This post is somewhat personal - more than I would normally talk about publicly. But I don't have the energy to explain my situation to those who need, or want, to know. And it describes a new journey for me. A journey not planned. A journey not wanted. And this blog is about my journeys.
On my flight back from Japan, after Challenge Roth in Germany, I had difficulty breathing. Not so bad that I was struggling for breath, but enough to keep me from sleeping or even relaxing. It was a bit worrying at the time, but no sooner had I landed, the problem went away. There were no issues on the short domestic flight home, and I put it down to bad air in the plane, even if no one else seemed to be battling.
Only on reflection did I recall that after I "hit the wall" on the run at Roth, that I was having a slight breathing difficulty on the long walk in. But anything can, and usually does, happen in a full distance triathlon - so something like that was hardly worth writing home about. It was the same kind of feeling I later had on the plane.
In the following two weeks I was fine, and managed a couple of short swims and runs as I eased back into training. I felt fine. I had had a bad cold just prior to flying out, and was loaded with antibiotics in the week before race day. I had been in a slightly weakened state when I raced but definitely not sick anymore. I finished, although somewhat slower than I hoped, and appeared to recover at my usual pace.
Then two weeks after my return I ventured out on the bike for what I expected to be an easy 90 minute ride. As I was idling along the flats by the river, some 5 minutes from home, I realised I was breathing hard, a bit like I had been on the plane. I checked my pulse and it was pretty low, and there were no other signs of exertion. Somewhat mystified I continued my ride for a while, but then concerned that something more serious than simple fatigue was going on, I cut it short and headed for home. And since then, now about two weeks, I have continually had this same difficulty in breathing. It usually gets worse with any mild exertion or mild stress, even say dealing with traffic at a roundabout, and seems to improve when I rest.
It is hard to describe what happens. In some respects it's like when I am lying in bed my breathing is like I am walking briskly, and when I am walking it feels the same as when I am jogging. But that is not a completely accurate description. Normally exercise makes me breath harder, but then I do not have the sensation that I am not getting enough air - my breathing just increases naturally and I do get enough air. Now, it's like I keep finding myself out of breath and I have to work to gain the oxygen I need. The closest I can come to it is for those who have tried altitude simulation training, where you breath through a tube attached to air filters and scrubbers. You have to suck on the tube and work quite hard to get enough air at the simulated altitudes. What I have feels similar, although perhaps not quite as difficult as breathing a 10,000 feet simulation.
The upshot is that it leaves me a little tired, and quite worried. The fatigue, and the worry come and go, pretty much in line with the breathing.
So after a few days I booked an appointment for the following week with my GP. However when I awoke on the Saturday morning, I was not a happy camper, and was at this stage feeling somewhat afraid of my circumstances. Put simply my mortality was much more obvious than it usually is. So despite my disinclination to sit in the weekend queue with dozens of sick people I headed for the clinic.
Not wanting to announce my shortness of breath which I knew would push me to the front of the queue, I patiently (OK, bad pun, I know) waited an hour and a half to be seen. However when they did see me, they began to mobilise reasonably quickly - and this scared me even more. Before long they had taken blood and rushed it under urgency to the lab, done an ECG, listened, prodded and poked at various places around my body. I was then allowed home until the blood test results came back a few hours later. Fortunately it seemed, I was not exhibiting any signs of the normal dangerous things associated with shortness of breath, in particular a recent or pending heart attack, or pulmonary embolism (a blot clot in an artery near the lung). The latter can follow DVT (deep vein thrombosis), which as an aging endurance athlete who had just been on a long haul flight was an obvious concern. Because long distance athletes have lower pulse rates the blood tends to pool in the legs on long flights more easily, making them more vulnerable than average.
I was back at the doctors on the Monday, and again on Thursday. Another ECG, a chest X-ray and more listening, and prodding has revealed nothing. The problem however, has not abated. For sure, it improves or worsens over time, but it is with me all the time now. My GP's advice is to go home and report back if there are any changes, and I have a list of things that I have to particularly watch out for. He understands that I am pretty much in tune with my body and am well aware of changes in things like blood pressure, oxygen saturation, pulse rate, temperature and so on. These things I tend to monitor fairly regularly as it is.
So this leaves me with the possibility that I am under some sort of stress which is causing this. While I am very much open to this possibility I find it hard to understand. For starters I live a good and happy life. To be sure it is not stress free, but things pretty much work for me. I don't work too hard, and I spend a lot of time following, and fulfilling my dreams. And then, I have no other signs that this is a stress response; my heart rate throughout has been rock solid at its relatively slow resting pace in the fifties or low sixties, and my blood pressure is on the low side but within the normal range. There is no sweating, and no feeling of any kind of fear, apart from the fact that I am finding the whole thing somewhat disconcerting. And the first "attack" after the airplane episode was when I was idling my bike on the track alongside the river doing what I like doing best - definitely not seeming like a stress situation.
Small mental or physical stressors can set me off. But sometimes they do not. And on other occasions it seems to get worse without cause. We had a real downpour at midday yesterday and water was pouring into the house. OK, it was only a few litres, but that is quite a bit water getting splashed over your bed, carpets and more significantly into the structure of the house. Normally I would find this quite stressful given my distaste for wooden houses that can rot, but this event had no effect on my breathing at all. Then later in the day I had to go to the Postshop to exchange some left over Euros I had lying around. And this little non-event left me quite breathless. I know I find dealing with people hard - I am the consumate introvert, I don't do that people interaction thing much - but this was a ridiculous response.
So in short, I don't know what this is all about. I have a growing strategy in my head on how to approach this. I am a computer programmer. I can write code quickly and easily, but I spend most of my working life debugging situations: either programming code, or end user descriptions. Defining problems is what I do. Now I will just have to do it in a different situation. I have a lot of confidence in my GP, but his "go home" answer to me is inadequate, so I think he is going to get to know me rather better in the next few weeks.
My training, and racing is therefore on hold, perhaps indefinitely pending further developments or solutions to this problem. With a little luck this bogey will vanish as mysteriously as it arrived. So my shot at the World Triathlon Champs in Auckland in October is looking rather unlikely. Despite my big efforts to get there, I am not too concerned about that. More significant for me is my January date in Wanaka. It's the one race in the year I don't want to miss, for if I do, I will lose one of the memberships I am most proud of - belonging to the small club comprising the original survivors of Challenge Wanaka. And the fact that I am one of only two people to own the entire set of southern hemisphere Challenge Medals is a big incentive too. But that is still nearly six months away. I figure things will have changed substantially by then, one way or another.
However, if I have to quit racing now, I will be philosophical. I have had a great 25 years of racing, spread over more than 30 years, with 19 ironman distance finishes and a dozen other similarly long events under my belt. And I've raced on foreign shores in the black singlet at age group level. I did my first triathlon in 1982, and was doing other endurance events long before that. I've always known the time will come when I will stop, but I rather suspected it would be a decision based around simply having had enough. I've kind of dreamed of "downing tools" mid race and saying "That's it, I'm done now".
But as for the rest of my life, I have much living to do, and damn it, I need the air that I breathe!
Showing posts with label racing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label racing. Show all posts
Tuesday, August 14, 2012
Wednesday, July 11, 2012
Challenge Roth 2012 race report
Writing a race report is kind of therapeutic: you get to deal emotionally with the good and bad bits of the race. I actually write much of it in my head while on the bike. It helps me get through those long hours. Most, if not all of what I write in my head never finds it's way into written words, and sometimes a report never gets penned at all. And when it does, you will find I ramble on. But then this is for me, it's my record of the event. I'll let you read it if you like. So, here is my race report for Challenge Roth 2012, the biggest, and funnest full distance triathlon in the world. It's more than a race, it's a festival, a party even.
Build up
My build up to the race could hardly have been worse, although I don't want to tempt fate. Mostly, my training went reasonably well, for winter that is. I count my weeks backwards from race day, and only start thinking of real training for an event at about week 8 (i.e. 8 weeks out). Weeks 5 and 4 are the critical ones for me, and I didn't get much done at that time mainly due to really cold June weather. But the weeks before and after that were good. But then I did absolutely nothing for the last two weeks, firstly due to a surfing escapade which I enjoyed but was a bad idea. Hey, you only live once. More critically 10 days out I developed a bad cold, and started on antibiotics 8 days before my race. Yes, I know antibiotics don't fix a cold, but it's the secondary infection that actually lays me low, and what I needed to get on top of.
I knew I was taking a bit of risk flying in 4 days before the race, but I had a carefully planned flight schedule to minimise the jet lag. However when I booked my tickets I hadn't factored in that I might be sick. Because my eventual decision to race in Roth was a very late one, I had not booked any accommodation, so staying in Nurnberg was my only option. I was lead to believe the great German public transport system would work for me. It did not. I don't dispute that its a great public transport system - it's brilliant. But it didn't fit in around the race organisation schedule, particularly in light of the fact that the start and T1 (transition 1) are some 10km away from the finish, and that they choose to hold the race briefing at 6pm the night before the race - a very unsatisfactory time given my location and reliance on public transport.
The upshot of this was that on the afternoon before the race I had to ride my bike 15km, walk 4km, and hitchhike the rest. I arrived back at my accommodation some 6 hours after I left, at 8pm, exhausted and hungry. Now my normal pre race schedule involves lying down from about noon the day before the race. Add to this the fact that I was still jet lagged and getting over a cold. My legs ached when I climbed stairs - my key indicator that I needed rest. A full distance triathlon the next day was definitely not my preferred list of things to do.
And on race day I had to wake up at 4.30am, more than 3 hours before my start. In Wanaka and Taupo I normally only wake up 90 minutes before my start, and I get to bed a lot earlier. Again this was due to the logistics around my accommodation and transport options.
Race morning started with a taxi ride, and a traffic jam. However the traffic was moving and I got to the start without too much stress. It was only when I arrived at the start and saw nearly 4000 bikes racked in the paddock, and the associated hustle and bustle did I begin to feel more comfortable. This is what I had come to do, not hassle with trains, taxis, baggage, foreign languages, antibiotics and so on.
Fortunately Syko Simpson was there, his bike racked near mine, and chatting to him during the two hour wait calmed the nerves. Roth starts in "waves" of about 300 athletes every 5 minutes. I was in the second to last wave 70 minutes after the professionals had set off.
The swim
But before I knew it I was in the water. And I experienced what I call "The Swim Start Effect". What this means, is that once you are in the water nothing else matters. It doesn't matter how good or bad your build up has been, that is all history, you are now racing. "Living in the now" is a concept oft spoken about these days. Well, you don't get more living in the now, than during a triathlon swim. Everything else melts away. It's just you, in the water, in a race, and those pesky goggles that fog up.
I really just cruised the swim. I couldn't see where I was going, so followed whatever feet where in front of me. I used to use $12 goggles and buy a new pair every year or so. This plan worked brilliantly and they never leaked and I could always see where I was going. Then I couldn't source that brand any more, and I switched to expensive $40 goggles, and still buy a new pair every year. Now I can never see out of them when I need to (yes, I do spit in them, but it makes little difference). Go figure. I couldn't read my watch either so had no idea of how far I was through the race. It felt like one of those days where they say you got out of bed on the wrong side. However towards the end of the swim I very grugdingly had to admit to myself I was enjoying swimming in this murky canal on the other side of the world.
The bike
I eventually exited the water some 7 minutes slower than my best time. Now while I had been swimming better than ever in training, I was still pleased with this time, given my circumstances. I nip through transtions pretty quickly these days and was soon on my bike, only to discover that there was rather a fresh breeze blowing. Later I reclassified it from a breeze to a strong wind. And it was doing the old switcheroo. It's a two lap course, and what was headwind on the first lap was tailwind on the second, and vice versa. And while this is one of the fastest courses in the world, the cycle is anything but flat, and it is also quite technical, especially when doing it for the first time. There are some tricky descents. I came across men with red flags. And then hay bales packed around the corners. So I knew I should slow down at these places. Brainy huh? I was doing more braking than I normally like to do on a triathlon course.
The support on the ride was sensational. The first food and drink station was run by the German army. It's hard to describe. It was about 500 m long (probably precisely 500m long). And the boys (and some girls) were resplendent in their uniforms. You were welcomed to the station with soldiers on either side of the road saluting as you rode up. I couldn't help myself I saluted back. Then the attendants were all in a perfect row, about 1.748m apart, right arms held out with Wasser, Iso, Cola (water, isotonic drink and coke), and various items of food.
Many of the intersections were managed by the Polizei, and a superb job they did to, not only managing traffic but directing cyclists as well. It was great to see the race backed by the authorities.
And the fans - well they certainly know how to do it. Some stand by the road. Boring! Others bring their benches, and tables, and they make beer gardens alongside the road, and they sit there in the sun drinking radlers while you sweat your way past. The famous Bier Mile in Eckersmullen is wonderful to see. I wanted to stop and partake, but sadly I was a tad busy.
I've grown up following the Tour de France on TV. Large crowds and cries of Allez Allez Allez are fixed in my head. In this race I got the large crowds but the chant was Hopp Hopp Hopp (Go Go Go). PA systems all along the route kept the music and the chanting coming. I rode up more than one hill to "Moves like Jagger", one of my favorite Ceroc dance songs.
And then there was Solarerberg. Words fail to properly describe what it is like. This is why I came here. A guy like me was never, ever going to ride in a race like the Tour de France. No matter now, I've ridden Solarerberg, and no one can take that away from me. They pressed in 3-4 deep and screamed all the way till I rode over the top. It was amazing, and it will live with me forever.
I got a special surprise just after the start of the second lap. There was a crowd at a certain point on a small hill, and as they do the cyclists tend to bunch up slightly on the hills. As I approached the group, I noticed one of the watching men start running and jockeying for position on the road. Clearly he had singled out a cyclist and wanted to run with him for a while. And then I realised it was me he was aiming to run with. I got an even bigger surprise when I realised who it was. There is a thing called the Challenge Family League. You get points for finishing a Challenge race. There are over 40 thousand people listed in the the league table. I'm quite pleased to be in the top 100 right now. But the fellow who was running with me, and yelling encouragement at the top of his voice is the one who sits at number 1 in the league, Luke Dragstra. I had run a bit with him in Wanaka one year after he injured his ankle and was reduced to a walk, one lap ahead of me. Triathlon is one sport where this happens. The professionals have every respect for age groupers. They know what it takes to get around a course like this, and they know that we are often out there a lot longer they are, that we have much less natural talent, and we get around sometimes on sheer guts and stupidity.
For many years, the 140km point on the bike course has been my nemesis. This is usually the point where I realise that "I can't anymore" (sorry, old army joke). It's not a good place to be, because you still have 40km to ride, the saddle has pushed up to your belly button, and your legs don't want to work those pedals no more. Now, while I hadn't gone passed 90km on the bike since January, I felt as strong over the last 40km as I had any other time of the race. I was about 8 minutes slower than my bike PB, again, not a bad result. But I feel as I now have the bike working for me. My set up is good, especially the wheels, tyres and my position on the bike.
The run
Finally I got to the end of the bike. I was tired and behind overall PB time by about 15 minutes, and my running training hadn't gone superbly well but I had had 4 decent runs between 8 and 12 km, and I wasn't injured. So I was going to give it a go. I ran the first 13k in an hour and a half, and this was well on schedule for a best time. But I know very well it doesn't work like that. Somewhere between 13 and 14km I ran in the proverbial wall, and at 14km I felt very much like a beaten man. Quit I would not, and so I settled in for a long painful 28km walk. I realised I was dehydrated, despite having drank more than I usually do, by at least half. I had only had sports drink, with a small amoint of coke, so I was sure this had given me enough salt.
But once you are dehydrated you can't really reverse that situation if you keep running. So over then next couple of hours I kept walking and had plenty of coke, water and chicken soup (thank you organisers, this was a great decision - our long distance tri coures generallydo not have enough salty foods available). I had thought I could easily walk in under the cut off of 15 hours. The cut off is not strongly enforced - its difficult with the wave starts to do so, but I didn't want to finish outside of it. However I was reduced to a less than 5km per hour walk at one stage and at that rate I wasn't going to make it. At his point I crossed Syko going the other way. He did not look too flash, and pulled out soon after.
My rehydration programme eventually worked, and by 30km I was back running and walking, and from 35km I was able to run the rest of the way. Before that however, I witnessed once of the worst things I have seen in triathlon. An attractive young lass had passed me a bit earlier, and I had remembered her cute pigtail plaits bobbing along as gracefully as she was. Sadly though the next time I saw her she was vomiting up an awful bloody mess. It did not look at all good. Luckily, the marshal patrol boat in the canal alongside the running track had noticed her, and was moving in for a closer look. I waved them in, trying to say, that she needed help quite urgently. One of the other runners was already holding her up. A minute later the ambulance was on its way, and I left the scene somewhat shaken.
The crowds were in behind me by now. They loved my pink set up. At first they where calling out "pink pink", but evntually they went with "super super". And some of them just burst out laughing when they saw me. But I made more than one young lass squeal with delight.
The finish
And so I finally made into the town of Roth. By now it was dark, and there a few magical sections along the cobblestones down classic narrow European alleys. And then on into the finish line area with 10,000 screaming fans. And into the arms of the delightful Kathrin, princess royale of triathlon in Europe. And then prince Felix got down on his knees to welcome me home. Alice gave me a hug too, sweaty as I was. I love these people dearly. They deserve so much respect, mainly because they know how to show it. Long live Roth.
Race photos below
Build up
My build up to the race could hardly have been worse, although I don't want to tempt fate. Mostly, my training went reasonably well, for winter that is. I count my weeks backwards from race day, and only start thinking of real training for an event at about week 8 (i.e. 8 weeks out). Weeks 5 and 4 are the critical ones for me, and I didn't get much done at that time mainly due to really cold June weather. But the weeks before and after that were good. But then I did absolutely nothing for the last two weeks, firstly due to a surfing escapade which I enjoyed but was a bad idea. Hey, you only live once. More critically 10 days out I developed a bad cold, and started on antibiotics 8 days before my race. Yes, I know antibiotics don't fix a cold, but it's the secondary infection that actually lays me low, and what I needed to get on top of.
I knew I was taking a bit of risk flying in 4 days before the race, but I had a carefully planned flight schedule to minimise the jet lag. However when I booked my tickets I hadn't factored in that I might be sick. Because my eventual decision to race in Roth was a very late one, I had not booked any accommodation, so staying in Nurnberg was my only option. I was lead to believe the great German public transport system would work for me. It did not. I don't dispute that its a great public transport system - it's brilliant. But it didn't fit in around the race organisation schedule, particularly in light of the fact that the start and T1 (transition 1) are some 10km away from the finish, and that they choose to hold the race briefing at 6pm the night before the race - a very unsatisfactory time given my location and reliance on public transport.
The upshot of this was that on the afternoon before the race I had to ride my bike 15km, walk 4km, and hitchhike the rest. I arrived back at my accommodation some 6 hours after I left, at 8pm, exhausted and hungry. Now my normal pre race schedule involves lying down from about noon the day before the race. Add to this the fact that I was still jet lagged and getting over a cold. My legs ached when I climbed stairs - my key indicator that I needed rest. A full distance triathlon the next day was definitely not my preferred list of things to do.
And on race day I had to wake up at 4.30am, more than 3 hours before my start. In Wanaka and Taupo I normally only wake up 90 minutes before my start, and I get to bed a lot earlier. Again this was due to the logistics around my accommodation and transport options.
Race morning started with a taxi ride, and a traffic jam. However the traffic was moving and I got to the start without too much stress. It was only when I arrived at the start and saw nearly 4000 bikes racked in the paddock, and the associated hustle and bustle did I begin to feel more comfortable. This is what I had come to do, not hassle with trains, taxis, baggage, foreign languages, antibiotics and so on.
Fortunately Syko Simpson was there, his bike racked near mine, and chatting to him during the two hour wait calmed the nerves. Roth starts in "waves" of about 300 athletes every 5 minutes. I was in the second to last wave 70 minutes after the professionals had set off.
The swim
But before I knew it I was in the water. And I experienced what I call "The Swim Start Effect". What this means, is that once you are in the water nothing else matters. It doesn't matter how good or bad your build up has been, that is all history, you are now racing. "Living in the now" is a concept oft spoken about these days. Well, you don't get more living in the now, than during a triathlon swim. Everything else melts away. It's just you, in the water, in a race, and those pesky goggles that fog up.
I really just cruised the swim. I couldn't see where I was going, so followed whatever feet where in front of me. I used to use $12 goggles and buy a new pair every year or so. This plan worked brilliantly and they never leaked and I could always see where I was going. Then I couldn't source that brand any more, and I switched to expensive $40 goggles, and still buy a new pair every year. Now I can never see out of them when I need to (yes, I do spit in them, but it makes little difference). Go figure. I couldn't read my watch either so had no idea of how far I was through the race. It felt like one of those days where they say you got out of bed on the wrong side. However towards the end of the swim I very grugdingly had to admit to myself I was enjoying swimming in this murky canal on the other side of the world.
The bike
I eventually exited the water some 7 minutes slower than my best time. Now while I had been swimming better than ever in training, I was still pleased with this time, given my circumstances. I nip through transtions pretty quickly these days and was soon on my bike, only to discover that there was rather a fresh breeze blowing. Later I reclassified it from a breeze to a strong wind. And it was doing the old switcheroo. It's a two lap course, and what was headwind on the first lap was tailwind on the second, and vice versa. And while this is one of the fastest courses in the world, the cycle is anything but flat, and it is also quite technical, especially when doing it for the first time. There are some tricky descents. I came across men with red flags. And then hay bales packed around the corners. So I knew I should slow down at these places. Brainy huh? I was doing more braking than I normally like to do on a triathlon course.
The support on the ride was sensational. The first food and drink station was run by the German army. It's hard to describe. It was about 500 m long (probably precisely 500m long). And the boys (and some girls) were resplendent in their uniforms. You were welcomed to the station with soldiers on either side of the road saluting as you rode up. I couldn't help myself I saluted back. Then the attendants were all in a perfect row, about 1.748m apart, right arms held out with Wasser, Iso, Cola (water, isotonic drink and coke), and various items of food.
Many of the intersections were managed by the Polizei, and a superb job they did to, not only managing traffic but directing cyclists as well. It was great to see the race backed by the authorities.
And the fans - well they certainly know how to do it. Some stand by the road. Boring! Others bring their benches, and tables, and they make beer gardens alongside the road, and they sit there in the sun drinking radlers while you sweat your way past. The famous Bier Mile in Eckersmullen is wonderful to see. I wanted to stop and partake, but sadly I was a tad busy.
I've grown up following the Tour de France on TV. Large crowds and cries of Allez Allez Allez are fixed in my head. In this race I got the large crowds but the chant was Hopp Hopp Hopp (Go Go Go). PA systems all along the route kept the music and the chanting coming. I rode up more than one hill to "Moves like Jagger", one of my favorite Ceroc dance songs.
And then there was Solarerberg. Words fail to properly describe what it is like. This is why I came here. A guy like me was never, ever going to ride in a race like the Tour de France. No matter now, I've ridden Solarerberg, and no one can take that away from me. They pressed in 3-4 deep and screamed all the way till I rode over the top. It was amazing, and it will live with me forever.
I got a special surprise just after the start of the second lap. There was a crowd at a certain point on a small hill, and as they do the cyclists tend to bunch up slightly on the hills. As I approached the group, I noticed one of the watching men start running and jockeying for position on the road. Clearly he had singled out a cyclist and wanted to run with him for a while. And then I realised it was me he was aiming to run with. I got an even bigger surprise when I realised who it was. There is a thing called the Challenge Family League. You get points for finishing a Challenge race. There are over 40 thousand people listed in the the league table. I'm quite pleased to be in the top 100 right now. But the fellow who was running with me, and yelling encouragement at the top of his voice is the one who sits at number 1 in the league, Luke Dragstra. I had run a bit with him in Wanaka one year after he injured his ankle and was reduced to a walk, one lap ahead of me. Triathlon is one sport where this happens. The professionals have every respect for age groupers. They know what it takes to get around a course like this, and they know that we are often out there a lot longer they are, that we have much less natural talent, and we get around sometimes on sheer guts and stupidity.
For many years, the 140km point on the bike course has been my nemesis. This is usually the point where I realise that "I can't anymore" (sorry, old army joke). It's not a good place to be, because you still have 40km to ride, the saddle has pushed up to your belly button, and your legs don't want to work those pedals no more. Now, while I hadn't gone passed 90km on the bike since January, I felt as strong over the last 40km as I had any other time of the race. I was about 8 minutes slower than my bike PB, again, not a bad result. But I feel as I now have the bike working for me. My set up is good, especially the wheels, tyres and my position on the bike.
The run
Finally I got to the end of the bike. I was tired and behind overall PB time by about 15 minutes, and my running training hadn't gone superbly well but I had had 4 decent runs between 8 and 12 km, and I wasn't injured. So I was going to give it a go. I ran the first 13k in an hour and a half, and this was well on schedule for a best time. But I know very well it doesn't work like that. Somewhere between 13 and 14km I ran in the proverbial wall, and at 14km I felt very much like a beaten man. Quit I would not, and so I settled in for a long painful 28km walk. I realised I was dehydrated, despite having drank more than I usually do, by at least half. I had only had sports drink, with a small amoint of coke, so I was sure this had given me enough salt.
But once you are dehydrated you can't really reverse that situation if you keep running. So over then next couple of hours I kept walking and had plenty of coke, water and chicken soup (thank you organisers, this was a great decision - our long distance tri coures generallydo not have enough salty foods available). I had thought I could easily walk in under the cut off of 15 hours. The cut off is not strongly enforced - its difficult with the wave starts to do so, but I didn't want to finish outside of it. However I was reduced to a less than 5km per hour walk at one stage and at that rate I wasn't going to make it. At his point I crossed Syko going the other way. He did not look too flash, and pulled out soon after.
My rehydration programme eventually worked, and by 30km I was back running and walking, and from 35km I was able to run the rest of the way. Before that however, I witnessed once of the worst things I have seen in triathlon. An attractive young lass had passed me a bit earlier, and I had remembered her cute pigtail plaits bobbing along as gracefully as she was. Sadly though the next time I saw her she was vomiting up an awful bloody mess. It did not look at all good. Luckily, the marshal patrol boat in the canal alongside the running track had noticed her, and was moving in for a closer look. I waved them in, trying to say, that she needed help quite urgently. One of the other runners was already holding her up. A minute later the ambulance was on its way, and I left the scene somewhat shaken.
The crowds were in behind me by now. They loved my pink set up. At first they where calling out "pink pink", but evntually they went with "super super". And some of them just burst out laughing when they saw me. But I made more than one young lass squeal with delight.
The finish
And so I finally made into the town of Roth. By now it was dark, and there a few magical sections along the cobblestones down classic narrow European alleys. And then on into the finish line area with 10,000 screaming fans. And into the arms of the delightful Kathrin, princess royale of triathlon in Europe. And then prince Felix got down on his knees to welcome me home. Alice gave me a hug too, sweaty as I was. I love these people dearly. They deserve so much respect, mainly because they know how to show it. Long live Roth.
Race photos below
Saturday, July 7, 2012
Tomorrow is the big day
I am nearly set for the big race tomorrow, almost, just about, pretty much. There are a few things to sort out.
My cold started to clear midweek, and I am feeling pretty good right now, having spent most of the last few days resting up. The first time at an event in a foreign language country can be a bit daunting. Added to the complications are that the race start and T1 (transition 1) are some 10km or so from T2, the finish, and race HQ. And this itself is 15min walk from the Roth station, which is a 20 minute train ride from Nuremberg. The main issue is race morning - the organisers have put on buses but the last bus from Roth is at 5.40am, fully 2 hours before my start. I would have to get up at about 4am to get that bus only to wait nearly two hours at the start. This is not a good thing, and a bit of a blight on my otherwise good experience so far.
So I have sought alternative plans - and basically a very expensive taxi ride seems to be the best option. The unknown really will be the size of the traffic jam, and this could jeopardise me getting to the start on time. But I'm going to leave about 2 hours before my start, and hope it is enough. This way I can get up at about 5am instead of 4am. And that is a big deal when you are still slightly jetlagged and have a 15 hour 8000 calorie event to face up to. And I don't want to be sitting around at the start for two hours.
The weather forecast looks reasonable. There may be a few rain storms, but it should be warm and not too windy.
My cold started to clear midweek, and I am feeling pretty good right now, having spent most of the last few days resting up. The first time at an event in a foreign language country can be a bit daunting. Added to the complications are that the race start and T1 (transition 1) are some 10km or so from T2, the finish, and race HQ. And this itself is 15min walk from the Roth station, which is a 20 minute train ride from Nuremberg. The main issue is race morning - the organisers have put on buses but the last bus from Roth is at 5.40am, fully 2 hours before my start. I would have to get up at about 4am to get that bus only to wait nearly two hours at the start. This is not a good thing, and a bit of a blight on my otherwise good experience so far.
So I have sought alternative plans - and basically a very expensive taxi ride seems to be the best option. The unknown really will be the size of the traffic jam, and this could jeopardise me getting to the start on time. But I'm going to leave about 2 hours before my start, and hope it is enough. This way I can get up at about 5am instead of 4am. And that is a big deal when you are still slightly jetlagged and have a 15 hour 8000 calorie event to face up to. And I don't want to be sitting around at the start for two hours.
The weather forecast looks reasonable. There may be a few rain storms, but it should be warm and not too windy.
Tuesday, July 3, 2012
Challenge Roth: the journey begins somewhat shakily
In the course of my life I've lined up for more than 30 endurance races that are of ironman-distance magnitude, but not necessarily swim-bike-run triathlons. These races take up my focus for much of each year. They are my "big thing", and over the years I have invested thousands of hours and dollars, and given up a lot to feed my magnificent obsession. And since I was a kid I've always been prone to being sick, specifically to the common cold. Typically I get 3-4 colds a year and they last around 3 weeks. It's not the virus part of a cold that hammers me - I usually seem to deal with that in a few days - but the secondary bacterial infection sets in, and takes forever to clear. So I've always wondered how I never got sick immediately before a big race, it just seemed that it had to happen at some stage. Because getting sick at the wrong time could result in a rather big loss of all the cost and hard work that has gone into the preparing for the event. Last year before I lined up for Challenge Cairns I was sick for 3 weeks but I shook it with a week to go, so I didn't count that.
But I wonder no more. On Friday, 9 days before Challenge Roth, with the trip still to negotiate I was struck down with a rather bad cold. To be fair both Cairns and Roth are the only times I've trained for an ironman-distance race through winter. But I still think I picked up this bug at dance class on Thursday night. Perhaps I shouldn't have gone. But I wanted to - being away means missing class for 3 weeks, and I didn't want to make it 4 weeks. At class there is a lot of "hand changing" with a lot of people, and hands are a great way to transmit colds. I do my best not to touch my face (but it feels so good, or something). And in case anyone hadn't noticed I'm kinda hooked-on-Ceroc right now.
On Sunday before my flight feeling very sorry for myself, I presented at the local weekend clinic at the doctors. Fortunately I got someone who understood my situation. He said I should have presented sooner, but I am so used to the "take something to ease the symptoms until they go away" and I hate having to face all those sick people in the waiting room. The good doctor decided not to take any chances and loaded me up with my favorite antibiotic and a pile of anti-inflammatories.
So after a few restless nights I boarded the first main leg of my journey from Auckland to Narita on Monday morning. We were delayed an hour while they searched the terminal for a passenger's drugs, medical I presume, and then because they didn't find them, they had to find the respective luggage and remove it from the hold. But it wasn't me, I kept my drugs next to my passport.
I don't yet know if I am going to race, but I'll spend most of the next 24 hours in my hotel room in Narita, before heading for Frankfurt, and hope that by then the antibiotics have kicked in. At least I feel that if I can shake the virus, I wont have to deal with any bacterial infection. I'm feeling much better this morning that I did last night. Ibuprofen seems to be a better decongestant than those you can buy these days - most have been removed from OTC sale because of mis-use in making illegal drugs.
Whether I race or not, this is disappointing. While I am definitely not in the form of my life, my training has gone reasonably well, I'm racing on the fastest course in the world, and for the first time in 3 years I'm not carrying an injury. It would have been a good time to get a personal best, and hopefully something that doesn't start with 13. Nevertheless, whatever happens it's been a very big week - with more than just the thought of the race on my mind.
But I wonder no more. On Friday, 9 days before Challenge Roth, with the trip still to negotiate I was struck down with a rather bad cold. To be fair both Cairns and Roth are the only times I've trained for an ironman-distance race through winter. But I still think I picked up this bug at dance class on Thursday night. Perhaps I shouldn't have gone. But I wanted to - being away means missing class for 3 weeks, and I didn't want to make it 4 weeks. At class there is a lot of "hand changing" with a lot of people, and hands are a great way to transmit colds. I do my best not to touch my face (but it feels so good, or something). And in case anyone hadn't noticed I'm kinda hooked-on-Ceroc right now.
On Sunday before my flight feeling very sorry for myself, I presented at the local weekend clinic at the doctors. Fortunately I got someone who understood my situation. He said I should have presented sooner, but I am so used to the "take something to ease the symptoms until they go away" and I hate having to face all those sick people in the waiting room. The good doctor decided not to take any chances and loaded me up with my favorite antibiotic and a pile of anti-inflammatories.
So after a few restless nights I boarded the first main leg of my journey from Auckland to Narita on Monday morning. We were delayed an hour while they searched the terminal for a passenger's drugs, medical I presume, and then because they didn't find them, they had to find the respective luggage and remove it from the hold. But it wasn't me, I kept my drugs next to my passport.
I don't yet know if I am going to race, but I'll spend most of the next 24 hours in my hotel room in Narita, before heading for Frankfurt, and hope that by then the antibiotics have kicked in. At least I feel that if I can shake the virus, I wont have to deal with any bacterial infection. I'm feeling much better this morning that I did last night. Ibuprofen seems to be a better decongestant than those you can buy these days - most have been removed from OTC sale because of mis-use in making illegal drugs.
Whether I race or not, this is disappointing. While I am definitely not in the form of my life, my training has gone reasonably well, I'm racing on the fastest course in the world, and for the first time in 3 years I'm not carrying an injury. It would have been a good time to get a personal best, and hopefully something that doesn't start with 13. Nevertheless, whatever happens it's been a very big week - with more than just the thought of the race on my mind.
Friday, June 10, 2011
Cairns footnote
My most devoted fan
Just after I entered the departure lounge in Cairns a four year old boy ran up to me with a huge smile and threw his arms around my leg and wouldn't let go. Somewhat taken aback I tried to shake myself free, at first thinking he had mistaken me for his dad. It's happened before - kids that high have trouble looking up. But then I realised who he was.
During the race he had wandered out onto the run course, and seemed to have an obvious interest in me. I stopped, bent over and had a little chat to him. "Your funny" he said. I immediately decided this wasn't the time and place for the apostrophe conversation (don't worry if you live in New Zealand and don't understand that).
He also wanted to know what I was doing. I tried to explain about the race, but he knew all that. He really wanted to know what was up with my hair. But I couldn't linger too long. We had both enjoyed the conversation.
It turns out anyway, that this was a Kiwi kid from Auckland and his dad was in the race, and had also been at Wanaka. He had seen me race before, and I was now one of his best friends.
I stand in awe.
Overnight fun
The day after I booked my overnight accommodation at an airport motel in Auckland I saw it featured in the paper because it was so dirty, and the service was so bad. What to do, as I had already paid for it?
I decided to risk it, and after a phone call to the motel to ask where my promised shuttle was they eventually arrived. I could see what issues were. I had dinner there as there was no where else to go, but stayed away from the chicken and the stews, hoping that fried fish might be better. I also had trouble believing I was in New Zealand, so may Paul Henry never go there.
Then just as I was dozing off for the night, the fire alarm went off. At first I thought it was a car alarm outside my window, so I rolled over and pulled my pillow over my head. Then came the knock on the doors down the passage, and soon we were all out in the 13 degree night while the fire service investigated. I'm not sure what the problem was but it seemed there was no fire, and we were soon back in our beds. Too soon though it was 5.30am and I was off to the airport. Only to wait, and wait, as the small planes were not leaving the airport in a hurry due to the fog.
Recovery
Once home I thought I would try and catch up on some work, but I could feel a small nap coming on. I slept until lunch, then slept all afternoon, and slept all night too. I may not be done yet either.
My legs were hurting in the night in a way that they haven't hurt before. At least the blisters seem to be settling down.
Another point of concern is my left knee. After Challenge Wanaka 2009 where I ran my (still) best ironman-distance marathon my knee started to hurt after the race and became quite puffy. It was fine before and during that race, and this was my most debilitating injury ever. I could hardly run for eight months, and I thought my career was over. Then suddenly it disappeared. Well after Cairns where I completed my slowest marathon ever, I felt the same pain and the same sort of swelling, although to a much lesser degree. Thankfully though it seems to be settling down.
My ankle seems good, so even though my decision to use my training shoes with inserts was a painful one, it had the desired effect.
I'm not in a hurry to get out and train again. I have three months to Beijing, and my base fitness seems OK. So I will wait a couple of weeks and then ease into my swimming and cycling. I'll be able to use an intensive approach over the last six weeks to get me into good shape, and I will leave most of my running until then. I have to try and peak for Beijing, and then again two and a half months later for the selection qualification races in Auckland in November. These are for the age group champs the following November in Auckland. The competition will be fierce.
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
Farewell Cairns, hello life
All too soon my time in Cairns has come to an end. It has been a fantastic trip. I am sitting by the pool at the motel on one of those pool chairs (there is no martini though) waiting for my airport shuttle.
The race was really good, but very hard. My feet are still sore from the blisters. I have never had them so bad during the race, nor have they troubled me so much afterwards. Apart from that I feel I have recovered well, although I do know that the post ironman-distance steamroller can pay a visit anytime after the race. It usually visits on day three and today is day three. I have my flight to deal with still, but so far so good. It is perhaps an adrenaline thing, and so I could be fine until I get home tomorrow and start to relax.
What did I learn? I feel that I am getting my swim and bike times to something more respectable, and I now expect to go close to 6 hours in future bike legs, provided I can do the training. I need to do this without trashing myself though, so I can set myself up for that all elusive sub-12 hour time. I'm still 90 minutes away, which sounds a lot, and it is, but then I have come more than three hours in 12 years, and I still feel I have yet to put things together in an ironman-distance race like I can do in the shorter distances.
Will I come back? Yes to Cairns and yes to the race. But perhaps not next year. Entries open next week and I am not ready to make that decision. I don't want to fall into the "survivor" trap here as well. I am already under that spell with Challenge Wanaka, and my investment in Ironman New Zealand is too big just to throw away. So that is two races I am more or less committed to doing every year, especially Wanaka. And I don't want to add Cairns to that list, so if I miss next year I am out of the survivor's club. Besides there are many more Challenge family races I want to experience.
I would also like to come back to Cairns for a holiday, and that could be after the race one year. There is a lot to do here, and another trip to the reef is a must. With the direct flight from Auckland, and some pretty good special prices at certain times, it isn't a bad option for a holiday. Or it could be combined with a visit to the Gold and Sunshine coasts.
I'm looking forward to going home and getting back into the swing of every day life again for a little while. This will probably be my last blog posting till I head for Tokyo and Beijing in September. I am excited about that, but I need to settle down into a routine of work and training between now and then. I have a new lease of life on my work at moment after going through a dull patch for the last while. the new web technologies that are emerging are really exciting for me, and there is so much I want to do with them. Watch this space (or rather the one just around the corner).
Monday, June 6, 2011
Challenge Cairns race report
The day dawned as expected. But long before it did I was up getting ready for the start. After the bus ride out there, I had to load my bike, pump my tires and hand in my special needs bag, before changing to wetsuit and handing the swim/gear bag which is what you get back when you finish. It doesn't sound like a lot, but it always takes a while.
Then onto the beach to watch the pro's start. A ten minute gap meant a quick loosen up in the water and a goggle check (not the same as a google check, but just as enlightening). And then we were off. I self-seeded well, held my line through the 'washing-machine' and quickly settled into a rhythm. With no pretensions of a fast time, I really just took it easy, flopping about in the water, and looking for some good legs to draft off. This was a two lap course into the marina, out up the boat ramp, back down the beach and into the water. I went through in about 37 minutes, which surprised me, but I supposed when you add a wetsuit to sea water you get a lot of buoyancy and for a leg-dragger like me, that can only be good.
I was just into the second lap when the half-distance competitors started. They were soon all over me. Ironman-distance athletes are generally laid back, considerate, and respectful, and this shows in the mess of a swim start. In the shorter distances you find a higher proportion of aggressive types. I was whacked from side to side and twice had my goggles kicked from my face. Luckily I wasn't hurt, and in fact it was a good thing as it cleared the fog even if I did get stinging eyes from the salt.
I exited the swim in around 1:15, and stood for a while under the showers on the ramp - most people just ran through. I made a man-to-man joke to the dude sharing the same water stream as me. He gave a weak grin in reply. Then I remembered my hair.
Transition went very smoothly - it usually does for me when its a hot weather one. Once out on the bike I forgot my promise to take my time. Most of the course is hot mix. This is a term I learnt in New Zealand, and I discovered the Aussies don't use it either. I suppose because it is not a novelty in New Zealand and when you find a stretch of road with hot mix you think "wow, isn't that cool". For the uninitiated, hot mix is a normal tar road. In New Zealand they use a very course volcanic or gravel chip, and skimp on the tar which makes for a sealed surface but nothing you would call smooth. The difference to a cyclist is about 3km per hour, not to mention a whole lot of comfort. I use the mis-named "open tubulars". They are not tubulars at all, but clinchers made with tubular materials. They have a lower rolling resistance than any other type of tyre, although you can only really notice it on super smooth roads. The upshot was that I was having a great time at getting the roll on at around 37kph thanks to a waft of a breeze behind me. I kept trying to tell myself to slow down, but was just having too much fun.
Despite my good speed I tried not to get "half-lapped" by big Macca. My target then, was to get to the 93k mark before he got to 153km (with this 10 minute start). At 92km he came past, with two guys in tow. It was a sight to behold. He was rock steady on his bike, his legs working like pistons. The two fellas behind, in comparison were "riding". Their bikes were rocking, their cadence and spinning uneven. Macca is a true champion. It's not often you have a current world champion right there a couple of metres from you in the same race. It's only happened to me twice this year.
It was hot out there. I don't know what the road temperatures were. The forecast was for 27 degrees, but at 2pm it would have been a lot hotter out on the road. At each aid station I poured a bottle of water over me, and added two fresh ones for my bike to repeat every 10 minutes. I stuck the electrolyte bottle in my jersey. I'm used to racing with only one bottle, but I learned from Challenge Wanaka in 2008 how crucial it is to use water to keep cool on the bike when the temperatures soar like that. I must get a set of 'arm coolers'. These are white mesh sleeves, just like arm warmers but you use them to keep the sun off and retain water. It seems that water on the arms and head are the two places where cooling has the greatest effect. I say seems, I have seen no research for arms, but it feels very effective. There isn't much you can do about the head with an aero helmet on.
The bike continued to go well, and I got the heavy disc though the 10km hilly section four times without much worry. A good decision I thought. At 160km I decided to push for a bike PB. My big mistake of the day. At 170km I had a bit of meltdown. I usually like to say the wheels fell off, but every time I do that I get emails asking if I got hurt. I hung in there to the finish but was in for another nasty little shock. My speedo hit 180km and I was still 3 or 4km out from transition. Yes, the bike course was long. I think I took nine or ten minutes to do those last few clicks, even though they were flat, such was my exhaustion. Were it not for the longer course, I would have claimed a PB on the bike. Not bad since my last ride was on 9th of May, and I missed most of the two weeks before that as well.
When I reached transition I was so emotionally and mentally fatigued that I had no way of assessing my physical state. Luckily by now T2 is very routine for me. I always find it easier than T1, especially on a warm dry day. So I did what I had to do on auto-pilot, but I did sit there for a while longer.
Out on to the run. The first bit through Yorkeys Knob village and along the beach was pleasant. But then we hit the 12km pull along the main roads though the sugar cane into Cairns. The cane grows huge here - I have never seen it so big. And with it on either side of the road, there was almost no wind, and so we baked in the hot sun. I ran most of the first 10km, but after that I started to walk. Usually in that state I run or walk about 50% of the time changing every 200m or so. But yesterday I was walking for several kilometres at a time. To prevent a recurrence of my ankle injury I decided to race in my training shoes along with highly customised orthotic inserts. They are different for each foot, such as my deformities are, and what they do is force my foot into a more normalised action, thereby reducing the stress caused by the collapse of my ankles on landing. This comes as a cost however, as the orthotics "push back" on the soles of my feet. And these are feet that have had water on them for 8 hours, as my shoes tended to stay wet on the bike.
Time was no longer important to me other than the sooner I finished, the sooner I could stop. I was dehydrated and hungry. They served watermelon on the course, and I think I ate too much, but it was so refreshing, and I was so sick of sports drink. Once we hit Cairns we had three and a half laps along the esplanade, some of it with athletes going both ways. This included a little trip out along the pier, and back. It meant running back to the finish at Fogarty Park three times before you got to go down the red carpet the fourth time.
Finally however, after my slowest marathon ever (approaching seven hours) I finished in 14:50-something. As soon as I could I was into the chicken soup. It tasted good. Jim came home shortly after, followed by Jono. Victoria was there to give me my medal. A new race on foreign shores can be a lot less personal than what I am used to. And while I don't know Vic that well she is one of my favorite people. I was so pleased.
The course was a fantastic one. It was a stroke of genius to do three and a half laps of the Cairns Esplanade, and the road closure for the bike course meant for a really great race overall. The course can comfortably handle a full field of around 1500, provided they manage the other events occurring on the day. A few minor things took the gloss off a pretty good day all around. Mainly the longer bike course which really was not necessary as they could have done the southern turn around anywhere they wanted to. Apart from that the guy managing the special needs bags packed up and went hope early, or so I was told. I never got my bag, which in the circumstances was not a big problem. The massage closed at 10.30pm so the poor guys who needed it the most did not get one, and the online athlete tracker also shut up shop early meaning those following from distant shores where left to believe their athletes had failed to finish. Worse than have no tracking system at all. I suspect there were too few volunteers who were then overloaded with very long tiring days. This is not to say it wasn't a well organised race. It was.
I think it will be key to get more locals into the race. This will mobilise the community to get behind the event. Certainly the crowds at the finish were much smaller than say ironman-distance races I have done in Taupo and Wanaka, despite there being a much larger population of residents and visitors. Smaller towns tend to get behind the races more, I think.
Mr Pink didn't cause nearly as much of a stir in Cairns than he does in New Zealand. Most people didn't bat an eyelid. It's hard taking your brand offshore!
Sunday, June 5, 2011
Bring it on...
It's dark, I have pink hair, and I'm on bus in the tropics. Apparently, we are off to see a race or something.
I slept reasonably well thanks to modern chemistry. Was awake from about 3am, so eventually got up and had the traditional strong coffee, peach slices and scrambled egg. On top of last night's steak and ciders, I reckon I'm good to go. Carbohydrate, you ask? No, carbs are for weenies, or when you race for just a few hours.
Doing a race for the first time is harder. But in ironman-distance racing you learn to deal with whatever is thrown at you as best as you possibly can.
This bus ride is too short. But I have Vivaldi for company. It must be summer.
I slept reasonably well thanks to modern chemistry. Was awake from about 3am, so eventually got up and had the traditional strong coffee, peach slices and scrambled egg. On top of last night's steak and ciders, I reckon I'm good to go. Carbohydrate, you ask? No, carbs are for weenies, or when you race for just a few hours.
Doing a race for the first time is harder. But in ironman-distance racing you learn to deal with whatever is thrown at you as best as you possibly can.
This bus ride is too short. But I have Vivaldi for company. It must be summer.
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Saturday, June 4, 2011
Race preparation
The start and transition are 20km away from the finish in Cairns, and where most of the athletes are staying. This presents some logistical problems, but it seems it is the only reasonable solution for the race. It will be interesting to see if they stick with the format for next year. This is the inaugural running of the event.
So yesterday I rented a car and went out for a practice swim at the Yorkeys Knob start area and transition. Swimming practices have to be managed to keep the "marine life" at bay, so there are only a couple of times in the buildup week it is safe to be out there. Full wetsuits are allowed, or rather encouraged despite the warmer conditions, as a safety measure against stingers and box jelly fish. It's OK, they say, there hasn't been a fatality in the area for many years.
Then later in the day, with Syko in tow, I drove out to Port Douglas to check out the cycle route. It's a kind of a one and a half lap course, mostly pancake flat on a good surface, except for a nasty little windy climb in the middle, which we go over twice in each direction. I was undecided whether to use the disc wheel or not, and I had brought a back up. But from the comfort of my motel room, I thought "how bad can it be" and set the bike up with the disc. I know I will pay for it on the nasty little climb, but then there is the sweeping downhill on the other side and the very long flats where it should hum along nicely.
Riding past these beaches will be tough!
Port Douglas is a lovely little village, and we turn there twice, riding down either side of the main street, which has been closed for the race. There should be a big crowd there.
Tomorrow morning I will have a 1km amble down to the bus stop, and then the bus ride out to Yorkeys Knob, where I will prepare my bike, then don my wet suit and head for glory, in my own small way. The weather forecast is 27 degrees max, 18 min, which seems to be the same every day.
So here I sit, the evening before the race feeling reasonably good, as pre-race evenings go, and without expectation about anything approaching a PB. Challenge have a policy to do their best to bring everyone home. You have to beat the traditional swim and bike cut-offs primarily for safety. But they have a total limit of 17:30 for the race, and I hope I don't have to use it all. The last 24km are laps along the Esplanade and a big crowd is expected. Mr Pink will be making his aussie debut, and it remains to be seen how the cobbers will deal with it.
Friday, June 3, 2011
Aussie, touristy and outbackish Cairns
I am not sure why I was a little surprised to find Cairns as a peculiar mix of aussie outback and tourist holiday mecca. I suppose I had no expectations so anything was a surprise. It is very tropical, with great big mango trees in the CBD. They are currently in full flower and full of enormous fruit bats which you can see in the middle of the day.
The esplanade along the waterfront is an amazing place. The Aussies have such a can do, must do attitude. They make things happen. For example, the major highway north to Port Douglas (big enough to be two lanes in each direction for part of the way) is actually closed for the race. And this attitude is refelected in the waterfront area. There are beach volley ball courts, exercise stations, plenty of well equipped barbeque areas, an amazing huge beach front pool, and an intoxicating array of pubs, restuarants and hotels. It seems in New Zealand whenever we try and spend any money to do anything, the socialist chorus winds up... I love New Zealand but it seems so socialist and PC that getting things done is much harder. I think then everyone suffers. But that is a different story.
Here are some shots of the swimming pool near the pier. A fabulous place for bird watching.
I've no idea how this shot got into my camera
Thursday, June 2, 2011
The blogger returns, Challenge Cairns
Well if Voetstoets is seeing a new entry, it must mean I am on another journey. It's been more than six months, and there is a missing post detailing my summer of (racing) love. More than 30 races under the belt in a heady mix of sprinting and endurance events. IMNZ in Taupo saw a PB of 13:30, a week later I qualified for the age-group champs in Beijing, and I brought home a clutch of cycling and running medals from the track in the Masters Games.
But back to the present, this time I'm off to Challenge Cairns, an inaugural race in the wonderful Challenge series.
My preparation for the race has been a bit of a disaster. You have to enter for these races very early as they often fill up, sometimes within a day of entries opening. And then to get good prices on air tickets again you must book a long time in advance. This opens the door for things to go wrong in training. After my amazing summer I was bound to hit a wall somewhere. Work pressures and a bad cold prevented me from doing any training at all in weeks 4, 3 and 2. I came right by the last week, but by then it was too late. This week I've had three 20 minute sessions in each sport to loosen up. Added to that I have run less than 6km in over two months, trying to rehabilitate an ankle that had been hassling me all summer too. But, I believe I have the legs anyway!
My flight over from Palmerston North via Auckland went without hitch. Pippi, my trusted P3 has a nice new bag. It still takes a while to pack her up because its a soft case and lots of padding is required, but it is still much quicker and easier than the old bubble wrap method I used to use.
I watched 'The Social Network' on the flight over. I thought it was a fantastic story. I missed it earlier because a friend of a friend had said it was a boring movie. But I sat mesmerised all the way through. I felt every emotion of Mark Zuckerberg, and while I thought he sometimes acted like a pratt, I could identify with his every move. I guess I had tried to do the kinds of things he did. In case you had not noticed, not quite as successfully. I live in hope.
Flying in over the reef was spectacular. All things being equal I will be able to spend a day out there on Tuesday. There is quite a lot to see and do here in Cairns, but I am here to race and that has priority.
My first priority was to settle into my room, get some food and drink and sort my internet. I have a nice room not too far from the city centre and race headquarters. It was difficult to find a quiet spot. Cairns has big wide roads everywhere so of course there are a lot of cars all over the place. The biggest problem has been sorting a decent internet connection. The motel advertised itself with wireless internet. Apart from being unreasonably expensive, there is zero signal in my room, and elsewhere in the motel it is poor at best. So I tried to find a local SIM card instead. I found four tattoo shops before I found one selling SIM cards. But that was because I was looking for a mobile phone shop. They don't seem to have them here. You buy your phones, SIMs and plans from many corner shops. It was a fantastic deal with almost unlimited data and $300 of calling and texting worldwide for just $30. What's up with the pricing in New Zealand? The only catch is that the data flow shuts down in late afternoon and does not become usable till about 11pm. So I try and do what I need to do outside of those times. I get reasonablly good mobile broadband speeds in the morning. I noticed the same thing in London too. It doesn't seem to be related to signal strength. But you can't get any sensible statement on it from the mobile providers.
So, I'm settled and connected. It will be an interesting fantastic week.
But back to the present, this time I'm off to Challenge Cairns, an inaugural race in the wonderful Challenge series.
My preparation for the race has been a bit of a disaster. You have to enter for these races very early as they often fill up, sometimes within a day of entries opening. And then to get good prices on air tickets again you must book a long time in advance. This opens the door for things to go wrong in training. After my amazing summer I was bound to hit a wall somewhere. Work pressures and a bad cold prevented me from doing any training at all in weeks 4, 3 and 2. I came right by the last week, but by then it was too late. This week I've had three 20 minute sessions in each sport to loosen up. Added to that I have run less than 6km in over two months, trying to rehabilitate an ankle that had been hassling me all summer too. But, I believe I have the legs anyway!
My flight over from Palmerston North via Auckland went without hitch. Pippi, my trusted P3 has a nice new bag. It still takes a while to pack her up because its a soft case and lots of padding is required, but it is still much quicker and easier than the old bubble wrap method I used to use.
I watched 'The Social Network' on the flight over. I thought it was a fantastic story. I missed it earlier because a friend of a friend had said it was a boring movie. But I sat mesmerised all the way through. I felt every emotion of Mark Zuckerberg, and while I thought he sometimes acted like a pratt, I could identify with his every move. I guess I had tried to do the kinds of things he did. In case you had not noticed, not quite as successfully. I live in hope.
Flying in over the reef was spectacular. All things being equal I will be able to spend a day out there on Tuesday. There is quite a lot to see and do here in Cairns, but I am here to race and that has priority.
My first priority was to settle into my room, get some food and drink and sort my internet. I have a nice room not too far from the city centre and race headquarters. It was difficult to find a quiet spot. Cairns has big wide roads everywhere so of course there are a lot of cars all over the place. The biggest problem has been sorting a decent internet connection. The motel advertised itself with wireless internet. Apart from being unreasonably expensive, there is zero signal in my room, and elsewhere in the motel it is poor at best. So I tried to find a local SIM card instead. I found four tattoo shops before I found one selling SIM cards. But that was because I was looking for a mobile phone shop. They don't seem to have them here. You buy your phones, SIMs and plans from many corner shops. It was a fantastic deal with almost unlimited data and $300 of calling and texting worldwide for just $30. What's up with the pricing in New Zealand? The only catch is that the data flow shuts down in late afternoon and does not become usable till about 11pm. So I try and do what I need to do outside of those times. I get reasonablly good mobile broadband speeds in the morning. I noticed the same thing in London too. It doesn't seem to be related to signal strength. But you can't get any sensible statement on it from the mobile providers.
So, I'm settled and connected. It will be an interesting fantastic week.
Sunday, September 5, 2010
Duathlon World Champs Race Report
My race was tough. Everything had gone according to plan over the last week, although I was a bit tired from traveling, and I knew what to expect. I had been over the course, and was well aware of the hills we had to go up five times on the bike and three times on the run.
My race was at 2pm and I met up with Murray just outside our residence at 12 noon so we could ride down together. We needed to be there in plenty of time in case we had to sort out any issues, but not so early was to exhaust ourselves sitting around. We were to race with the 50-54 year olds as well.
Check in went smoothly, and we hung around warming up and making sure we were getting enough fluids and also an understanding of how transition worked - it changed every few races to accommodate the "moving" bike racks.
At 2pm we took off - well everyone else did! The pace was hectic, and it was more than enough for me. The reality of my last nine weeks came home to me. Let me recap.
* I had been in fabulous shape, worried that I was doing to much and that "something was going to go wrong" about nine weeks out. At this point I picked up a mild cold, but wasn't worried and took a few days off and kept it easy for another week.
* Then in the third club duathlon of the season an orange safety road cone jumped out and attacked me (OK, so I wasn't looking where I was going, being more concerned on a safe merge with the traffic ahead at an intersection). I fell hard, but nothing was broken, and apart from the bruising I had a pulled abductor which kept me out for a week.
* Stupidly, I then raced in the abductor which put me out for another week.
* Thereafter a bunch of small things started to accumulate - none of them serious but all keeping me out of training for 2-5 days each - a strained lower back, a pulled hamstring, a sore knee, and an aching shoulder, the last two keeping me awake at night. These things were most likely a direct result of the accident.
* Add to this shin splints and an inflamed achilles because I was doing intervals in the track in an effort to make up lost ground - possibly counter-productive.
So I finished the run about two places from the back of the field and already one lap down to the top few guys. It got worse on the bike as most of the field lapped me, and I only made up a few places. I'm just not used to this pace after so many years of ironman training and 'racing'.
The second run hurt, but I could not walk, and my speed was reduced to over 5 minute kilometers by the end of it. I finished second to last in my age group, and some 10 minutes slower than I had hoped on that course. Nevertheless I was pleased with my effort under the circumstances and I feel I went well. However I shan't be back until I can manage 4 minute kilometers on the run without going into the 'red-zone'.
My race was at 2pm and I met up with Murray just outside our residence at 12 noon so we could ride down together. We needed to be there in plenty of time in case we had to sort out any issues, but not so early was to exhaust ourselves sitting around. We were to race with the 50-54 year olds as well.
Check in went smoothly, and we hung around warming up and making sure we were getting enough fluids and also an understanding of how transition worked - it changed every few races to accommodate the "moving" bike racks.
At 2pm we took off - well everyone else did! The pace was hectic, and it was more than enough for me. The reality of my last nine weeks came home to me. Let me recap.
* I had been in fabulous shape, worried that I was doing to much and that "something was going to go wrong" about nine weeks out. At this point I picked up a mild cold, but wasn't worried and took a few days off and kept it easy for another week.
* Then in the third club duathlon of the season an orange safety road cone jumped out and attacked me (OK, so I wasn't looking where I was going, being more concerned on a safe merge with the traffic ahead at an intersection). I fell hard, but nothing was broken, and apart from the bruising I had a pulled abductor which kept me out for a week.
* Stupidly, I then raced in the abductor which put me out for another week.
* Thereafter a bunch of small things started to accumulate - none of them serious but all keeping me out of training for 2-5 days each - a strained lower back, a pulled hamstring, a sore knee, and an aching shoulder, the last two keeping me awake at night. These things were most likely a direct result of the accident.
* Add to this shin splints and an inflamed achilles because I was doing intervals in the track in an effort to make up lost ground - possibly counter-productive.
So I finished the run about two places from the back of the field and already one lap down to the top few guys. It got worse on the bike as most of the field lapped me, and I only made up a few places. I'm just not used to this pace after so many years of ironman training and 'racing'.
The second run hurt, but I could not walk, and my speed was reduced to over 5 minute kilometers by the end of it. I finished second to last in my age group, and some 10 minutes slower than I had hoped on that course. Nevertheless I was pleased with my effort under the circumstances and I feel I went well. However I shan't be back until I can manage 4 minute kilometers on the run without going into the 'red-zone'.
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