Blazing a trail: We meet Iran’s first female triathlete
This morning it will be the crisp chill of the changing seasons that demands Shirin Gerami wraps a shawl around her head and shoulders. It wasn’t always thus.
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Gerami (pronounced with a hard G, although she happily softens it in western company), is the most enigmatic of interviewees, an effervescent smile and infectious giggles belying a stubborn interior. A determination to be a catalyst for change could be compromised by the humility of her responses – except actions speak far louder than words, especially when you have stood, arms aloft, national flag raised, as your country’s first-ever female triathlete.
Gentle ice-breakers are quickly brushed over. Born in Iran, Gerami’s been living in England for 11 years via a childhood split between the United States and Middle East, a secondary education in Lancing, near Brighton, and Durham for a degree in politics, philosophy and economics, before settling in London. Her father died of cancer when she was young, her brother is an entrepreneur trying to build an iced tea empire in the USA, but it’s that remarkable 2013 World Championships in London, and the one that mirrored it in Edmonton last autumn, that she really wants to discuss.
If she’s not one for dwelling on her background, however, Shirin does at least tell us about how she first got started in triathlon. “I remember my first 2km run at school,” she says. “I’d joined a friend thinking it would be nice and smooth, but it was just pain.”
With only vague memories of pre-school paddling with cousins in Tehran, trying out for the Lancing school swim squad at 15 proved equally challenging. “I told the coach I could barely swim and proved it by half-drowning,” she explains. “But I still wanted to join.”
First taste of tri
At Durham she stumbled across triathlon where a first club ride resulted in pushing a borrowed bike up every hill. But she stuck at it, and, to celebrate graduating, booked a spot at Ironman 70.3 UK at Wimbleball, one of the toughest half-iron distances on the circuit, with 5,600ft of ascent on the 56-mile bike course and a mean trail run to follow.
“I very nearly didn’t race, I was so scared,” Shirin explains, but the plan to quell nerves by booking into an Exmoor youth hostel and practising the bike course almost proved disastrous. “There’s a really sharp bend at the bottom of a descent, and I was telling myself: ‘You are going to go into the hedge.’ Of course, I went straight over the handlebars and hit my head on a post and lay there, sprawled on the floor. An old lady walking her dog took me to hospital. I was so annoyed with myself. The reason I came down was because I was so negative.”
There was no such drama come race day. “I did it much better than I’d ever dreamed,” she says. “That experience was invaluable for me to realise we underestimate ourselves so much, both mentally and physically. Before even trying the goal, it’s so likely we give up in fear of failure.”
Shirin’s humble recital suggests dicing dangerously with the cut-off times, but I later check the splits to find a more than commendable ninth in her age-group, in a shade over 6.5 hours.
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On moving to London to work in international relations, she joined triathlon clubs at Serpentine and then London Fields – where the possibility of representing Iran was first mooted.
Building on the success of the London Olympics, Hyde Park had been chosen by the International Triathlon Union to hold its World Series Grand Final, the climax to the season’s racing. As well as the elite, under-23, junior and paratriathlon races, the age-group world championships would also be staged and, with Britain renowned for sending a strong team, home soil meant the competition for places would be even fiercer.
“To take the edge off the Team GB competition, our club discussed other nations that members could potentially represent,” explains Shirin. “Someone turned to me and said: ‘Oh, Iranian woman, you can do it as well’.”
It’s worth reiterating that Shirin would be breaking new ground. No woman had ever competed in triathlon for Iran, which is governed by strict Islamic law, and prior to the Beijing Games of 2008 the Iranian Olympic Committee issued a memorandum stating its objective was “not just to win medals, but to promote Islamic culture”. Conservative views might forbid women from competing under a male coach, with a male judge or in a mixed-sex environment, but Shirin’s initial enquiry was rebuffed because of her attire.
“They didn’t think it’d be possible whilst adhering to the dress code,” she says. “My view was: if it’s only the clothes, surely there’s a solution?” A heartfelt letter stating her ambitions was followed by a five-month process of trying to find ways of competing whilst covered.
Shirin needed permission from both the triathlon federation, who judge on sporting merit, and the government sports ministry, for compliance with respecting extraneous rules or regulations. A flurry of emails and detailed descriptions of the proposed apparel led to amendments, but the green light was still not forthcoming.
The sensitivity was illustrated by the cautionary tale of Iranian long-distance swimmer, Elham Asghari, who swam 20 kilometres in the Caspian Sea in eight hours in June, but whose achievement was not recognised by the sports authorities because, despite designing a special swimsuit that added six kilos, her female features were deemed visible as she emerged from the water.
“You have beliefs, and rules and conditions,” Shirin explains. “Some women might not have a problem with skin-tight clothes, others might take issue with being active in a mixed environment. Beliefs are very individual, but I needed the approval of the deputy minister, so it was a bit tricky. Even if you wear a burkini, which is big and jellyfish-like, when you come out of the water, the weight means it clings to your body.”
Political paperwork
Perhaps the problem could be addressed from a different angle and, with the ITU’s support, a small tent was proposed by the swim exit so Shirin could change into dry clothes without being seen. The plan seemed to curry favour, yet a fortnight before the Hyde Park race and with the necessary ‘political paperwork’ still not forthcoming, Shirin flew to Tehran and met both the ministry and federation face-to-face to try to force a solution.
“My clothes needed changing. They were either too short or too tight and I had to go to workshops to make them from scratch,” she explains. The ITU had written supporting her case so, I suggested, was this stonewalling perhaps a deliberate deterrent? She will not be drawn.
“Beliefs are very individual,” she says. “I’m not in a position to say it was a barrier [to stop me racing]. They might have been genuine reasons, but I also knew that it was a few days before the race, I was still in Iran, I’d been told the clothes were fine but I needed to wait for political approval – and I still don’t know what this means.”
By Saturday, the day before the age-group event, a letter of nomination had still not materialised and Shirin was ready to quit. “Every shred of logic told me it will not happen,” she says. “I’d cancelled an interview with the BBC because I didn’t want to get involved anymore, but then I thought: ‘If I’m going to think positively, I’ve a race tomorrow, and it’s been so long since I did any training, it might be an idea to go for a run. I then realised I’d left my running shoes in Iran, so dug out a mouldy pair in the attic and went for a little jog around Hampstead Heath.”
Late that evening, sat with ITU delegates by the Serpentine lake café, she received a confirmation phone call from an unknown employee of the sports ministry and finally permission to race was emailed through. By then, it was 2am in Tehran.
The inclement weather on Sunday morning meant Shirin was one of the few competitors in the standard-distance wave grateful for the swim being halved. She would start at 7am, but first there was one further problem to overcome – the changing tent was a few metres from the water’s edge, so she would still be visible emerging from the swim.
“At 5am I was knocking on neighbours’ doors asking for a poncho,” she reveals. “I’d never been so exhausted in my life. My first thought was what a shame it would be if, after all this, I’d overslept. It was beautiful to be there, so many supporters and huge ‘Go Iran’ shouts all over the course. After that I celebrated by sleeping.”
