...since I last posted. A long while in fact. What have I been up to?
You'll have to wait and see :)
Will write a longer piece in the next couple of days.
Perspective
It's been 2.5 weeks since Cairns and it's been a bit of a roller coaster. Going straight back into long days at work and a few stressful situations is not something that would usually affect me; that's often the norm at least a couple of days of the week.
However, coming back from the race then back into that environment hit me for six. A combination of the "come down" effect I heard about, the adrenalin drop out, no training, topped up stress levels and lack of sleep = a very bad fallout.
What this highlighted is the importance of pre-race recovery, rest and time out. I'm sure I knew about this somewhere in the back of my mind (I'd certainly read enough articles on it) but my stubbornness got the better of me and I (stupidly) thought I could somehow sail through that period, that I wouldn't need it, I felt physically fine so there was no need to stop. What a nugget.
I was ignoring the fact that I was mentally exhausted. An extended season due to race changes, a build up of work pressures and general fatigue had left me feeling a bit disenchanted with the whole triathlon scene. My life had been so squarely focussed around this one race for so long, triathlon seemed to engulf my life from so many angles, that the switch just flicked and I was done. Couldn't face the pool, my bike or the thought of running. In fact, the thought of any exercise just couldn't motivate me so it wasn't just triathlon. I had athlete fatigue and needed to give myself the break of not worrying about it for awhile.....until that fire in the belly started to come back and I could look at my bike again without feeling a sense of dread.
It's loosely called giving-yourself-a-break and living-like-a-normal-person. I've slept in. Eaten crap. Sat around. Watched other people run and ride their bikes. Stared at my swimsuit without guilt. Gotten scared by the numbers on the scales. Whatever. Sometimes, the obsessive compulsiveness of this sport creeps up on us and we beat ourselves up because we miss a session or two and think we're done, a failure.
You know what? I trained solidly for 7 months. Can anyone seriously say that 2.5 weeks of chilling out and enjoying life is going to ruin that?
What this self-imposed training exile has allowed me to do is think about what is important in my life; what I value, who I value, what adds happiness to my life. Are there things that cause me unnecessary stress? Can I simplify things? And I've realised a lot of things which I won't share here - but have made some changes as a result and feel infinitely happier.
I've challenged my thinking on certain beliefs, on my lifestyle, on where I see my life headed. I've had the headspace, the time and the energy to seriously think through these things and consider where I want triathlon to fit in this picture. And as a result, I feel more positive, more recharged and more determined then I think I did when I originally started this half ironman journey. Because there are lots of things that are important in life - you've just got to figure out what they are for you.
However, coming back from the race then back into that environment hit me for six. A combination of the "come down" effect I heard about, the adrenalin drop out, no training, topped up stress levels and lack of sleep = a very bad fallout.
What this highlighted is the importance of pre-race recovery, rest and time out. I'm sure I knew about this somewhere in the back of my mind (I'd certainly read enough articles on it) but my stubbornness got the better of me and I (stupidly) thought I could somehow sail through that period, that I wouldn't need it, I felt physically fine so there was no need to stop. What a nugget.
I was ignoring the fact that I was mentally exhausted. An extended season due to race changes, a build up of work pressures and general fatigue had left me feeling a bit disenchanted with the whole triathlon scene. My life had been so squarely focussed around this one race for so long, triathlon seemed to engulf my life from so many angles, that the switch just flicked and I was done. Couldn't face the pool, my bike or the thought of running. In fact, the thought of any exercise just couldn't motivate me so it wasn't just triathlon. I had athlete fatigue and needed to give myself the break of not worrying about it for awhile.....until that fire in the belly started to come back and I could look at my bike again without feeling a sense of dread.
It's loosely called giving-yourself-a-break and living-like-a-normal-person. I've slept in. Eaten crap. Sat around. Watched other people run and ride their bikes. Stared at my swimsuit without guilt. Gotten scared by the numbers on the scales. Whatever. Sometimes, the obsessive compulsiveness of this sport creeps up on us and we beat ourselves up because we miss a session or two and think we're done, a failure.
You know what? I trained solidly for 7 months. Can anyone seriously say that 2.5 weeks of chilling out and enjoying life is going to ruin that?
What this self-imposed training exile has allowed me to do is think about what is important in my life; what I value, who I value, what adds happiness to my life. Are there things that cause me unnecessary stress? Can I simplify things? And I've realised a lot of things which I won't share here - but have made some changes as a result and feel infinitely happier.
I've challenged my thinking on certain beliefs, on my lifestyle, on where I see my life headed. I've had the headspace, the time and the energy to seriously think through these things and consider where I want triathlon to fit in this picture. And as a result, I feel more positive, more recharged and more determined then I think I did when I originally started this half ironman journey. Because there are lots of things that are important in life - you've just got to figure out what they are for you.
That's why there's "I" in tr-i-athlon
After finishing the race you've been working towards for so long, I found it was easy to lose perspective quite quickly. Triathlon is an all-encompassing sport and we spend so long in our little world that it is easy to forget that what we do, compared to the general public, is pretty damn exceptional. But rubbing shoulders with gifted athletes, or athletes who have been in the sport (or even one of the sports) for many years can make you feel intimidated or perhaps even a little disappointed by the result you have achieved if you fall into the trap of comparing your effort to theirs.
One of the reasons I love triathlon is because it is an individual sport. You don't rely on anyone else, success or failure is all up to you and almost solely in your control (race mishaps or mechanicals aside). You can't hide behind anyone if you're having a bad day, wait for team members to correct your errors. It's you, making the small decisions each step of the race.
Being an individual sport, you have to remember your individual circumstances. Some people will come into triathlon with a strong, or long, background in one of the three disciplines. I race the 30-34 age group, so I'm aware that some of those girls may have been running, swimming or cycling recreationally or competitively for up to 15 years. I haven't. There's little value in trying to compare my efforts or my performance against other people as you simply do not know what their relative "training age" (as my coach puts it) will be.
I was given the analogy of my career. When I was fresh out of law school, 1-2 years in, how was I as a lawyer? My response - not very good. Not well trained, but did my best with what I knew. 9, almost 10 years on, things are different. Well trained, confident and things are much easier now. Similarly with sport, we need to consider our training age. For me, until I started triathlon, I never ran - what a horrible suggestion :) Queenslanders don't run, it's too bloody hot! I was repulsed at the thought of running and I've never forget my first triathlon last year, struggling terribly to finish the 2km run. Awful. I'd never ridden a bike (aside from when I was a kid, rolling around the neighbourhood on my pink mountain bike) until 2 years ago. And while I did swim squad for close to a decade, it had been close to 15 years since I had been in a pool. Triathlon was a bloody struggle starting out, but I think this is part of what I loved - such a challenge to do things I'd never done before.
When you look at your own personal background and your own personal training age, how can you not be proud of your achievements? Going from barely able to run 2km 18 months ago to finishing my first half-ironman (21km of running!) is something I am proud of. However, if you fall into the trap of comparing times, placings etc to those of other athletes (and we've all done it), you lose sight of your personal achievements and can move from celebrating your success to feeling disappointed.
We have to remember that what we do is something that 99.4% of the rest of the population could never dream of. My dad is the one who put this into perspective for me. I was a bit down about my run and was letting it get to me. He looked me in the eye and said "I can understand how in your world what you've just done might not be a big deal because it seems like something everyone does. But step outside and have a look around - the vast majority of people in this country could never fathom what you have just done and will never even attempt it. You should be incredibly proud of what you have accomplished because most people will never do this in their lifetime".
It was very humbling seeing the passion in my dad's eyes as he said this. He was so proud and I could tell just didn't understand how I could be remotely disappointed. And he's right. There's a big "I" in triathlon and it's got nothing to do with anybody else. Our little triathlon world can suck us in and make it easy for us to lose sight of our own goals and our own paths - when what everyone else is doing is irrelevant.
For me, at training age 2, I'm going to keep working hard at everything. I have my goals and I love that this sport lets me explore a totally different area of myself then my day job does. I love seeing what my body is capable of. And best of all, I love celebrating my friend's successes. That's the other benefit of triathlon - as an individual sport, you also get to celebrate individual success and that will take many forms. Whether its qualifying for a world championships, a PB or finishing a first race - it's so exciting to be involved in these moments.
One of the reasons I love triathlon is because it is an individual sport. You don't rely on anyone else, success or failure is all up to you and almost solely in your control (race mishaps or mechanicals aside). You can't hide behind anyone if you're having a bad day, wait for team members to correct your errors. It's you, making the small decisions each step of the race.
Being an individual sport, you have to remember your individual circumstances. Some people will come into triathlon with a strong, or long, background in one of the three disciplines. I race the 30-34 age group, so I'm aware that some of those girls may have been running, swimming or cycling recreationally or competitively for up to 15 years. I haven't. There's little value in trying to compare my efforts or my performance against other people as you simply do not know what their relative "training age" (as my coach puts it) will be.
I was given the analogy of my career. When I was fresh out of law school, 1-2 years in, how was I as a lawyer? My response - not very good. Not well trained, but did my best with what I knew. 9, almost 10 years on, things are different. Well trained, confident and things are much easier now. Similarly with sport, we need to consider our training age. For me, until I started triathlon, I never ran - what a horrible suggestion :) Queenslanders don't run, it's too bloody hot! I was repulsed at the thought of running and I've never forget my first triathlon last year, struggling terribly to finish the 2km run. Awful. I'd never ridden a bike (aside from when I was a kid, rolling around the neighbourhood on my pink mountain bike) until 2 years ago. And while I did swim squad for close to a decade, it had been close to 15 years since I had been in a pool. Triathlon was a bloody struggle starting out, but I think this is part of what I loved - such a challenge to do things I'd never done before.
When you look at your own personal background and your own personal training age, how can you not be proud of your achievements? Going from barely able to run 2km 18 months ago to finishing my first half-ironman (21km of running!) is something I am proud of. However, if you fall into the trap of comparing times, placings etc to those of other athletes (and we've all done it), you lose sight of your personal achievements and can move from celebrating your success to feeling disappointed.
We have to remember that what we do is something that 99.4% of the rest of the population could never dream of. My dad is the one who put this into perspective for me. I was a bit down about my run and was letting it get to me. He looked me in the eye and said "I can understand how in your world what you've just done might not be a big deal because it seems like something everyone does. But step outside and have a look around - the vast majority of people in this country could never fathom what you have just done and will never even attempt it. You should be incredibly proud of what you have accomplished because most people will never do this in their lifetime".
It was very humbling seeing the passion in my dad's eyes as he said this. He was so proud and I could tell just didn't understand how I could be remotely disappointed. And he's right. There's a big "I" in triathlon and it's got nothing to do with anybody else. Our little triathlon world can suck us in and make it easy for us to lose sight of our own goals and our own paths - when what everyone else is doing is irrelevant.
For me, at training age 2, I'm going to keep working hard at everything. I have my goals and I love that this sport lets me explore a totally different area of myself then my day job does. I love seeing what my body is capable of. And best of all, I love celebrating my friend's successes. That's the other benefit of triathlon - as an individual sport, you also get to celebrate individual success and that will take many forms. Whether its qualifying for a world championships, a PB or finishing a first race - it's so exciting to be involved in these moments.
Postcards from 70.3 Cairns
Executive Summary
First half-ironman. 5:42:45. Top 20 finish 30-34 female. It was a massive challenge start to finish but I am rapt with this result.
The detail
I arrived in Cairns on Wednesday and it had rained non-stop. Literally, non-stop. However, as race morning dawned, the wind was still, the sky's were clear and the forecast was for a hot, hot humid race.
5:20am and walking down to transition, I passed some Danish backpackers who were just heading home after what was evidently a large night. In broken English, I got a "good luck, cycle hard" and smiled.
Arriving in transition, I felt calm and relaxed. I had plenty of time to go through the motions of pumping tyres, filling bottles and checking mechanics. As I was filling up my bottles I took a sip of my drink (which I had made up last night) and gagged. Overnight, something had happened and my usual mixture (plus an electrolyte tab) had almost fermented into a sickly sweet taste. Undrinkable. I had to water it down, but to do so I would have to dump roughly half of each bottle (meaning half of my nutrition). There was nothing I could do so I found some water via a volunteer and set about fixing the problem. I'd have to figure it out on the bike (Lesson # 1 learnt).
Swim
To get to the swim start, we all had to shuffle down the relatively narrow pier to jump into the water and swim out to the marked starting point. Trying to shuffle ~1200 HIM athletes down a narrow path was always going to be hard and, as it turned out, some people logistically could not get near the swim start for when the gun sounded. Very unfair when everyone was where they needed to be prior to the start.
Unlike other HIM races I've watched or entered (but then withdrawn), Cairns was a mass start like Ironman. I'm aware that mass starts are hectic, rough and can be downright menacing and was mentally prepared to battle for the first 300-400m before finding some feet or water and get into some sort of stroke.
However, this was something else (again, this is my first one so I don't have anything to compare it to; maybe its always like this). Within the first few minutes, I copped a strong kick to the nose and face and by some miracle my goggles didn't dislodge. My momentary stop in shock, though, led to the beginning of 20min of feet grabbing, belting, head dragging and a few men from the teams (who started 5min after us I think) grabbing my waist and actually pushing me down under the water so they could swim over the top of me. To me, it was frightening and dangerous and I'm someone who has grown up in the water and surf swimming. It was like this for the first 1100m, just a constant battle with no clear water and men grabbing and belting me. I wasted so much energy trying to stay afloat, yelling at a few who were being complete pricks and calming my heart rate down after the couple of underwater pushes.
Basically, by 1200m I just wanted to get the hell out of the water as quickly as possible. It was difficult to navigate back to shore but at least it wasn't the shit fight that it was going out. Got to the stairs, ran up them and under the showers and started the 500m run to transition (yup 500m!!) . Found out later around 37 min. Slowest swim time ever but given the conditions, pleased with that.
Bike
Basically, the half-ironman was being run exactly the same as the ironman. We ran up to the transition tent, grabbed our cycle bag and into the change tents were some people were helped by volunteers to get wetsuits off etc. I just ripped mine off, grabbed my sunglasses and number belt, shoved the wetsuit in the bag and then....well actually I can't remember what I did with it. Must have put it in the right place as I have it now! Ran into the monster transition, found bike easily and ran out navigating around everyone. The mount line was tiny so I ended up running a fair way up before jumping on and heading off.
The first 20min or so of the bike course was pretty slow as we were sent around built up areas with only one lane closed. It made it absolutely impossible to stick to the 12 x 3 draft rule (as the width of the road wasn't 3 metres in most places). Once onto the Captain Cook Hwy it was a little better, but packs quickly formed and I was waiting to see a TO come past. They never did (I only saw 1 TO take notice of drafting the entire ride). The road surface of the Hwy was excellent, however it didn't last as most of the ride was on rocky rough, dead bitchem. The road quality was pretty bad, but fortunately the scenery made up for it! The road roughness ended up messing with my shifting & gears, as well as my seat post (it dropped about 4-5mm and started making some horrible noises!) but what can you do - I wasn't about to stop to check this out, I knew what was happening and tried to compensate as best as I could.
At about the 35k mark, we climbed up, down, up, down the side of a mountain. Sharp, steep climbing for roughly 20min which stung the legs. Some people were walking their bikes up! I was pretty surprised by that. We heard afterwards that one of the EnduranceTeam athletes came off going down the steep climb after hitting a pothole (there was a few of those on the road) and got ripped up pretty bad. Lots of guys going down on aerobars which freaked me out as I was going down behind them - not safe boys, those were some tight corners.
The ride itself is an undulating course. The road quality adds that additional sting to the legs. The views, however, are what you hear - gorgeous, picturesque. I did spare a few moments to take them in!! The sun was well and truly out by this stage and a lot of people were sweating like dogs. I felt relatively cool (thanks to this little number!) and well hydrated, although I had missed an aid station due to bikes everywhere and I knew I was behind on my nutrition but again - you live and learn (Lesson #2 learnt).
Coming back into T2 (at a different location), checked the Garmin and saw 2:49 ish and 32kph av. Really happy with that time on the course. Gave the bike to a handler (again, Ironman treatment!) and ran over to get my run bag and into the change tent.
Run
Within the 1st km, people were walking. It was hot, but it wasn't normal hot. It was hot in the way that sapped everything from your muscles and just left you feeling like you had nothing left. The first 4km was really tough. Trying to get the legs into a rhythm, and knowing (by how I was feeling) I hadn't taken on enough nutrition on the bike, it was going to be tough. I decided to break it down into 2km blocks between aid stations and this was the best decision I made. It made the half marathon in those conditions manageable as you knew you were only 2km away from the next water, hose off, sponge, coke, gel or ice. And truly I needed every aid station.
This was a point to point run so we ran probably 17-18km through the hot, barren cane fields in Cairns. There were some small false flats which I normally would not have noticed but, funnily enough, when you are suffering in the heat any tiny incline feels like Mount Everest!! I had moments of feeling good, there was a patch between 8-14km I was feeling ok (relatively speaking), but the rest of the run was an enormous mental battle. Just focusing on the 2km blocks, trying to stay as cool and as hydrated as possible, and not walk. I walked aid stations (to get in fluid), I stopped twice for 10sec to regroup but that was it. I didn't walk at all and I am proud of that, particularly as it was my first half marathon (or 21.2km as we were told).
The last 3km was hands down the hardest. Around midday, smoking hot, so close to home, you could see it but I felt like I was running on the spot. People were walking between 19-21km; so close to home, spectators cheering but so spent they can't muster a shuffle. That's long course I guess.
I've never been so happy and delirious to see the flags down the finishing area, meaning I was 100m or so from the finish. I don't remember too much; what I can recall is at about the 1km mark pushing into 5:30km pace (that's right, really motoring ;) to pass a girl just in case she was in my age group. But once in the flags and then in the chute its all a blur. I can't remember the people or cheering. I remember slowing about 5m from the finish so a guy in front could have his finish line moment and then I crossed after him. Relieved to be finished. And so exhausted.
A volunteer put the medal around my next, I couldn't talk so I just nodded. She explained we would walk to recovery. I nodded, swaying a bit. Then I managed my first words: "It's so bloody hot" The volunteer's response: "Welcome to Cairns". Really summed up the day nicely!
Post-script
This was a tough race. I am proud to have completed it, particularly as my first half ironman. After changing from Busselton to Cairns 6 weeks ago, I knew it would be a challenge as the course and climates are totally different - I learnt so much and I feel like I took on everything that was thrown at me during the day and didn't give up.
I've now got a base and some lessons to work with for the next 4 months before 70.3 Port Macquarie in October. I know what I need to work on and test and areas I need to really nail over the winter.
Now, for another nap and maybe some sun!
First half-ironman. 5:42:45. Top 20 finish 30-34 female. It was a massive challenge start to finish but I am rapt with this result.
The detail
I arrived in Cairns on Wednesday and it had rained non-stop. Literally, non-stop. However, as race morning dawned, the wind was still, the sky's were clear and the forecast was for a hot, hot humid race.
5:20am and walking down to transition, I passed some Danish backpackers who were just heading home after what was evidently a large night. In broken English, I got a "good luck, cycle hard" and smiled.
Arriving in transition, I felt calm and relaxed. I had plenty of time to go through the motions of pumping tyres, filling bottles and checking mechanics. As I was filling up my bottles I took a sip of my drink (which I had made up last night) and gagged. Overnight, something had happened and my usual mixture (plus an electrolyte tab) had almost fermented into a sickly sweet taste. Undrinkable. I had to water it down, but to do so I would have to dump roughly half of each bottle (meaning half of my nutrition). There was nothing I could do so I found some water via a volunteer and set about fixing the problem. I'd have to figure it out on the bike (Lesson # 1 learnt).
Swim
To get to the swim start, we all had to shuffle down the relatively narrow pier to jump into the water and swim out to the marked starting point. Trying to shuffle ~1200 HIM athletes down a narrow path was always going to be hard and, as it turned out, some people logistically could not get near the swim start for when the gun sounded. Very unfair when everyone was where they needed to be prior to the start.
Unlike other HIM races I've watched or entered (but then withdrawn), Cairns was a mass start like Ironman. I'm aware that mass starts are hectic, rough and can be downright menacing and was mentally prepared to battle for the first 300-400m before finding some feet or water and get into some sort of stroke.
However, this was something else (again, this is my first one so I don't have anything to compare it to; maybe its always like this). Within the first few minutes, I copped a strong kick to the nose and face and by some miracle my goggles didn't dislodge. My momentary stop in shock, though, led to the beginning of 20min of feet grabbing, belting, head dragging and a few men from the teams (who started 5min after us I think) grabbing my waist and actually pushing me down under the water so they could swim over the top of me. To me, it was frightening and dangerous and I'm someone who has grown up in the water and surf swimming. It was like this for the first 1100m, just a constant battle with no clear water and men grabbing and belting me. I wasted so much energy trying to stay afloat, yelling at a few who were being complete pricks and calming my heart rate down after the couple of underwater pushes.
Basically, by 1200m I just wanted to get the hell out of the water as quickly as possible. It was difficult to navigate back to shore but at least it wasn't the shit fight that it was going out. Got to the stairs, ran up them and under the showers and started the 500m run to transition (yup 500m!!) . Found out later around 37 min. Slowest swim time ever but given the conditions, pleased with that.
Bike
Basically, the half-ironman was being run exactly the same as the ironman. We ran up to the transition tent, grabbed our cycle bag and into the change tents were some people were helped by volunteers to get wetsuits off etc. I just ripped mine off, grabbed my sunglasses and number belt, shoved the wetsuit in the bag and then....well actually I can't remember what I did with it. Must have put it in the right place as I have it now! Ran into the monster transition, found bike easily and ran out navigating around everyone. The mount line was tiny so I ended up running a fair way up before jumping on and heading off.
The first 20min or so of the bike course was pretty slow as we were sent around built up areas with only one lane closed. It made it absolutely impossible to stick to the 12 x 3 draft rule (as the width of the road wasn't 3 metres in most places). Once onto the Captain Cook Hwy it was a little better, but packs quickly formed and I was waiting to see a TO come past. They never did (I only saw 1 TO take notice of drafting the entire ride). The road surface of the Hwy was excellent, however it didn't last as most of the ride was on rocky rough, dead bitchem. The road quality was pretty bad, but fortunately the scenery made up for it! The road roughness ended up messing with my shifting & gears, as well as my seat post (it dropped about 4-5mm and started making some horrible noises!) but what can you do - I wasn't about to stop to check this out, I knew what was happening and tried to compensate as best as I could.
At about the 35k mark, we climbed up, down, up, down the side of a mountain. Sharp, steep climbing for roughly 20min which stung the legs. Some people were walking their bikes up! I was pretty surprised by that. We heard afterwards that one of the EnduranceTeam athletes came off going down the steep climb after hitting a pothole (there was a few of those on the road) and got ripped up pretty bad. Lots of guys going down on aerobars which freaked me out as I was going down behind them - not safe boys, those were some tight corners.
The ride itself is an undulating course. The road quality adds that additional sting to the legs. The views, however, are what you hear - gorgeous, picturesque. I did spare a few moments to take them in!! The sun was well and truly out by this stage and a lot of people were sweating like dogs. I felt relatively cool (thanks to this little number!) and well hydrated, although I had missed an aid station due to bikes everywhere and I knew I was behind on my nutrition but again - you live and learn (Lesson #2 learnt).
Coming back into T2 (at a different location), checked the Garmin and saw 2:49 ish and 32kph av. Really happy with that time on the course. Gave the bike to a handler (again, Ironman treatment!) and ran over to get my run bag and into the change tent.
Run
Within the 1st km, people were walking. It was hot, but it wasn't normal hot. It was hot in the way that sapped everything from your muscles and just left you feeling like you had nothing left. The first 4km was really tough. Trying to get the legs into a rhythm, and knowing (by how I was feeling) I hadn't taken on enough nutrition on the bike, it was going to be tough. I decided to break it down into 2km blocks between aid stations and this was the best decision I made. It made the half marathon in those conditions manageable as you knew you were only 2km away from the next water, hose off, sponge, coke, gel or ice. And truly I needed every aid station.
This was a point to point run so we ran probably 17-18km through the hot, barren cane fields in Cairns. There were some small false flats which I normally would not have noticed but, funnily enough, when you are suffering in the heat any tiny incline feels like Mount Everest!! I had moments of feeling good, there was a patch between 8-14km I was feeling ok (relatively speaking), but the rest of the run was an enormous mental battle. Just focusing on the 2km blocks, trying to stay as cool and as hydrated as possible, and not walk. I walked aid stations (to get in fluid), I stopped twice for 10sec to regroup but that was it. I didn't walk at all and I am proud of that, particularly as it was my first half marathon (or 21.2km as we were told).
The last 3km was hands down the hardest. Around midday, smoking hot, so close to home, you could see it but I felt like I was running on the spot. People were walking between 19-21km; so close to home, spectators cheering but so spent they can't muster a shuffle. That's long course I guess.
I've never been so happy and delirious to see the flags down the finishing area, meaning I was 100m or so from the finish. I don't remember too much; what I can recall is at about the 1km mark pushing into 5:30km pace (that's right, really motoring ;) to pass a girl just in case she was in my age group. But once in the flags and then in the chute its all a blur. I can't remember the people or cheering. I remember slowing about 5m from the finish so a guy in front could have his finish line moment and then I crossed after him. Relieved to be finished. And so exhausted.
A volunteer put the medal around my next, I couldn't talk so I just nodded. She explained we would walk to recovery. I nodded, swaying a bit. Then I managed my first words: "It's so bloody hot" The volunteer's response: "Welcome to Cairns". Really summed up the day nicely!
Post-script
This was a tough race. I am proud to have completed it, particularly as my first half ironman. After changing from Busselton to Cairns 6 weeks ago, I knew it would be a challenge as the course and climates are totally different - I learnt so much and I feel like I took on everything that was thrown at me during the day and didn't give up.
I've now got a base and some lessons to work with for the next 4 months before 70.3 Port Macquarie in October. I know what I need to work on and test and areas I need to really nail over the winter.
Now, for another nap and maybe some sun!
So where the bloody hell are you?
I landed in the Sunshine State yesterday, my home, the state with aqua clear water, clear blue skies, where women skip along the waterfront in tiny bikinis flashing their bronzed skin while men muscle up in board shorts with a surfboard under one arm and stubby in the other. I was excited. I'd been suffering in Melbourne, eagerly awaiting this time away where I could remember what it felt like to be in heat, humidity and suffering sweaty-ness.
Sigh. That would all be true if the plane diverted to Hawaii.
In the 24ish hours since landing, it has been cold, windy and has rained non-stop. Never mind, I thought, this can't bring me down! I'm on holidays! And I live in Melbourne...pfft this is nothing.
Then I remembered I'd need my wet weather gear. It's excellent I remembered this while at Cairns airport when said gear is still at home. In Melbourne.
Never mind, I've ridden in worse before. Who needs wet weather gear when its barely raining?
I get to the apartment and it's cold. I dig into my suitcase for some warm clothes, specifically a tracksuit and remember - that's at home too. In Melbourne. Fortunately I am staying next to Cairns' answer to Chadstone so a quick 20min later and I've stocked up on some Melbourne-appropriate gear (while silently thinking this is CRAZY that I'm wearing jumpers in Cairns....anyone who doesn't believe in global warming, please, come and take a look at the tropical north these days).
Up early this morning for an easy 90min ride. I had no idea where to ride as we were told not to ride on the Captain Cook Highway until race day (and I accidentally learnt why this is so when I ended up on said highway with semis roaring past. Got it). So I rode around following bike lanes until I found a decent run along a road parallel to the Highway. It seems others have found their way to this road as I was joined by a kiwi guy for part of the way who was doing his 2nd IM after surviving (I think that's an appropriate term, given the weather on that day) Ironman New Zealand 2011. Any concerns I had about the mild rain and wind in Cairns were kept to myself.
It was during the ride that I realised my gears were not shifting properly. I couldn't get them right so I thought, never mind, there's a stack of bike shops around. I'll just pull into one near my apartment and get them to look at it.
Which I did, and they did and the gear problem was sorted quickly. The source of the gear problem, however, was a suspected worn chain which the mechanic informed me "should" last the race.
"Should" is not "will" and in my line of work is the sort of language we use when either (a) we know exactly what the right decision is but are trying to guide another person to make that decision; or (b) we are not sure what the answer is so are trying to protect ourselves by indicating that there is room for more than one possible outcome.
Either of these circumstances was not going to fly for me. "Should" had to be turned into "will" immediately. However, for this to happen, I was informed I would also need a new cassette. I'm not sure if that was a "should" get a new cassette or I "will" need a new cassette. In any event, by this stage I just wanted to get this shit sorted so I told them to do whatever needed to be done (which I suppose in mechanic terms is the equivalent to throwing your credit card behind the bar).
I didn't care if I was being taken for a ride or not; as a fellow Queenslander, generally we are an honest bunch and with 2 major races in 3 days time, their workshop booked out and people coming in and out looking for help, I don't think they were in any need of extra work taking up their day.
These guys could not have been friendlier and more helpful; I hung out in the shop for an hour (in full kit, helmet still on like a loser) and chatted away to them, their Specialized rep and had a great morning (dint in the credit card aside). Made me remember how friendly and open people up here are; down to earth and aways up for a chat. So to the guys at Pump 'N' Pedals, thank you for helping out this Melbourne girl today at the last minute.
After this little detour to my planned morning, I went down to the Esplanade to check out the race start and see how things were looking. The water was in a sorry state and I can only hope it improves by Sunday:
Transition was taking shape and that's when I started to feel excited:
But the thing that really got me buzzed was seeing the finishing line arch. I honestly cannot wait to cross that line on Sunday; the culmination of 7 solid months of training towards that one goal:
Forecast is for a max of 28 degrees, 8km/hr S, 80+% humidity and late showers. If that eventuates, it will be perfect tropical weather for a race. Fingers crossed!
Sigh. That would all be true if the plane diverted to Hawaii.
In the 24ish hours since landing, it has been cold, windy and has rained non-stop. Never mind, I thought, this can't bring me down! I'm on holidays! And I live in Melbourne...pfft this is nothing.
Then I remembered I'd need my wet weather gear. It's excellent I remembered this while at Cairns airport when said gear is still at home. In Melbourne.
Never mind, I've ridden in worse before. Who needs wet weather gear when its barely raining?
I get to the apartment and it's cold. I dig into my suitcase for some warm clothes, specifically a tracksuit and remember - that's at home too. In Melbourne. Fortunately I am staying next to Cairns' answer to Chadstone so a quick 20min later and I've stocked up on some Melbourne-appropriate gear (while silently thinking this is CRAZY that I'm wearing jumpers in Cairns....anyone who doesn't believe in global warming, please, come and take a look at the tropical north these days).
Up early this morning for an easy 90min ride. I had no idea where to ride as we were told not to ride on the Captain Cook Highway until race day (and I accidentally learnt why this is so when I ended up on said highway with semis roaring past. Got it). So I rode around following bike lanes until I found a decent run along a road parallel to the Highway. It seems others have found their way to this road as I was joined by a kiwi guy for part of the way who was doing his 2nd IM after surviving (I think that's an appropriate term, given the weather on that day) Ironman New Zealand 2011. Any concerns I had about the mild rain and wind in Cairns were kept to myself.
It was during the ride that I realised my gears were not shifting properly. I couldn't get them right so I thought, never mind, there's a stack of bike shops around. I'll just pull into one near my apartment and get them to look at it.
Which I did, and they did and the gear problem was sorted quickly. The source of the gear problem, however, was a suspected worn chain which the mechanic informed me "should" last the race.
"Should" is not "will" and in my line of work is the sort of language we use when either (a) we know exactly what the right decision is but are trying to guide another person to make that decision; or (b) we are not sure what the answer is so are trying to protect ourselves by indicating that there is room for more than one possible outcome.
Either of these circumstances was not going to fly for me. "Should" had to be turned into "will" immediately. However, for this to happen, I was informed I would also need a new cassette. I'm not sure if that was a "should" get a new cassette or I "will" need a new cassette. In any event, by this stage I just wanted to get this shit sorted so I told them to do whatever needed to be done (which I suppose in mechanic terms is the equivalent to throwing your credit card behind the bar).
I didn't care if I was being taken for a ride or not; as a fellow Queenslander, generally we are an honest bunch and with 2 major races in 3 days time, their workshop booked out and people coming in and out looking for help, I don't think they were in any need of extra work taking up their day.
These guys could not have been friendlier and more helpful; I hung out in the shop for an hour (in full kit, helmet still on like a loser) and chatted away to them, their Specialized rep and had a great morning (dint in the credit card aside). Made me remember how friendly and open people up here are; down to earth and aways up for a chat. So to the guys at Pump 'N' Pedals, thank you for helping out this Melbourne girl today at the last minute.
After this little detour to my planned morning, I went down to the Esplanade to check out the race start and see how things were looking. The water was in a sorry state and I can only hope it improves by Sunday:
Transition was taking shape and that's when I started to feel excited:
But the thing that really got me buzzed was seeing the finishing line arch. I honestly cannot wait to cross that line on Sunday; the culmination of 7 solid months of training towards that one goal:
Forecast is for a max of 28 degrees, 8km/hr S, 80+% humidity and late showers. If that eventuates, it will be perfect tropical weather for a race. Fingers crossed!
Control
This is the final training weekend before 70.3 Cairns and what an absolute crapper of a forecast. Cold, wet, windy. The trifecta of training hell served up by Melbourne. But I'm not letting this get me down because I've trained through this junk for months, it's one more weekend and then I'm out. Off back to my home state, ready to take on this race that has been such a big focus (and goal) for me for so long now.
A lot of people have been asking me how I'm feeling about racing; am I nervous/excited/stressed/anxious. Am I worried about what could happen with flats, nutrition or heat. An equal number of people (admittedly most from work) stare at me like I've actually lost my mind when I explain what the race entails and simply ask various forms of "why on earth are you putting yourself through THAT?"
I've blogged and thought about these questions before......why people do Ironman, half ironman, triathlon....but oddly for me the answer (for myself) came out of the blue.
I'm not nervous. I'm not stressed. I'm strangely calm. And it's because, for the first time in what I think my adult life, I am putting myself into a situation where the mind is willing, the training's been done but there are absolutely no guarantees that the hard work will translate into a good result. And this is bizarrely compelling to me.
For me, I've gone about my life often with clear goals in mind and a very focused vision and method as to how those goals will be achieved. Largely this entailed hard work, sacrifice, dedication and a relentlessness that comes from wanting something badly. Professionally, this attitude has paid dues and I have always been a firm believer that you need to work hard to have any opportunity of achieving or controlling the outcome you want.
And its really that word. Control. There are many areas in life that we can control, and equally there are those that we can't. I think many people like to invest heavily in the areas that are capable of being controlled because then you're guaranteed the outcome you'd like...and a life that is well within your comfort zone. It's less attractive (at times) to leave things up to fate, luck or any other process to determine a life path.
I'm honest about the fact that the last 10 years of my life has been heavily focused on my job, building a career and being dedicated to investing in this aspect of my life. This process, and the outcome, is so significantly in my control that the investment almost (and I stress, almost) guarantees the result.
For me, there is a thrill in making that investment, working really hard....but then losing some of that control in the moment of truth. This race, the process of working towards a half ironman, has allowed me to explore this side of myself; the part that is only capable of being partially controlled. The rest - well, that's up to my body and how pleasant it decides to be on race day (as well as a multitude of other variables that, you guessed it, are out of my control).
Call it a calculated gamble with the odds on my side. But come race day, the thing I am most excited about is seeing just which way these cards are dealt.
A lot of people have been asking me how I'm feeling about racing; am I nervous/excited/stressed/anxious. Am I worried about what could happen with flats, nutrition or heat. An equal number of people (admittedly most from work) stare at me like I've actually lost my mind when I explain what the race entails and simply ask various forms of "why on earth are you putting yourself through THAT?"
I've blogged and thought about these questions before......why people do Ironman, half ironman, triathlon....but oddly for me the answer (for myself) came out of the blue.
I'm not nervous. I'm not stressed. I'm strangely calm. And it's because, for the first time in what I think my adult life, I am putting myself into a situation where the mind is willing, the training's been done but there are absolutely no guarantees that the hard work will translate into a good result. And this is bizarrely compelling to me.
For me, I've gone about my life often with clear goals in mind and a very focused vision and method as to how those goals will be achieved. Largely this entailed hard work, sacrifice, dedication and a relentlessness that comes from wanting something badly. Professionally, this attitude has paid dues and I have always been a firm believer that you need to work hard to have any opportunity of achieving or controlling the outcome you want.
And its really that word. Control. There are many areas in life that we can control, and equally there are those that we can't. I think many people like to invest heavily in the areas that are capable of being controlled because then you're guaranteed the outcome you'd like...and a life that is well within your comfort zone. It's less attractive (at times) to leave things up to fate, luck or any other process to determine a life path.
I'm honest about the fact that the last 10 years of my life has been heavily focused on my job, building a career and being dedicated to investing in this aspect of my life. This process, and the outcome, is so significantly in my control that the investment almost (and I stress, almost) guarantees the result.
For me, there is a thrill in making that investment, working really hard....but then losing some of that control in the moment of truth. This race, the process of working towards a half ironman, has allowed me to explore this side of myself; the part that is only capable of being partially controlled. The rest - well, that's up to my body and how pleasant it decides to be on race day (as well as a multitude of other variables that, you guessed it, are out of my control).
Call it a calculated gamble with the odds on my side. But come race day, the thing I am most excited about is seeing just which way these cards are dealt.
It's nearly time
So....here we are. 10 training days left and 16 days until I race in my first half ironman. 2 years and 3 months since the day I decided that I'd race a half, after watching and Ironman and thinking "pfftt can't be that hard" (umm...right) I'll be floating around with a bunch of other crazies at 6:45am in a mass start in Cairns.
How am I feeling. Well, pretty good. Training's picked up and has gone really well. Unfortunately work has hit a manic patch so there's been a run of long, stressful days which hasn't been ideal but work always takes priority so have fitted sessions around the hours most of the time. My running's strong, bike is solid and my swim - it's fine. I think swimming is one of those disciplines where you could always do more, but the return on investment isn't as pronounced (for me anyway) then the time I could spend running.
I've started some heat work this week, which has been a bit of a shock to the system but in a good way. I'm a big fan of doing things to help build race confidence and this is one piece of training that will definitely help in this area. I have a bit of a mental block about racing in hot climates; I had a really rough race last year in Noosa for a bunch of reasons (only one really being heat) and I think it's scarred me a little bit. Anything that helps to distance that experience from front of mind is a good thing.
A couple of weeks ago, I picked up my race suit (all about the outfit! ) from XOSIZE here in Victoria. Given the warm climate, I decided to hunt down a light coloured suit and fortunately Rocket Science Sport makes are terrific 20BPM race suit in white and red in a super stylish design. I snapped that gem up and have given it a run during a couple of mag trainer heat sessions to test it out. I have to say, it is terrific. I have never been able to find a tri suit that I could legitimately say is comfortable; the chamois was either useless and made the ride uncomfortable, the stitching rubbed in the wrong spots, it cut under my arms or in other bad spots. But so far, I can't fault this suit. And the chamois is great - big tick for me (if you're keen to pick up this suit, or any other products from XOSIZE, they've got a great online shop and use the code 'XOSIZE' for 10% off)
I've got a solid weekend ahead of me - big run, bike bike and some more heat sessions. I'm really getting buzzed about the whole experience. I can't believe the opportunity to race is nearly here and I feel so lucky that my cards have been dealt this way and I get to experience my first half ironman in Cairns - it feels oddly right to race in my home state, like somehow the journey has brought me full circle. And having my parents there means so much to me; I don't get to see them often and I'm so happy they'll have the chance to see me race, and see the "tri world" that I talk so much about.
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| See you soon Cairns!! |
It's not just about the race
I love race weekends. I don't have to be racing, spectating or even in the same state as the race; there's something about knowing there's a major race on, that people I know are stepping up and going out to achieve a personal goal, that makes me excited. More then that, it makes my motivation peak all over again.
This weekend was the bookends of 70.3 Busso and IM Australia. A little bittersweet for me as Busso was to be my first HIM, but alas was not to be. It was awesome tracking the event online, keeping tabs on the couple of people I knew racing and hearing the feedback from the day.
A little closer to home was IM Australia today in Port Macquarie. The more I get involved with this sport, the more exposed I become to people's journeys and the more I pay attention to Ironman, the more I realise one thing - it's not just about the race. People may think it's about the race, turn up and cheer about the race and all the preparation is for the race - but the process that is being an ironman triathlete, what it means to race ironman, is not just about the race. Don't get me wrong, the race is the cream on top - it's the outcome for all the hard work. But the race is just the baby; what most people (other than those who live with you) don't see is the hard work, sacrifices, injuries, tears, financial and social sacrifices and strain that leads into that one day - let's call them the labour pains.
Being a long course athlete is about the long days, the early starts, the constant repetitive groundhog day that you spin in for 6-12 months before carefully carving all that work into a perfectly tapered package for race day. It's common to hear people say "I can't believe you do this sport (referring to HIM or IM racing)" after watching one of the races. And it's true, the race itself is an impressive display of human athleticism. But it isn't the race that makes the athlete impressive. It's the dedication, the commitment, the love that the athlete must have to agree to sign up for an event - 12 months out - and then proceed to make many sacrifices non-triathletes would baulk at for a solid 12 months in order to execute a performance for 1 day only. That's 12 months of work, sacrifices and pain for 1 day.
When was the last time you made a year's worth of sacrifices for the opportunity to achieve something for 1 day only? It's pretty crazy when you break it down. Take your job for example - you might work hard for 6 months for a promotion and, if you're lucky, you get promoted. Not for one day, not for 9 hours, but from that point forward. The hard work paid off. Now think about ironman athletes. They work hard like that, for an outcome that is also as important. But they only get that "promotion" for a matter of hours before they go back to real life.
So what is it that drives so many to go on the ironman journey? To endure months and months of labour, to then subject yourself to hours and hours of pain, for fleeting seconds of joy as you cross the line?
There's a million answers to that question. But I think there is one underlying reason that plays a part for everyone - to prove you can. The biggest demographic of ironman entrants is between the age of 30-45, predominantly male. You may have noticed that triathlon is an expensive tipple and Ironman is top shelf - a race entry will set you back close to $800-$900. So not only do you have to be fit, but you also need to be reasonably cashed up. So many of these 'typical majority' will be mid-career, achieved certain milestones and goals, likely to have met the better half, possibly married and maybe with child. Life's looking pretty comfortable. And with comfort comes complacency. And for competitive minded, ambitious types complacency is a dirty word. Complacency can equal laziness and no-one wants to be saddled with that old chestnut. These types want a challenge.
So the search commences. Anyone who owns a tie and works in an office has no doubt heard of or been roped into a corporate triathlon over the years so perhaps this is some people's foot in the door; others may have grown up with the Wide World of Sports and seen Ironman on TV. Heck, maybe its a Google search for "hardest sport in the world". Who knows. But its a common desire of some sort that is bringing these people together, to make these sacrifices, to punish their bodies and their minds for a few seconds of glory.
Cause their friends do it. To beat their best mate. To silence the internal voice that says they can't. To show their children that anything is possible. Crazy? Sort of. Addictive? Absolutely. Tell me you don't want to do one
This weekend was the bookends of 70.3 Busso and IM Australia. A little bittersweet for me as Busso was to be my first HIM, but alas was not to be. It was awesome tracking the event online, keeping tabs on the couple of people I knew racing and hearing the feedback from the day.
A little closer to home was IM Australia today in Port Macquarie. The more I get involved with this sport, the more exposed I become to people's journeys and the more I pay attention to Ironman, the more I realise one thing - it's not just about the race. People may think it's about the race, turn up and cheer about the race and all the preparation is for the race - but the process that is being an ironman triathlete, what it means to race ironman, is not just about the race. Don't get me wrong, the race is the cream on top - it's the outcome for all the hard work. But the race is just the baby; what most people (other than those who live with you) don't see is the hard work, sacrifices, injuries, tears, financial and social sacrifices and strain that leads into that one day - let's call them the labour pains.
Being a long course athlete is about the long days, the early starts, the constant repetitive groundhog day that you spin in for 6-12 months before carefully carving all that work into a perfectly tapered package for race day. It's common to hear people say "I can't believe you do this sport (referring to HIM or IM racing)" after watching one of the races. And it's true, the race itself is an impressive display of human athleticism. But it isn't the race that makes the athlete impressive. It's the dedication, the commitment, the love that the athlete must have to agree to sign up for an event - 12 months out - and then proceed to make many sacrifices non-triathletes would baulk at for a solid 12 months in order to execute a performance for 1 day only. That's 12 months of work, sacrifices and pain for 1 day.
When was the last time you made a year's worth of sacrifices for the opportunity to achieve something for 1 day only? It's pretty crazy when you break it down. Take your job for example - you might work hard for 6 months for a promotion and, if you're lucky, you get promoted. Not for one day, not for 9 hours, but from that point forward. The hard work paid off. Now think about ironman athletes. They work hard like that, for an outcome that is also as important. But they only get that "promotion" for a matter of hours before they go back to real life.
So what is it that drives so many to go on the ironman journey? To endure months and months of labour, to then subject yourself to hours and hours of pain, for fleeting seconds of joy as you cross the line?
There's a million answers to that question. But I think there is one underlying reason that plays a part for everyone - to prove you can. The biggest demographic of ironman entrants is between the age of 30-45, predominantly male. You may have noticed that triathlon is an expensive tipple and Ironman is top shelf - a race entry will set you back close to $800-$900. So not only do you have to be fit, but you also need to be reasonably cashed up. So many of these 'typical majority' will be mid-career, achieved certain milestones and goals, likely to have met the better half, possibly married and maybe with child. Life's looking pretty comfortable. And with comfort comes complacency. And for competitive minded, ambitious types complacency is a dirty word. Complacency can equal laziness and no-one wants to be saddled with that old chestnut. These types want a challenge.
So the search commences. Anyone who owns a tie and works in an office has no doubt heard of or been roped into a corporate triathlon over the years so perhaps this is some people's foot in the door; others may have grown up with the Wide World of Sports and seen Ironman on TV. Heck, maybe its a Google search for "hardest sport in the world". Who knows. But its a common desire of some sort that is bringing these people together, to make these sacrifices, to punish their bodies and their minds for a few seconds of glory.
Cause their friends do it. To beat their best mate. To silence the internal voice that says they can't. To show their children that anything is possible. Crazy? Sort of. Addictive? Absolutely. Tell me you don't want to do one
Do you remember your first time?
It's a touch under 5 weeks till my newly-rescheduled race day and I feel comfortable in finally making this bold statement.
I'm getting my shit together.
That's right, I have had a stern word to myself, pumped my own tyres up and Google imaged every positive, motivational affirmation I could find. After being sick for a couple of weeks, as much as anyone desperately hates being sick and wants to train, the reality is getting back into training is not that straightforward. All the old excuses are still there, ready to roll out whenever you can't be bothered/it's too cold/you're too tired/you are having a sook/cracking the sads/want to eat chocolate on the couch.
The main reason for gathering said shit is that my first time is coming up and I want it to go well. I don't want to leave anything to chance, I want to prepare myself as best as I can and know that when I'm treading water at the swim start, FREAKING OUT BECAUSE I'M DOING A HALF IRONMAN that there's no reason to freak out, the work's been done, the body and the mind is ready and it's a matter of executing the race plan.
Being my first time, I (like anyone else) have questions. With the recent change in race (from a flat, relatively cool location to an undulating, hot humid one) the most obvious question to myself is "can I perform in the heat and humidity". Answer - not entirely certain. I hope so; I'm doing what I can to prepare my body for it, but the reality is that training in Melbourne and racing in Cairns will give the body a shock. But simple things like nutrition, a good race suit (black not being a sensible option!), hydration and heat acclimation in the weeks leading in will help.
Next question to myself - I've been training to race a flat course; will the change to an undulating/hilly one matter? Answer - I'm pretty confident it won't. I've done a good chunk of hill rides and work mixed into my prep and while I'm not the strongest hill rider, I'm good enough to get through. Besides, what goes up must come down :)
I think every first timer must think about these next questions, regardless of what course they're racing:
* Just how hard is this race going to be?
* Should I have a goal time in mind or just be happy to finish?
* Can I run a half marathon off the bike? And if I can run it, can I run it well?
* What does racing for ~5 hours feel like? (some may say 'hell')
* What do I do if I mess up my nutrition/vomit it up/drop or lose something on the bike? How do I protect myself from the bonk?
* Is it really worse to stop running for a moment then to push through?
* How much is it going to hurt?
I can't help but think that long course racing has some similarities to childbirth and binge drinking (work with me here). Both result in the individual experiencing varying levels of pain that they swear is excruciating (I've never given birth, but given I am female, I am fairly comfortable with assuming that childbirth is the worst pain a woman can experience; binge drinking often results in a chronic hangover that leaves one moaning that they are 'never drinking again' as the effects are so brutal). Yet, with time, the pain of both events subside and only happy memories remain - a beautiful baby or memory of 'a great night out' - such that the individual is more then happy to do it all again.
So, given that half ironman and ironman involves individuals punishing themselves with three different sports for anywhere between 4-17 hours, in heat/cold/wind/rain, one can safely assume that a great deal of pain and suffering will accompany that experience. Yet, these same people will sign up to race that same distance again....and again....and again.....even after swearing "I'm never doing it ever again".
Circling back to my first timer question of "how much is this going to hurt?" - assume a fair bit. Don't believe what an experienced racer tells you as they will now have their blissful, post-race-faded-pain memories (like mothers who try to tell you giving birth isn't that bad) and will instead tell you that they recall it being hard but that it as "worth it" (or something equally as vague).
My suggestion (as a first timer) - assume the worst. It'll hurt. You'll hate some of it, question why you're doing it, what an insane sport this is, maybe cry, perhaps vomit. You'll look mortifyingly unattractive. You will smell like a toilet and a dirty washing basket and look like you slept in a gutter. There may be blood. If you can accept all of this, and be comfortable with it, race day will exceed all your expectations.
I'm getting my shit together.
That's right, I have had a stern word to myself, pumped my own tyres up and Google imaged every positive, motivational affirmation I could find. After being sick for a couple of weeks, as much as anyone desperately hates being sick and wants to train, the reality is getting back into training is not that straightforward. All the old excuses are still there, ready to roll out whenever you can't be bothered/it's too cold/you're too tired/you are having a sook/cracking the sads/want to eat chocolate on the couch.
The main reason for gathering said shit is that my first time is coming up and I want it to go well. I don't want to leave anything to chance, I want to prepare myself as best as I can and know that when I'm treading water at the swim start, FREAKING OUT BECAUSE I'M DOING A HALF IRONMAN that there's no reason to freak out, the work's been done, the body and the mind is ready and it's a matter of executing the race plan.
Being my first time, I (like anyone else) have questions. With the recent change in race (from a flat, relatively cool location to an undulating, hot humid one) the most obvious question to myself is "can I perform in the heat and humidity". Answer - not entirely certain. I hope so; I'm doing what I can to prepare my body for it, but the reality is that training in Melbourne and racing in Cairns will give the body a shock. But simple things like nutrition, a good race suit (black not being a sensible option!), hydration and heat acclimation in the weeks leading in will help.
Next question to myself - I've been training to race a flat course; will the change to an undulating/hilly one matter? Answer - I'm pretty confident it won't. I've done a good chunk of hill rides and work mixed into my prep and while I'm not the strongest hill rider, I'm good enough to get through. Besides, what goes up must come down :)
I think every first timer must think about these next questions, regardless of what course they're racing:
* Just how hard is this race going to be?
* Should I have a goal time in mind or just be happy to finish?
* Can I run a half marathon off the bike? And if I can run it, can I run it well?
* What does racing for ~5 hours feel like? (some may say 'hell')
* What do I do if I mess up my nutrition/vomit it up/drop or lose something on the bike? How do I protect myself from the bonk?
* Is it really worse to stop running for a moment then to push through?
* How much is it going to hurt?
I can't help but think that long course racing has some similarities to childbirth and binge drinking (work with me here). Both result in the individual experiencing varying levels of pain that they swear is excruciating (I've never given birth, but given I am female, I am fairly comfortable with assuming that childbirth is the worst pain a woman can experience; binge drinking often results in a chronic hangover that leaves one moaning that they are 'never drinking again' as the effects are so brutal). Yet, with time, the pain of both events subside and only happy memories remain - a beautiful baby or memory of 'a great night out' - such that the individual is more then happy to do it all again.
So, given that half ironman and ironman involves individuals punishing themselves with three different sports for anywhere between 4-17 hours, in heat/cold/wind/rain, one can safely assume that a great deal of pain and suffering will accompany that experience. Yet, these same people will sign up to race that same distance again....and again....and again.....even after swearing "I'm never doing it ever again".
Circling back to my first timer question of "how much is this going to hurt?" - assume a fair bit. Don't believe what an experienced racer tells you as they will now have their blissful, post-race-faded-pain memories (like mothers who try to tell you giving birth isn't that bad) and will instead tell you that they recall it being hard but that it as "worth it" (or something equally as vague).
My suggestion (as a first timer) - assume the worst. It'll hurt. You'll hate some of it, question why you're doing it, what an insane sport this is, maybe cry, perhaps vomit. You'll look mortifyingly unattractive. You will smell like a toilet and a dirty washing basket and look like you slept in a gutter. There may be blood. If you can accept all of this, and be comfortable with it, race day will exceed all your expectations.
Making a return
I've written a lot lately about the patience required to rehabilitate your body when sickness or injury occurs. I've found that athletes are generally goal orientated people and can be impatient, wanting to see improvements quickly, run faster, be stronger - learning the art of patience can be difficult and frustrating at times, leading to stress and a cycle where small gains in health or fitness are made, only to be compensated by bigger losses overall with prolonged recovery periods, ongoing illness or lingering fatigue.
When the time comes to return to training, patience is also needed - together with a good dose of reality. The return to training will be varied - from a mild discomfort to all out ugly, depending on how long you were sidelined resting and recovering. It can be tempting to throw the toys out of the pram and madly try to make up "all the time lost" while you were sick or injured to get back to where you were at as quickly as possible.
I'm not a doctor, or a coach or qualified in any respect to talk about returning to sport from illness or injury. But I have been on this journey a couple of times now and learnt a few lessons the hard way about how these things need to be approached and some of the thoughts that can crowd your mind in the process:
Everyone's been training so much while I've been off sick/injured. They will be so much better then me on race day.
Crap. Based on what? Because they happened to be able to swim, bike and run to their programs (whatever they happen to be) while you were recovering? Were you absolute equals before that? Were you going to be absolute equals after that? Who's to say they haven't had troubles of their own? Worrying about what others have been doing while you have been off is a pointless exercise based on nothing but ego. It doesn't help get you back into form, it doesn't help motivate or encourage you and it will only succeed in building a big lie in your head about how you're not good enough. Move on.
I've lost so much time, I need to catch up and do more sessions/longer sessions/harder sessions now to make up
Once time has passed, it's passed. You can never do enough training to recover 2 days, 2 weeks, 2 months or whatever time you have needed off to recover. Thinking that you are some kind of superhero and can train to make up that time is just going to make you sick and injured all over again. I know because I made that mistake stupidly thinking I was invincible. Be sensible
All the training before I got sick/injured is going to be lost. I'm going to be starting at square one again
I listed this because, I admit, I was initially filled with panicked thoughts about this very thing. So, again I am not qualified in any way about what the body does. But I am a lawyer and with that training comes the ability to think things through objectively and with a degree of common sense. Common sense tells me that if you have been training consistently for, say, 12 months but then got sick/injured for a few weeks and couldn't do much (or anything), then it would be some kind of freak biological miracle if your body somehow spontaneously combusted all the good muscle fibres you'd built, the aerobic and endurance capacity of your heart and lungs suddenly shrunk and your legs forgot how to turn pedals.
Let's get real. Sure, there will be a decline around the edges of where you were at (and I was told this, and what do you know, it's true)....but if you were training for an extended period before injury or illness, chances are you've developed one of those "bases" all the qualified people talk about and this will be there when you go to run or ride again. The first few goes might be a bit rough, but you'll polish things up quicker then you think. After 3.5weeks of sickness, I went for a 30min run on Thursday and rode 90min today. I wasn't making magic happened, I felt tired at the end of both (to be expected) but the main thing was that I could see the fitness was still there. There was still strength lying dormant despite the weeks of antibiotics, rest and fatigue. Have faith.
I'm going to be sick/injured FOR-EVER. I hate triathlon
No you won't. And no you don't. You got sick/injured for a reason. While you're (patiently) recovering, take a good hard look at why that might be. Were you doing too much? Training at a high intensity too often? Not getting enough recovery? Racing too often? Ignoring niggles that should have been looked at? At work, I'm often called into meetings to discuss the "root cause" of problems. The same logic should be applied to sickness and injury. If you can determine the root cause, implement a fix and test it, chances are it might not happen again.
I'm back training but still feeling so tired/sore. I'm never going to get over this.
Lies. Yes you will, but it will take some time and this will be different for everyone.
I was doing a bit of reading today and came across this simple piece written for the Australian Sports Commission (http://www.ausport.gov.au/sportscoachmag/program_management2/how_to_manage_the_return_to_training_after_illness). There's nothing groundbreaking here, but it did help remind me that illness and injury happens to everyone. And we all get through it.
The main thing I've learnt is giving your body the time it needs to recover - it will spit in your face if you try and push it too hard too early. Maybe not straight away - but karma always bites when you least expect it and, probably, when you need your body to be on your side the most.
For me, I am adopting the conservative, ease-back-into-it approach. Although the first 2 sessions have left me a bit tired, what they did do was show me that my fitness and training was still there...just buried under the drugs, Lemsip, ginger tea and chocolate that's been eaten over the last few weeks. The next session will never be as bad/ugly/tiring as the last, so it's onwards and upwards from here.
When the time comes to return to training, patience is also needed - together with a good dose of reality. The return to training will be varied - from a mild discomfort to all out ugly, depending on how long you were sidelined resting and recovering. It can be tempting to throw the toys out of the pram and madly try to make up "all the time lost" while you were sick or injured to get back to where you were at as quickly as possible.
I'm not a doctor, or a coach or qualified in any respect to talk about returning to sport from illness or injury. But I have been on this journey a couple of times now and learnt a few lessons the hard way about how these things need to be approached and some of the thoughts that can crowd your mind in the process:
Everyone's been training so much while I've been off sick/injured. They will be so much better then me on race day.
Crap. Based on what? Because they happened to be able to swim, bike and run to their programs (whatever they happen to be) while you were recovering? Were you absolute equals before that? Were you going to be absolute equals after that? Who's to say they haven't had troubles of their own? Worrying about what others have been doing while you have been off is a pointless exercise based on nothing but ego. It doesn't help get you back into form, it doesn't help motivate or encourage you and it will only succeed in building a big lie in your head about how you're not good enough. Move on.
I've lost so much time, I need to catch up and do more sessions/longer sessions/harder sessions now to make up
Once time has passed, it's passed. You can never do enough training to recover 2 days, 2 weeks, 2 months or whatever time you have needed off to recover. Thinking that you are some kind of superhero and can train to make up that time is just going to make you sick and injured all over again. I know because I made that mistake stupidly thinking I was invincible. Be sensible
All the training before I got sick/injured is going to be lost. I'm going to be starting at square one again
I listed this because, I admit, I was initially filled with panicked thoughts about this very thing. So, again I am not qualified in any way about what the body does. But I am a lawyer and with that training comes the ability to think things through objectively and with a degree of common sense. Common sense tells me that if you have been training consistently for, say, 12 months but then got sick/injured for a few weeks and couldn't do much (or anything), then it would be some kind of freak biological miracle if your body somehow spontaneously combusted all the good muscle fibres you'd built, the aerobic and endurance capacity of your heart and lungs suddenly shrunk and your legs forgot how to turn pedals.
Let's get real. Sure, there will be a decline around the edges of where you were at (and I was told this, and what do you know, it's true)....but if you were training for an extended period before injury or illness, chances are you've developed one of those "bases" all the qualified people talk about and this will be there when you go to run or ride again. The first few goes might be a bit rough, but you'll polish things up quicker then you think. After 3.5weeks of sickness, I went for a 30min run on Thursday and rode 90min today. I wasn't making magic happened, I felt tired at the end of both (to be expected) but the main thing was that I could see the fitness was still there. There was still strength lying dormant despite the weeks of antibiotics, rest and fatigue. Have faith.
I'm going to be sick/injured FOR-EVER. I hate triathlon
No you won't. And no you don't. You got sick/injured for a reason. While you're (patiently) recovering, take a good hard look at why that might be. Were you doing too much? Training at a high intensity too often? Not getting enough recovery? Racing too often? Ignoring niggles that should have been looked at? At work, I'm often called into meetings to discuss the "root cause" of problems. The same logic should be applied to sickness and injury. If you can determine the root cause, implement a fix and test it, chances are it might not happen again.
I'm back training but still feeling so tired/sore. I'm never going to get over this.
Lies. Yes you will, but it will take some time and this will be different for everyone.
I was doing a bit of reading today and came across this simple piece written for the Australian Sports Commission (http://www.ausport.gov.au/sportscoachmag/program_management2/how_to_manage_the_return_to_training_after_illness). There's nothing groundbreaking here, but it did help remind me that illness and injury happens to everyone. And we all get through it.
The main thing I've learnt is giving your body the time it needs to recover - it will spit in your face if you try and push it too hard too early. Maybe not straight away - but karma always bites when you least expect it and, probably, when you need your body to be on your side the most.
For me, I am adopting the conservative, ease-back-into-it approach. Although the first 2 sessions have left me a bit tired, what they did do was show me that my fitness and training was still there...just buried under the drugs, Lemsip, ginger tea and chocolate that's been eaten over the last few weeks. The next session will never be as bad/ugly/tiring as the last, so it's onwards and upwards from here.
What inspires you?
It's something to ask yourself everyday. I know so many people who wake up, each day, uninspired by what they do. I'm not suggesting we are all supposed to clap our hands with glee at the thought of going to work (let's get real). But within everything we do, regardless of the passion we have for it, there must be something in there that we find inspiring or a reason that inspires us to continue doing what we do.
I found this picture last night. This is Lucy and she has Downs Syndrome. According to the Downs Syndrome Association of NSW, Lucy loves triathlon and has competed in the last two Triathlon Pink events. What I love about sport is that it has no barriers. Sport is free, there are no conditions, just a love and a passion of whatever it is that you choose to play.
I love that sport is so accessible to the physically and intellectually disabled. I love watching the footage from the Hawaiian Ironman of those athletes with missing limbs, getting out there and absolutely smoking the course. If you think playing sport is hard, try training and racing with one leg. Or an intellectual disability, overcoming all the prejudices that life already throws at you.
Knowing that there are triathlon events out there, openly accommodating people like Lucy, makes me proud to be involved in this sport. We (as in, abled body and mind athletes) may progress past the enticer distances or Active Feet, but these events play such an important part in the triathlon fabric and one that can be overlooked is allowing people like Lucy to participate.
This is particularly inspiring for me as my brother also has Downs Syndrome and loves sport. He loves basketball and the gym. The smile on his face when he plays is something else, it brings him so much joy. He can't ride a bike so will never get to experience triathlon, so when I race or train, it's partly for him too.
My love for this sport extends to all those people who will never get to experience it but get out there everyday. against a whole range of other adversities, and participate. Life is only hard if we make it that way, and remembering people like Lucy and my brother is what keeps me inspired to work towards my goals - because there are so many people out there that are not given the opportunities we have and we are kidding ourselves if we think that we have it tough.
The right decisions are often the hardest
I've titled this blog in this way because I believe it to be true. In any situation of conflict or uncertainty, I believe that we instinctively know what is the right decision to make but sometimes (or generally) we resist making it. Our gut tells us it's right, our mind may agree - but our heart may be holding on to a goal, a dream or a hope of something that is slowly becoming an unreality such that is becomes the hardest, rather than the easiest, decision to make.
Those of you who read this blog regularly know that I have been training for 70.3 Busselton on 5 May 2012. And training with commitment, excitement, consistency and enthusiasm as I wanted to give this race everything, toe the line knowing I gave it my absolute best shot and that my result would be reflective of that.
Unfortunately, there are uncontrollables in life that you can't train or prepare for. Injury. Illness. These things can derail your plans, throw your momentum off course and deaden your body for an unknown period of time.
For the past 3 weeks, this has been me. I have tried hard to tackle each illness as it comes, remain positive, rest, see doctors. But sometimes, it just isn't going to come together. Melbourne has had an unfortunate change of season which has sent illness through the roof, I work in an environment where people bring a lot of illness into the office, so my already compromised immune system has little hope.
What started with a cold and a hacking dry cough (1 week off training) turned into bronchitis and a chest infection (another 4 days off training) with a diagnoses of a virus you get before pneumonia. One week of antibiotics and I was warned to be careful and avoid as best as possible getting ill again as the next sickness could be pneumonia or worse. I started training again for a few days, feeling good, but quickly developed tonsillitis (10 days of antibiotics) and a deep fatigue in my body. Aching bones and tiredness which I feel as I write this post.
During this time, I also developed plantar fasciitis in my left foot. PF is a painful inflammation of the plantar fascia, the connective tissue on the sole of the foot. It can be caused by overuse of the plantar fascia or arch tendon of the foot or a range of other reasons (unsupportive footwear, weak supporting muscles etc). Fortunately, I got onto this quickly as it can turn into a nasty ongoing injury but it still took me out of consistent running training for a few weeks on top of it.
In life, there comes a point where you have to get real. Take a good hard look at the facts and consider your options. The reality is I am not well. I am not going to be well for at least another 7-10 days and that is only if I rest heavily, take time off and do not train. To do so, and still race Busso, would mean over 1 month of patchy or non-existant training at best, an untested foot injury over my longest distance and racing a body weakened by multiple viruses and antibiotics. Not smart.
So yesterday I made the right decision and withdrew from the race. A very hard decision but one that I knew had to be made.
Fortunately, this cloud has a silver lining and I decided to move all my plans back a month and race 70.3 Cairns on 3 June 2012. I'm hoping the extra 4 or so weeks buys me the much needed rest time to heal my body, start back into training and hopefully bring myself back into the form I was showing 4 weeks ago. Cairns is a different course and climate to Busso which is a challenge to adapt to at this late stage. But I have gotten my head around this decision and now am 100% focused on this event.
Like the note above, now it is all about being patient with my body, respecting the time it needs to repair and stay positive on the change and the newly (revised) race plan of Cairns.
Not a bad picture to keep the motivation high!
Those of you who read this blog regularly know that I have been training for 70.3 Busselton on 5 May 2012. And training with commitment, excitement, consistency and enthusiasm as I wanted to give this race everything, toe the line knowing I gave it my absolute best shot and that my result would be reflective of that.
Unfortunately, there are uncontrollables in life that you can't train or prepare for. Injury. Illness. These things can derail your plans, throw your momentum off course and deaden your body for an unknown period of time.
For the past 3 weeks, this has been me. I have tried hard to tackle each illness as it comes, remain positive, rest, see doctors. But sometimes, it just isn't going to come together. Melbourne has had an unfortunate change of season which has sent illness through the roof, I work in an environment where people bring a lot of illness into the office, so my already compromised immune system has little hope.
What started with a cold and a hacking dry cough (1 week off training) turned into bronchitis and a chest infection (another 4 days off training) with a diagnoses of a virus you get before pneumonia. One week of antibiotics and I was warned to be careful and avoid as best as possible getting ill again as the next sickness could be pneumonia or worse. I started training again for a few days, feeling good, but quickly developed tonsillitis (10 days of antibiotics) and a deep fatigue in my body. Aching bones and tiredness which I feel as I write this post.
During this time, I also developed plantar fasciitis in my left foot. PF is a painful inflammation of the plantar fascia, the connective tissue on the sole of the foot. It can be caused by overuse of the plantar fascia or arch tendon of the foot or a range of other reasons (unsupportive footwear, weak supporting muscles etc). Fortunately, I got onto this quickly as it can turn into a nasty ongoing injury but it still took me out of consistent running training for a few weeks on top of it.
In life, there comes a point where you have to get real. Take a good hard look at the facts and consider your options. The reality is I am not well. I am not going to be well for at least another 7-10 days and that is only if I rest heavily, take time off and do not train. To do so, and still race Busso, would mean over 1 month of patchy or non-existant training at best, an untested foot injury over my longest distance and racing a body weakened by multiple viruses and antibiotics. Not smart.
So yesterday I made the right decision and withdrew from the race. A very hard decision but one that I knew had to be made.
Fortunately, this cloud has a silver lining and I decided to move all my plans back a month and race 70.3 Cairns on 3 June 2012. I'm hoping the extra 4 or so weeks buys me the much needed rest time to heal my body, start back into training and hopefully bring myself back into the form I was showing 4 weeks ago. Cairns is a different course and climate to Busso which is a challenge to adapt to at this late stage. But I have gotten my head around this decision and now am 100% focused on this event.
Like the note above, now it is all about being patient with my body, respecting the time it needs to repair and stay positive on the change and the newly (revised) race plan of Cairns.
Not a bad picture to keep the motivation high!
Consistency - the athlete's insurance policy
It's now officially less than 4 weeks until race day. Numbers have been released and I've been given number 843. I'm someone who has this thing about race numbers - as soon as I get one, I get a 'feel' for the number. My Noosa number - ok. Geelong number - awful. Xavier's Ironman Melbourne number - fantastic. Strangely, each of these 'feelings' have translated 100% of the time into the race result. So let's call me the triathlon number whisperer.
So, on reading 843, my initial feeling was "Great. Strong". Honestly. I had no basis for those thoughts, I didn't force them, it was just the first sense I got that was connected to those numbers. I know some of you will laugh, but we all have our pre-race rituals, traditions or routines and this one is mine.
It gave me an acute sense of calm. Not confidence, not motivation. Just calm. It's like the pieces of this race puzzle are starting to come together, and as the race gets closer, I am slowly starting to become calmer and at peace with the concept of racing a half ironman in what will be less than 18 months after my first triathlon.
The last few weeks have presented some challenges, so it was only in the second half of this week that I picked up some decent training again. Riding 1.5hrs Thursday, 4hrs Friday and 3.5hrs of hills today (Sunday) meant that this was my biggest ride week to date. I wasn't sure how things would turn out, if my body would cooperate or just rebel with the load that was suddenly thrown at it. As it turns out, things went better then I could have expected. I rode (too hard, not following the program - stupid) on Friday but this didn't noticeably affect my hill work today. Legs were fresh, still had the usual power in them and I came off the bike with gas. Given the last few weeks, this was a massive confidence boost which I can only attribute to one thing.
Consistency.
I started working with a new coach in early November 2011. Since then, I have very rarely missed sessions (only if I was sick or injured) and even then tried to limit them to either swim squad or others that I think are 'second tier' (i.e. try never to miss a long run, long ride or interval work). I know people thought I was crazy, but I trained Christmas Day, New Years Eve, New Years Day, my 30th birthday and all over this Easter long weekend - the times people would think are a little odd to train. I've trained in howling wind, rain, heat and cold. I've swam in ice cold water. Bottom line, I've tried my best to be consistent and log consistent hours, week in, week out. For 5 months.
So I feel like, finally, this consistency is starting to pay some dues and propping me up during the times I can't be as consistent. It's like an insurance policy that I'm now claiming on and it's paying up, big time. It's the reason I can get back on the bike, ride my biggest week, and feel good. It's the reason I can get back in the pool for the first time in too long and swim without feeling like a maimed seal gasping for air. Sure it's not perfect, but the point is I'm no worse off.
The training I've done, the programs I've been set, have worked, have put the fitness and strength in my body where they need to be and I can trust that it's there. The next 3 weeks will be, as my coach says, about 'tweaking' this and fine tuning around the edges.
The priority now is to stay healthy, not an easy feat in Melbourne where 100% of the people I work with have been off sick at some point in the past 2 weeks. But I will be doing my best to cotton wool myself so I can toe the line fit, strong and ready to race.
So, on reading 843, my initial feeling was "Great. Strong". Honestly. I had no basis for those thoughts, I didn't force them, it was just the first sense I got that was connected to those numbers. I know some of you will laugh, but we all have our pre-race rituals, traditions or routines and this one is mine.
It gave me an acute sense of calm. Not confidence, not motivation. Just calm. It's like the pieces of this race puzzle are starting to come together, and as the race gets closer, I am slowly starting to become calmer and at peace with the concept of racing a half ironman in what will be less than 18 months after my first triathlon.
The last few weeks have presented some challenges, so it was only in the second half of this week that I picked up some decent training again. Riding 1.5hrs Thursday, 4hrs Friday and 3.5hrs of hills today (Sunday) meant that this was my biggest ride week to date. I wasn't sure how things would turn out, if my body would cooperate or just rebel with the load that was suddenly thrown at it. As it turns out, things went better then I could have expected. I rode (too hard, not following the program - stupid) on Friday but this didn't noticeably affect my hill work today. Legs were fresh, still had the usual power in them and I came off the bike with gas. Given the last few weeks, this was a massive confidence boost which I can only attribute to one thing.
Consistency.
I started working with a new coach in early November 2011. Since then, I have very rarely missed sessions (only if I was sick or injured) and even then tried to limit them to either swim squad or others that I think are 'second tier' (i.e. try never to miss a long run, long ride or interval work). I know people thought I was crazy, but I trained Christmas Day, New Years Eve, New Years Day, my 30th birthday and all over this Easter long weekend - the times people would think are a little odd to train. I've trained in howling wind, rain, heat and cold. I've swam in ice cold water. Bottom line, I've tried my best to be consistent and log consistent hours, week in, week out. For 5 months.
So I feel like, finally, this consistency is starting to pay some dues and propping me up during the times I can't be as consistent. It's like an insurance policy that I'm now claiming on and it's paying up, big time. It's the reason I can get back on the bike, ride my biggest week, and feel good. It's the reason I can get back in the pool for the first time in too long and swim without feeling like a maimed seal gasping for air. Sure it's not perfect, but the point is I'm no worse off.
The training I've done, the programs I've been set, have worked, have put the fitness and strength in my body where they need to be and I can trust that it's there. The next 3 weeks will be, as my coach says, about 'tweaking' this and fine tuning around the edges.
The priority now is to stay healthy, not an easy feat in Melbourne where 100% of the people I work with have been off sick at some point in the past 2 weeks. But I will be doing my best to cotton wool myself so I can toe the line fit, strong and ready to race.
When challenge comes our way
"You must not abandon ship in a storm because you can't control the wind"
In life, most of us have plans. Some are more defined then others (1 year plans; 5 year plans; succession strategies; promotion targets) - others have dreams or ideas of what we would like to achieve 'one day'. These may be as simple as a bucket list, an outline of crazy one-offs that will deliver a sense of achievement and purpose to our lives to break up the normal day-to-day routine.
Within these plans, there may be one or two things that are really important. Goals we only get a chance to do once. Things we have decided to focus on and dedicate time, energy and resources to and make sacrifices to achieve the outcome we not only want, but what we think we are capable of. We may want to test ourselves with this goal, push ourselves further then what we have done before, challenge our body and mind to think or perform outside of its comfort zone. These goals are thrilling, intimidating, exciting, stressful and demanding. These are the ones that make our hearts race with anticipation, that fill our minds with nervous thoughts and which get us out of bed most mornings, excited to face the day.
Generally, we don't throw ourselves into this space with a contingency plan. Failure isn't considered, it's not an option. We'll work hard, be consistent, make sacrifices and get the outcome we expect. That's how things are supposed to work. In the whirl of excitement and progress and improvement, we don't allow ourselves (rightly so) to entertain negative thoughts of "what if I can't do this? what if I fail?"
So, when confronted with circumstances that challenge your goal, jeopardise your plans and derail your strategy, we often don't have strong coping mechanisms to respond. We have been so busy focussing on the positives, maintaining our trajectory towards our goal, celebrating our achievements that when a wall suddenly appears we have no brakes, crash straight into it, leaving ourselves in a crumpled mess.
"Obstacles are put in your way to see if what you want is really worth fighting for"
How people respond to these situations is an interesting social exercise. I've personally observed that people's response largely depends on the confidence they have in themselves. I've seems some horrendous behaviour in a professional context, some heartbreaking stories in a sporting context and I've reflected on both recently to try and understand why people have reacted this way; could they have prepared themselves better? Can we rely on the mental strength we lean on during the times of competition to also help us through times when things just aren't going to our plan?
I do believe that challenges can present opportunity. These may not be immediately obvious; you may be so overwhelmed by the impact these challenges are having on your immediate goals - but, taking the time to put those thoughts to one side, these challenges can be used to develop other skills which can be equally, if not more, useful to your overall goal. Teaching yourself how to harness positivity, giving you opportunities to cross-skill, rest, recover, learn, read. Spend time with family and friends who have been neglected while you chase this dream, whatever it is. You may find that these experiences fill you with a different momentum, a different purpose that you can carry over into your goal once you return to it. Fresher, relaxed, focussed. You can't discount the impact that time can have to your overall objective.
We all read stories of burnout. Gifted geniuses, whether academic or athletic, pushing too far, going to hard and falling apart. Retiring from the very thing that initially brought them so much joy. As much as the dream and the goal is important and the competitor in you wants to succeed and wants to succeed well, you have to acknowledge why the challenges are presenting themselves and pay respect to that. The body is not invincible and it's not a machine that we can just oil every so often and keep churning through the motions. If we want it to respect our goals, we need to respect its needs.
In life, most of us have plans. Some are more defined then others (1 year plans; 5 year plans; succession strategies; promotion targets) - others have dreams or ideas of what we would like to achieve 'one day'. These may be as simple as a bucket list, an outline of crazy one-offs that will deliver a sense of achievement and purpose to our lives to break up the normal day-to-day routine.
Within these plans, there may be one or two things that are really important. Goals we only get a chance to do once. Things we have decided to focus on and dedicate time, energy and resources to and make sacrifices to achieve the outcome we not only want, but what we think we are capable of. We may want to test ourselves with this goal, push ourselves further then what we have done before, challenge our body and mind to think or perform outside of its comfort zone. These goals are thrilling, intimidating, exciting, stressful and demanding. These are the ones that make our hearts race with anticipation, that fill our minds with nervous thoughts and which get us out of bed most mornings, excited to face the day.
Generally, we don't throw ourselves into this space with a contingency plan. Failure isn't considered, it's not an option. We'll work hard, be consistent, make sacrifices and get the outcome we expect. That's how things are supposed to work. In the whirl of excitement and progress and improvement, we don't allow ourselves (rightly so) to entertain negative thoughts of "what if I can't do this? what if I fail?"
So, when confronted with circumstances that challenge your goal, jeopardise your plans and derail your strategy, we often don't have strong coping mechanisms to respond. We have been so busy focussing on the positives, maintaining our trajectory towards our goal, celebrating our achievements that when a wall suddenly appears we have no brakes, crash straight into it, leaving ourselves in a crumpled mess.
"Obstacles are put in your way to see if what you want is really worth fighting for"
How people respond to these situations is an interesting social exercise. I've personally observed that people's response largely depends on the confidence they have in themselves. I've seems some horrendous behaviour in a professional context, some heartbreaking stories in a sporting context and I've reflected on both recently to try and understand why people have reacted this way; could they have prepared themselves better? Can we rely on the mental strength we lean on during the times of competition to also help us through times when things just aren't going to our plan?
I do believe that challenges can present opportunity. These may not be immediately obvious; you may be so overwhelmed by the impact these challenges are having on your immediate goals - but, taking the time to put those thoughts to one side, these challenges can be used to develop other skills which can be equally, if not more, useful to your overall goal. Teaching yourself how to harness positivity, giving you opportunities to cross-skill, rest, recover, learn, read. Spend time with family and friends who have been neglected while you chase this dream, whatever it is. You may find that these experiences fill you with a different momentum, a different purpose that you can carry over into your goal once you return to it. Fresher, relaxed, focussed. You can't discount the impact that time can have to your overall objective.
We all read stories of burnout. Gifted geniuses, whether academic or athletic, pushing too far, going to hard and falling apart. Retiring from the very thing that initially brought them so much joy. As much as the dream and the goal is important and the competitor in you wants to succeed and wants to succeed well, you have to acknowledge why the challenges are presenting themselves and pay respect to that. The body is not invincible and it's not a machine that we can just oil every so often and keep churning through the motions. If we want it to respect our goals, we need to respect its needs.
Can you believe it?
I cannot believe it's April tomorrow. It's been 5 and a half months since I entered 70.3 Busselton and it could be yesterday. Time has flown in a blur of bikes, work, lycra, pools, wind, sweat and tears. Has it really been that long? Have I really been training for 5 months....already? I don't feel like I have, I think I've been on the groundhog day routine that one day merges into another, one weekend into the next, and now I've woken up, turned 30 and this race is in 5 weeks time.
4 more training weeks. Wow. That's an intimidating thought because we always want to train more, just squeeze in a few more sessions. Then there's the big question - have I done enough. Can I be a competitor. Am I mentally ready.
About 4-5 weeks ago was when things started to turn for me. Up until that time, I think I had lingering questions about some things. Could I run a half marathon strongly off the bike? Could I bike strongly and still run strong? What does running 21km feel like? Can I run 21km?
Then something happened. It was like the training puzzle came together and shit started to work. My legs were running strong. My long runs got easier. I stopped being the slowest swimmer at squad. My biking shot up. I don't know why or how this happened but, as I said in my Portarlington race report, I realised that I could do this race, be a competitor and trust my training and my body.
That's something I've focussed on this week. Off the back of the monster IM Melbourne weekend, the early mornings, late nights, negligible nutrition left me in a bit of a crumpled mess. I got sick quickly, which should't have been such a shock given (a) the massive but awesome weekend; and (b) the number of people I work with sharing their various illnesses around the floor. The result being 5 days of no training, dragging myself through the days, cold & flu tablets, ginger & lemon tea, sleep time and worrying about the fact I wasn't training. Missing 5 DAYS?? The control freak in me started to meltdown. This was supposed to be a big, focussed, HIM week. Key. Important. Critical. And here I was, letting myself down by being sick.
That's right. "Letting myself down". Like I had any say in it and any control. Life is not perfect, bodies certainly aren't invincible and I've been incredibly lucky with the build I've had to escaped with nothing more then a few niggles. My body has been good to me, strong and it has tolerated a lot. But obviously, it can take only so much. So rather then allow myself to wallow in what I couldn't do, I tried to focus on what I could - rest, take time off, take advantage of the days I couldn't train to give my body what it hasn't had in so long (time off) and focus on getting back into the sessions once I was better. Dwelling on the week would do me no good and only prolong a headspace which would do me no good. Pushing my body to train would only end in tears (literally) and make the recovery period even longer.
So today, I got up and I rode for 2 hours (I'll admit, I did need a bit of a push out the door :). Nothing fast, just moving the legs again. And it felt great. Legs felt strong, it was warm, the Spanish track team cheered me on and the head wind back from Mordi didn't bother me (too) much. I'll admit, it was mentally the longest 2 hour ride ever and I think my body was in a bit of shock (what, a bike? we're back on this thing again? Geez) but you know what? I physically felt no different. If anything, I felt better with the rest I've had. And that has given me exactly what I need. The confidence that 5 days off, the scheme of things, is no big deal.
Now, I've got 4 weeks to tweak the last 5 months of training. I've got no doubt it's going to be a pretty ugly 4 weeks, I'm going to be tired, things will hurt, I'll start to stress at some point.....but that's what racing's all about. That's what triathlon is all about. Blood, sweat, snot bombs, vomits, pain, aching, tears and that one moment when you cross the line and realise that THIS moment is why it's all worth it.
4 more training weeks. Wow. That's an intimidating thought because we always want to train more, just squeeze in a few more sessions. Then there's the big question - have I done enough. Can I be a competitor. Am I mentally ready.
About 4-5 weeks ago was when things started to turn for me. Up until that time, I think I had lingering questions about some things. Could I run a half marathon strongly off the bike? Could I bike strongly and still run strong? What does running 21km feel like? Can I run 21km?
Then something happened. It was like the training puzzle came together and shit started to work. My legs were running strong. My long runs got easier. I stopped being the slowest swimmer at squad. My biking shot up. I don't know why or how this happened but, as I said in my Portarlington race report, I realised that I could do this race, be a competitor and trust my training and my body.
That's something I've focussed on this week. Off the back of the monster IM Melbourne weekend, the early mornings, late nights, negligible nutrition left me in a bit of a crumpled mess. I got sick quickly, which should't have been such a shock given (a) the massive but awesome weekend; and (b) the number of people I work with sharing their various illnesses around the floor. The result being 5 days of no training, dragging myself through the days, cold & flu tablets, ginger & lemon tea, sleep time and worrying about the fact I wasn't training. Missing 5 DAYS?? The control freak in me started to meltdown. This was supposed to be a big, focussed, HIM week. Key. Important. Critical. And here I was, letting myself down by being sick.
That's right. "Letting myself down". Like I had any say in it and any control. Life is not perfect, bodies certainly aren't invincible and I've been incredibly lucky with the build I've had to escaped with nothing more then a few niggles. My body has been good to me, strong and it has tolerated a lot. But obviously, it can take only so much. So rather then allow myself to wallow in what I couldn't do, I tried to focus on what I could - rest, take time off, take advantage of the days I couldn't train to give my body what it hasn't had in so long (time off) and focus on getting back into the sessions once I was better. Dwelling on the week would do me no good and only prolong a headspace which would do me no good. Pushing my body to train would only end in tears (literally) and make the recovery period even longer.
So today, I got up and I rode for 2 hours (I'll admit, I did need a bit of a push out the door :). Nothing fast, just moving the legs again. And it felt great. Legs felt strong, it was warm, the Spanish track team cheered me on and the head wind back from Mordi didn't bother me (too) much. I'll admit, it was mentally the longest 2 hour ride ever and I think my body was in a bit of shock (what, a bike? we're back on this thing again? Geez) but you know what? I physically felt no different. If anything, I felt better with the rest I've had. And that has given me exactly what I need. The confidence that 5 days off, the scheme of things, is no big deal.
Now, I've got 4 weeks to tweak the last 5 months of training. I've got no doubt it's going to be a pretty ugly 4 weeks, I'm going to be tired, things will hurt, I'll start to stress at some point.....but that's what racing's all about. That's what triathlon is all about. Blood, sweat, snot bombs, vomits, pain, aching, tears and that one moment when you cross the line and realise that THIS moment is why it's all worth it.
N U M B E R F I V E
This weekend was my last hit out before 70.3 Busselton in 7 weeks time. The Gatorade Porarlington race is a longer sprint distance triathlon (800m swim, 26k bike, 8k run) and, while I have spectated at this race before, I had never raced the course.
Due to the craziness that is life over the past week, I forgot that I was racing until last Friday when all the Facebook posts started. Good, in hindsight, as there was no race week build up, no anxiety, no manic googling the course, checking the wind/weather/elevation and panicking whether I would have a good/bad/average/bomb of a race. Totally forgot. The other benefit is that practically no one else knew I was racing, so there was hardly any "looking forward to race day?" conversations. Total calm.
Did my day-before race pace efforts on the bike and a short run off. Felt great and this was the first time I started thinking that maybe I'd have a solid race. After Geelong, its not secret that I wasn't over the moon with the race as a whole. It was important to have a good final race before Busso for a bunch of reasons - test the training, know things are on track, prove to myself I can race and - most importantly - give me the confidence that I need going into this 7 week period.
The thing with races is you can't focus too much on them. I've learnt that, for me, focusing on a race and analysing/assessing/turning it over in your mind is diabolical. Be prepared, absolutely. Know the course, exits/entries and the essentials. But leave the non-essentials behind. For me, they just clog up my mind with unnecessary worry that takes away from what I need to focus on. Racing. Being competitive. Pacing.
So I drove down to Geelong late Saturday, checked into my hotel, watched a movie, ate dinner, prepped the bike and went to sleep early. Alarm off at 5.30am, standard pre race meal and into the car to Portarlington. Found a park easy, wandered into the race area, collected my race pack, went through number marking, racked my bike, checked the entry/ exit points, then wandered to the tent. Calm.
It was hilarious. I felt no stress and no worry about this race at all. I have no idea why; perhaps because so many other things are happening in life at the moment, maybe it was because I knew this isn't my priority race, maybe I'm just "maturing" as a racer. Who knows. But it was so nice. Just calmly going through the motions of wetsuit on, warm up done, and heading to race start.
The first time I started to feel a bit anxious was lining up to start. How can you not. Waiting for that gun to go off is torture. I positioned myself to the end of the swim start line up, like always. I wanted to get a clear break and start strong. Gun went off and I went for it - the water was shallow so I porpoised about 8 times before I started swimming. Two girls shot off like fish and were clearly planning it that way so I let them go. I was behind them in third, where I stayed until 2/3 of the swim when one girl overtook my towards the end. I was sighting a lot as the long course swimmers were with us and I wanted to keep track of where I was in the age group pack. I wasn't sure if that girl finished in front of me at the end. I felt strong, and for the first time, I was in the race.
I came out of the water and sprinted along the transition path. I didn't know my exact position but I knew I was about 3rd or 4th. Ripped the wetsuit off, helmet and glasses on and I was off. Sprinting out, yelling "excuse me" to people who were taking their time. Forget jump mounting (my seat's too high and it stresses me out) so I got on and rode up the hill. Somehow, the Velcro on my shoe got stuck so I spent probably a minute stuffing around trying to sort that out and keep pedalling. What can you do. Once I got myself sorted, I was off. There were a group of guys ahead and we played cat and mouse for about half of the ride, then I caught up to one of the girls in my age group and we chased each other for awhile. We rode into a headwind for about 2/3 of the ride and up a slight gradient for that time with some sharper inclines that pinched. The road was dead for most of the ride which made it a challenge, but a good one. Gave me a chance to give all this bike training a good hit. Finally we hit some downhill and I went for it and had a crack. Burned back into transition, forget any fancy dismount, and sprinted into transition. Couldn't see any bikes so took that as a good sign. Figured I was around 3rd place.
Onto the run and straight up "the stairs". Nightmare. Then there were a few sharp little "hills" at the start of the run to really test things before you could settle into a rhythm. Now, what no-one told me was that the ENTIRE run was on a gravelly/dirt/sandy packed track next to the beach. No road as the long course guys were still riding. The run was undulating in parts with some tight hills and this surface made it extra challenging. The sun was out by this stage and making things hot. It was actually a really nice run; my age group was one of the first starters so by the time I was on the run I was one of the first people out there (aside from the opens & elites). I haven't run on an 'empty' course before and it really gives you a different race feel - I liked it. Given it was out and back, it also let me see where I was at in terms of placing. I haven't done any specific short course work so I knew I couldn't keep the pace I expected these girls to run (4m/km - 4.20m/km pace). I was running between 4.30-4.45m/km pace and holding but I knew that it wasn't fast enough to hold my place. I thought about upping it but knew if I did I'd blow before the end of the run (given the last 2k or so was uphill) so decided to stick to the pace I knew I could hold and let what will be, be.
As it turned out, I ended up holding a 4.45m/km average and ran 37.21 for 8km which is a new race PB for me. PUMPED. It wasn't enough for a podium and I finished 5th overall (50sec shy of 3rd place.....!!) To say that I was BEYOND excited would be an understatement. For the first time, I turned up calm, confident and I raced. I raced from the start, was a competitor and laid it all out there. The run was tough, I was definitely hurting towards the end and those last couple of hills made every part of my body ache. But that's racing. I crossed that line knowing I gave it everything and look - a 5th place!! In a SPRINT distance race (seriously?!) while training for a half ironman.
I am completely overwhelmed and excited by what Busso will bring me. The confidence that this weekend's race has given me is more than any training session, more than any 4 hour ride, long run, swim set. It's the knowledge that when it matters; on race day; not knowing the course, the weather, the competitors - that I can go out there, trust my training, trust my body, read my efforts and know how to race. To chase, to read other competitors. To push when I need to, hold back when it's needed. Dose efforts. Get angry. Push through pain. Focus on the finish. It was such an important day for all of these reasons, results aside.
It's taken ever triathlon I've raced (this was my 7th) to finally get it. Well I think I've got it. Maybe I've only got it a little bit. But it's a start. And not a moment too soon. Triathlon is hard and it hurts. I was told this day 1 and I only really understood that this weekend, really understood exactly what that means. But there is nothing more motivating then knowing you're getting what you have worked so hard for and therefore what you deserve. That is the best motivation of all.
Due to the craziness that is life over the past week, I forgot that I was racing until last Friday when all the Facebook posts started. Good, in hindsight, as there was no race week build up, no anxiety, no manic googling the course, checking the wind/weather/elevation and panicking whether I would have a good/bad/average/bomb of a race. Totally forgot. The other benefit is that practically no one else knew I was racing, so there was hardly any "looking forward to race day?" conversations. Total calm.
Did my day-before race pace efforts on the bike and a short run off. Felt great and this was the first time I started thinking that maybe I'd have a solid race. After Geelong, its not secret that I wasn't over the moon with the race as a whole. It was important to have a good final race before Busso for a bunch of reasons - test the training, know things are on track, prove to myself I can race and - most importantly - give me the confidence that I need going into this 7 week period.
The thing with races is you can't focus too much on them. I've learnt that, for me, focusing on a race and analysing/assessing/turning it over in your mind is diabolical. Be prepared, absolutely. Know the course, exits/entries and the essentials. But leave the non-essentials behind. For me, they just clog up my mind with unnecessary worry that takes away from what I need to focus on. Racing. Being competitive. Pacing.
So I drove down to Geelong late Saturday, checked into my hotel, watched a movie, ate dinner, prepped the bike and went to sleep early. Alarm off at 5.30am, standard pre race meal and into the car to Portarlington. Found a park easy, wandered into the race area, collected my race pack, went through number marking, racked my bike, checked the entry/ exit points, then wandered to the tent. Calm.
It was hilarious. I felt no stress and no worry about this race at all. I have no idea why; perhaps because so many other things are happening in life at the moment, maybe it was because I knew this isn't my priority race, maybe I'm just "maturing" as a racer. Who knows. But it was so nice. Just calmly going through the motions of wetsuit on, warm up done, and heading to race start.
The first time I started to feel a bit anxious was lining up to start. How can you not. Waiting for that gun to go off is torture. I positioned myself to the end of the swim start line up, like always. I wanted to get a clear break and start strong. Gun went off and I went for it - the water was shallow so I porpoised about 8 times before I started swimming. Two girls shot off like fish and were clearly planning it that way so I let them go. I was behind them in third, where I stayed until 2/3 of the swim when one girl overtook my towards the end. I was sighting a lot as the long course swimmers were with us and I wanted to keep track of where I was in the age group pack. I wasn't sure if that girl finished in front of me at the end. I felt strong, and for the first time, I was in the race.
I came out of the water and sprinted along the transition path. I didn't know my exact position but I knew I was about 3rd or 4th. Ripped the wetsuit off, helmet and glasses on and I was off. Sprinting out, yelling "excuse me" to people who were taking their time. Forget jump mounting (my seat's too high and it stresses me out) so I got on and rode up the hill. Somehow, the Velcro on my shoe got stuck so I spent probably a minute stuffing around trying to sort that out and keep pedalling. What can you do. Once I got myself sorted, I was off. There were a group of guys ahead and we played cat and mouse for about half of the ride, then I caught up to one of the girls in my age group and we chased each other for awhile. We rode into a headwind for about 2/3 of the ride and up a slight gradient for that time with some sharper inclines that pinched. The road was dead for most of the ride which made it a challenge, but a good one. Gave me a chance to give all this bike training a good hit. Finally we hit some downhill and I went for it and had a crack. Burned back into transition, forget any fancy dismount, and sprinted into transition. Couldn't see any bikes so took that as a good sign. Figured I was around 3rd place.
Onto the run and straight up "the stairs". Nightmare. Then there were a few sharp little "hills" at the start of the run to really test things before you could settle into a rhythm. Now, what no-one told me was that the ENTIRE run was on a gravelly/dirt/sandy packed track next to the beach. No road as the long course guys were still riding. The run was undulating in parts with some tight hills and this surface made it extra challenging. The sun was out by this stage and making things hot. It was actually a really nice run; my age group was one of the first starters so by the time I was on the run I was one of the first people out there (aside from the opens & elites). I haven't run on an 'empty' course before and it really gives you a different race feel - I liked it. Given it was out and back, it also let me see where I was at in terms of placing. I haven't done any specific short course work so I knew I couldn't keep the pace I expected these girls to run (4m/km - 4.20m/km pace). I was running between 4.30-4.45m/km pace and holding but I knew that it wasn't fast enough to hold my place. I thought about upping it but knew if I did I'd blow before the end of the run (given the last 2k or so was uphill) so decided to stick to the pace I knew I could hold and let what will be, be.
As it turned out, I ended up holding a 4.45m/km average and ran 37.21 for 8km which is a new race PB for me. PUMPED. It wasn't enough for a podium and I finished 5th overall (50sec shy of 3rd place.....!!) To say that I was BEYOND excited would be an understatement. For the first time, I turned up calm, confident and I raced. I raced from the start, was a competitor and laid it all out there. The run was tough, I was definitely hurting towards the end and those last couple of hills made every part of my body ache. But that's racing. I crossed that line knowing I gave it everything and look - a 5th place!! In a SPRINT distance race (seriously?!) while training for a half ironman.
I am completely overwhelmed and excited by what Busso will bring me. The confidence that this weekend's race has given me is more than any training session, more than any 4 hour ride, long run, swim set. It's the knowledge that when it matters; on race day; not knowing the course, the weather, the competitors - that I can go out there, trust my training, trust my body, read my efforts and know how to race. To chase, to read other competitors. To push when I need to, hold back when it's needed. Dose efforts. Get angry. Push through pain. Focus on the finish. It was such an important day for all of these reasons, results aside.
It's taken ever triathlon I've raced (this was my 7th) to finally get it. Well I think I've got it. Maybe I've only got it a little bit. But it's a start. And not a moment too soon. Triathlon is hard and it hurts. I was told this day 1 and I only really understood that this weekend, really understood exactly what that means. But there is nothing more motivating then knowing you're getting what you have worked so hard for and therefore what you deserve. That is the best motivation of all.
Suffering for success
After Geelong, I had a good hard look at my "race fitness" across each three legs. I wanted to be honest with myself because I needed to see where I could focus some more energy to give my performance a boost. From my previous post, it is evident I was happy with my run (and 6min PB) and knew I had more to give there. With the bike, I knew I under dosed my efforts but the main thing was I knew I had gas in the tank and more power in the engine. It was when I looked at my swim, and forced myself to remember that long, torturous 1.5k (or 1.7k depending on who you talk to) that I hit the mental jackpot.
BOGUS.
If I am honest with myself, my swim has gone no where in a solid 6 months. That's nobody's fault but my own. When I first got into triathlon, I came in with a swim background (translation: I swam squad 4-5 days a week when I was in school for 8 years, raced a few district and state competitions, but hadn't swum a lap in probably 13 years). Lesson: The body changes a lot, physically, in 13 years. Stupidly, I eased back on the notion that "I'm a swimmer" and never really invested the same focus, or energy, on the swim leg as my bike and run. This attitude was certainly not helped by the common misconception among triathletes that you "just have to get through the swim".
No my friends, it is not just about getting through the swim. I read a quote from a pro who said "its true you can't win the race in the swim, but you can definitely lose it" and I can't agree more. My ambivalence with swimming has left what I can see is a gaping hole in my improvement trajectory. I know/knew I was a terrible runner and I've worked hard to improve this. I loved the bike from the moment I started riding, and had a little bit of natural ability so it's been a bit easier to pick this up and improve. But swimming......I've resisted. Why? I think the 8 years of following the black line, night after night, has mentally scarred me. In fact I know it has. Back in the day, your squad instructor yelled at you until you cried, hit you on the back with a stick to correct your stroke and wouldn't let you get out of the pool, sometimes even if you needed to go to the bathroom. I still have such strong memories of those days, and as a result I developed such a hate for squad and for swimming but was made to go. I suspect this is why I find it so difficult to motivate myself to go, and follow that black line again. That, and the fact that I stupidly have been thinking "I'm still a swimmer". A friend pointed out that it's easy to become complacent with a strength; in may case, I became complacent because of the past. Coach tells me the aim of triathlon is no glaring strengths and no glaring weakness. My aim is to stop the swim rolling closer to the 'glaring weakness' bucket.
BUT I'M NOT ONE TO SIT AROUND
Once I had my lightbulb moment, it was action stations. I fronted up to masters squad (on speed set night), got my ass absolutely whooped, walked out with my ego smashed, then fronted up again. And again. And again. And again. I've asked heaps of questions. I've gotten specific drills for ocean swimming. I'm still getting my ass whooped (side note: I used to swim in the advanced squad in my triathlon club so, even with my comments above, I considered myself to have a fairly good swimmer ability. What a joke. Clearly there is a different between "triathlon swimmers" and "swimmers".....maybe its a bit like the tension between cyclists and triathletes? Anyway moral of the story - these guys in masters swimming can swim. Like, seriously-swim-I'm-going-to-national-titles swim. My legs, shoulders, arms and heart rate have gotten the shock of their lives). I'm perhaps the 2nd or 3rd slowest swimmer there. I still hate the black line. It's still a battle to get the motivation to go. But I go, and I submit myself to the 90min of non-stop swimming pain and I'm already a better swimmer for it. I feel faster, I feel stronger, my stroke rates up. I can actually sprint continuous laps now.
The important thing for me is to be confident across all 3 disciplines; confident that my ability across each is roughly the same, that no one leg is going to let me down. I'm fortunate in that there is some residual swimming ability there; you don't forget technique, form, stroke....it comes back. The shoulders are slowly building up. My ego is slowly mending (although I did feel a little bit better when one of the guys found out I raced triathlon and said "that's crazy, I don't know how you do it". Made me feel a little better about the fact he was lapping me in the pool :)
And truthfully? The nut bag in me kind of likes the novelty of squad again. Turning up and being subjected to some cruel form of torture, not knowing what you're in for. I like changes to training, it keeps like interesting. So I've got big hopes that this cruel torture will pay off.
On the topic of changes....this week, coach mixed things up and programmed a Sufferfest video into my weekly wind trainer sessions. I follow this Sufferfest mob on Twitter and truly, the way they market their stuff it makes me think I need a dark room and a rave CD just to buy it. It freaks me out a little bit. People tweet how the DVDs ruin them, breaks them etc. Anyway, I was assured it wouldn't be too hard so I downloaded the required DVD, set up my gear and actually got excited for something new:
It was awesome! 80min of solid riding, good intensity and some pick up sprints. Limited downtime and some cool cycling footage. Solid calorie burner and worked up a sweat. Wouldn't mind knocking off a few more of those. If you haven't tried a DVD from these guys, give it a go if you want to mix up your trainer sessions.
On that note, 2 weeks until Victor Harbour and tomorrow is another solid weekend of training. Starting to get very close, 11 weeks till race day!
BOGUS.
If I am honest with myself, my swim has gone no where in a solid 6 months. That's nobody's fault but my own. When I first got into triathlon, I came in with a swim background (translation: I swam squad 4-5 days a week when I was in school for 8 years, raced a few district and state competitions, but hadn't swum a lap in probably 13 years). Lesson: The body changes a lot, physically, in 13 years. Stupidly, I eased back on the notion that "I'm a swimmer" and never really invested the same focus, or energy, on the swim leg as my bike and run. This attitude was certainly not helped by the common misconception among triathletes that you "just have to get through the swim".
No my friends, it is not just about getting through the swim. I read a quote from a pro who said "its true you can't win the race in the swim, but you can definitely lose it" and I can't agree more. My ambivalence with swimming has left what I can see is a gaping hole in my improvement trajectory. I know/knew I was a terrible runner and I've worked hard to improve this. I loved the bike from the moment I started riding, and had a little bit of natural ability so it's been a bit easier to pick this up and improve. But swimming......I've resisted. Why? I think the 8 years of following the black line, night after night, has mentally scarred me. In fact I know it has. Back in the day, your squad instructor yelled at you until you cried, hit you on the back with a stick to correct your stroke and wouldn't let you get out of the pool, sometimes even if you needed to go to the bathroom. I still have such strong memories of those days, and as a result I developed such a hate for squad and for swimming but was made to go. I suspect this is why I find it so difficult to motivate myself to go, and follow that black line again. That, and the fact that I stupidly have been thinking "I'm still a swimmer". A friend pointed out that it's easy to become complacent with a strength; in may case, I became complacent because of the past. Coach tells me the aim of triathlon is no glaring strengths and no glaring weakness. My aim is to stop the swim rolling closer to the 'glaring weakness' bucket.
BUT I'M NOT ONE TO SIT AROUND
Once I had my lightbulb moment, it was action stations. I fronted up to masters squad (on speed set night), got my ass absolutely whooped, walked out with my ego smashed, then fronted up again. And again. And again. And again. I've asked heaps of questions. I've gotten specific drills for ocean swimming. I'm still getting my ass whooped (side note: I used to swim in the advanced squad in my triathlon club so, even with my comments above, I considered myself to have a fairly good swimmer ability. What a joke. Clearly there is a different between "triathlon swimmers" and "swimmers".....maybe its a bit like the tension between cyclists and triathletes? Anyway moral of the story - these guys in masters swimming can swim. Like, seriously-swim-I'm-going-to-national-titles swim. My legs, shoulders, arms and heart rate have gotten the shock of their lives). I'm perhaps the 2nd or 3rd slowest swimmer there. I still hate the black line. It's still a battle to get the motivation to go. But I go, and I submit myself to the 90min of non-stop swimming pain and I'm already a better swimmer for it. I feel faster, I feel stronger, my stroke rates up. I can actually sprint continuous laps now.
The important thing for me is to be confident across all 3 disciplines; confident that my ability across each is roughly the same, that no one leg is going to let me down. I'm fortunate in that there is some residual swimming ability there; you don't forget technique, form, stroke....it comes back. The shoulders are slowly building up. My ego is slowly mending (although I did feel a little bit better when one of the guys found out I raced triathlon and said "that's crazy, I don't know how you do it". Made me feel a little better about the fact he was lapping me in the pool :)
And truthfully? The nut bag in me kind of likes the novelty of squad again. Turning up and being subjected to some cruel form of torture, not knowing what you're in for. I like changes to training, it keeps like interesting. So I've got big hopes that this cruel torture will pay off.
On the topic of changes....this week, coach mixed things up and programmed a Sufferfest video into my weekly wind trainer sessions. I follow this Sufferfest mob on Twitter and truly, the way they market their stuff it makes me think I need a dark room and a rave CD just to buy it. It freaks me out a little bit. People tweet how the DVDs ruin them, breaks them etc. Anyway, I was assured it wouldn't be too hard so I downloaded the required DVD, set up my gear and actually got excited for something new:
 |
| Sweat station |
It was awesome! 80min of solid riding, good intensity and some pick up sprints. Limited downtime and some cool cycling footage. Solid calorie burner and worked up a sweat. Wouldn't mind knocking off a few more of those. If you haven't tried a DVD from these guys, give it a go if you want to mix up your trainer sessions.
 |
| Just me and the open road..... |
On that note, 2 weeks until Victor Harbour and tomorrow is another solid weekend of training. Starting to get very close, 11 weeks till race day!
 |
| Me finishing Sufferfest - happy days! Love it! |
Ding dong, Geelong
Yesterday I participated in the Geelong Olympic Distance triathlon. I say participated deliberately, because with the benefit of reflection and analysis of data, I don't feel like I can say I "raced". But more on that soon.
I was really excited for this race. It would be triathlon # 5, Olympic Distance # 2 in my very short triathlon career and I was very keen to see how I would fare compared to Noosa three months earlier and - most importantly - how all this half ironman training would translate into a race.
Naturally, because I was signed up for a triathlon, the skies opened and proceeded to bucket down the most insane amount of rain from Saturday afternoon until roughly Sunday morning. So commenced the dreaded question of "will the swim be cancelled" and would I now be signed up to do the most torturous Olympic distance duathlon. I manically monitored the EPA website, USM's twitter feed and stared out the window willing the rain to stop. There was nothing else for it but to sleep and hope for the best.
Sunday morning I was greeted with.....pouring rain. Great. Official word was for a swim start, but I began to be more concerned with the road conditions. This amount of rain meant super slippery surface, bad visibility, stacks, crashes, punctures and - slower times. Then there was the wind. Strong and lots of it. Was going to be a long day at the office.
The swim
There's nothing really positive to say about the swim. I was like an injured seal, struggling through the water, begging to be put out of her misery. First dive in and goggles came off (good start) and from then on I lost my chance to be in a group and swam the very long 1.5km on my own with no feet and miserable thoughts in my head. Was a solid 5 minutes slower then my 1.4k Australia Day swim. So yep, this was bloody dreadful.
The bike
My poor bike was hanging out on the rack by itself by this stage. I had to laugh at myself as this was definitely not something I expected. I grabbed my gear and had a pretty seamless transition. Running past the Tri Alliance tent, with lots of cheering, I admit I felt embarrassed. I have always felt proud of my swimming competence and today's swim put me way back in the field and I felt flat that this was so public. I pushed these thoughts to the side and tried to navigate around the slow pokes, the mud and to get on with it.
We (me and coach) agreed I wouldn't kill myself on the bike this time and that I'd focus on having a strong run. Given my lack of race experience, I wasn't sure where this would leave me speed wise - how fast I should push to still have run legs. Add in the pouring rain and block headwind, I was in all sorts about how to ride this race. I was also acutely aware of being in no man's land with no girls around me - I had no idea if that meant I was riding incredibly slow, them fast or what was going on. This mental roller coaster went on for much of the ride. Lesson - to chill out and focus on the task at hand.
Coming back into town, there was a lot of slow cautious riding through the park which was annoying but necessary. Case proved when a girl in front of me took the last corner too fast and her bike slid straight out from under her, resulting in her landing flat on her back and sliding 5 metres across the gravel. This lead another guy to lock his brakes and fly over the top of his handle bars, face planting quite hard into a median strip bush. I said a silent prayer that I was lucky to get off this bike with no punctures and no spills.
I got off the bike in 1.20 which I was pretty disappointed with. I knew I had a lot more in me but I wasn't sure how much to give in order to save my run - it was only my second OD and I'm still learning my limits. As soon as I came off the bike and started running, this answered my question - legs fresh as a daisy. Definitely should have pushed harder on the bike.
The run
The main goal of this race was to have a strong run off the bike. Its no secret that the run is my weakest leg and I've been working pretty hard over the past 3 month build to work this up. I wasn't familiar with the course so I was a bit conservative with pacing - I didn't want to blow at the 5km mark and then drag my feet home.
Lucky for this as the course was pretty hilly - sharp uphill plus rolling undulations made for a challenging 10km. Seriously, I finished one hill and felt like there was another one just to replace it. Definitely was not prepared for that! But sometimes its better not to know what you're getting yourself in for as it meant that I just got on with it and tried to stay consistent.
This strategy still paid off as I crossed the line in 50.47 - a 5min improvement on my Noosa time and still with plenty of gas in the tank. To say that I was pumped is an understatement. I was so close to my sub 50m goal that I know, in hindsight, I could have gotten there. The confidence boost in how my run is tracking is incredible - I never EVER thought I would be someone who could even think she could run sub 5min/km, but now this is looking perfectly achievable. Excited to see how much more I can juice from these legs in the next ~80 days before Busso :)
Post race review
I didn't feel tired after the race and handled recovery as well as I could without having my usual nutrition with me (ok, it was basically a Coke fuelled recovery). Stretched for about 30min after the race and got in as much water as I could. Drove home from Geelong feeling good, didn't need a sleep which is a first - so something's definitely going right.
I downloaded my Garmin data to see if my heart rate averages backed up my post race thoughts on pacing efforts. And, as expected, they did.
- For the bike, my average heart rate was in my tested T2 heart rate zone.
- For the run, my average heart rate was in my tested T3 heart rate zone.
- For the swim - who knows (rubbish)
What this tells me is that I basically "raced" this as a training session. For an Olympic Distance race, I would expect these heart rates to be much higher (the red line effect that I hear about). No wonder I came off the bike with legs feeling fine and finished the run with gas. The data shows I wasn't pushing my body hard enough for this style of racing.
I was disappointed initially with what "could have been". Ahh yes, the old coulda/woulda/shoulda. But I didn't so I've got to look at what I got out of this race:
But more important then all of this, I got the answer I was looking for - my endurance training is working. I was out there moving for 2.47 and finished feeling fine. This gives me a big confidence boost going into the next block of half IM training and was exactly what I needed at this point. My focus is on getting my body race fit for a ~5hour endurance event. This weekend gave me a big tick that this is tracking along perfectly.
I was really excited for this race. It would be triathlon # 5, Olympic Distance # 2 in my very short triathlon career and I was very keen to see how I would fare compared to Noosa three months earlier and - most importantly - how all this half ironman training would translate into a race.
Naturally, because I was signed up for a triathlon, the skies opened and proceeded to bucket down the most insane amount of rain from Saturday afternoon until roughly Sunday morning. So commenced the dreaded question of "will the swim be cancelled" and would I now be signed up to do the most torturous Olympic distance duathlon. I manically monitored the EPA website, USM's twitter feed and stared out the window willing the rain to stop. There was nothing else for it but to sleep and hope for the best.
Sunday morning I was greeted with.....pouring rain. Great. Official word was for a swim start, but I began to be more concerned with the road conditions. This amount of rain meant super slippery surface, bad visibility, stacks, crashes, punctures and - slower times. Then there was the wind. Strong and lots of it. Was going to be a long day at the office.
The swim
There's nothing really positive to say about the swim. I was like an injured seal, struggling through the water, begging to be put out of her misery. First dive in and goggles came off (good start) and from then on I lost my chance to be in a group and swam the very long 1.5km on my own with no feet and miserable thoughts in my head. Was a solid 5 minutes slower then my 1.4k Australia Day swim. So yep, this was bloody dreadful.
The bike
My poor bike was hanging out on the rack by itself by this stage. I had to laugh at myself as this was definitely not something I expected. I grabbed my gear and had a pretty seamless transition. Running past the Tri Alliance tent, with lots of cheering, I admit I felt embarrassed. I have always felt proud of my swimming competence and today's swim put me way back in the field and I felt flat that this was so public. I pushed these thoughts to the side and tried to navigate around the slow pokes, the mud and to get on with it.
We (me and coach) agreed I wouldn't kill myself on the bike this time and that I'd focus on having a strong run. Given my lack of race experience, I wasn't sure where this would leave me speed wise - how fast I should push to still have run legs. Add in the pouring rain and block headwind, I was in all sorts about how to ride this race. I was also acutely aware of being in no man's land with no girls around me - I had no idea if that meant I was riding incredibly slow, them fast or what was going on. This mental roller coaster went on for much of the ride. Lesson - to chill out and focus on the task at hand.
Coming back into town, there was a lot of slow cautious riding through the park which was annoying but necessary. Case proved when a girl in front of me took the last corner too fast and her bike slid straight out from under her, resulting in her landing flat on her back and sliding 5 metres across the gravel. This lead another guy to lock his brakes and fly over the top of his handle bars, face planting quite hard into a median strip bush. I said a silent prayer that I was lucky to get off this bike with no punctures and no spills.
I got off the bike in 1.20 which I was pretty disappointed with. I knew I had a lot more in me but I wasn't sure how much to give in order to save my run - it was only my second OD and I'm still learning my limits. As soon as I came off the bike and started running, this answered my question - legs fresh as a daisy. Definitely should have pushed harder on the bike.
The run
The main goal of this race was to have a strong run off the bike. Its no secret that the run is my weakest leg and I've been working pretty hard over the past 3 month build to work this up. I wasn't familiar with the course so I was a bit conservative with pacing - I didn't want to blow at the 5km mark and then drag my feet home.
Lucky for this as the course was pretty hilly - sharp uphill plus rolling undulations made for a challenging 10km. Seriously, I finished one hill and felt like there was another one just to replace it. Definitely was not prepared for that! But sometimes its better not to know what you're getting yourself in for as it meant that I just got on with it and tried to stay consistent.
This strategy still paid off as I crossed the line in 50.47 - a 5min improvement on my Noosa time and still with plenty of gas in the tank. To say that I was pumped is an understatement. I was so close to my sub 50m goal that I know, in hindsight, I could have gotten there. The confidence boost in how my run is tracking is incredible - I never EVER thought I would be someone who could even think she could run sub 5min/km, but now this is looking perfectly achievable. Excited to see how much more I can juice from these legs in the next ~80 days before Busso :)
Post race review
I didn't feel tired after the race and handled recovery as well as I could without having my usual nutrition with me (ok, it was basically a Coke fuelled recovery). Stretched for about 30min after the race and got in as much water as I could. Drove home from Geelong feeling good, didn't need a sleep which is a first - so something's definitely going right.
I downloaded my Garmin data to see if my heart rate averages backed up my post race thoughts on pacing efforts. And, as expected, they did.
- For the bike, my average heart rate was in my tested T2 heart rate zone.
- For the run, my average heart rate was in my tested T3 heart rate zone.
- For the swim - who knows (rubbish)
What this tells me is that I basically "raced" this as a training session. For an Olympic Distance race, I would expect these heart rates to be much higher (the red line effect that I hear about). No wonder I came off the bike with legs feeling fine and finished the run with gas. The data shows I wasn't pushing my body hard enough for this style of racing.
I was disappointed initially with what "could have been". Ahh yes, the old coulda/woulda/shoulda. But I didn't so I've got to look at what I got out of this race:
- I've learnt some valuable lessons about my own personal pacing that I can test out in the next OD race in 4 weeks time.
- I nailed down my nutrition with no problems.
- I woke up with no muscle aches or pains, which means training this week won't be compromised (important given the overall focus of the season).
- And, even with my pacing miscalculations, I still had a respectable finish in the top half and got a run PB.
But more important then all of this, I got the answer I was looking for - my endurance training is working. I was out there moving for 2.47 and finished feeling fine. This gives me a big confidence boost going into the next block of half IM training and was exactly what I needed at this point. My focus is on getting my body race fit for a ~5hour endurance event. This weekend gave me a big tick that this is tracking along perfectly.
Don't think. Just do.
For people who aren't involved in triathlon, announcing you are training for one can sometimes elevate you to a status somewhere around an athletic god. The non-triathletes (the "NT"s) don't know the difference between a sprint race and an ironman; all they know is that triathlon involves three sports in one and MAN that is HARD. Plus you have to SWIM. In the OCEAN. Wow you must be fit! Why do you do it?
I never get tired of the awe in NT's voices (and sometimes the undertones of "you nut bag, why on earth would you waste weekends like that?!") when they find out you race in triathlons, because it is the dose of reality-checking you need when you are caught up in the "world". You can get so immersed in training (was it a good session? bad? were you tired/dehydrated/on pace/under speed), critiquing everything you do, meticulously planning your swim/bike/run/eat/sleep/repeat and race schedule, wondering if you should think about a new frame/new helmet/new wheels/new aero hydration system (don't laugh, we have all thought about it) that sometimes you can forget the very fact we are involved with the sport is a pretty amazing accomplishment in itself.
You laugh off these comments by saying things like it's-no-big-deal-its-a-lifestyle etc, the NTs look at you like you're from another planet (their minds thinking 'how can riding a bike with those skinny little wheels and skinny little seats be a lifestyle?') and you look at them like they're from another planet (you thinking 'I'd ride my bike any day if it meant not waking up on Sunday with a brain mashing hangover - EVERY weekend').
And it's true - triathlon is a great lifestyle and forces you to be extremely disciplined with time. I'm at the stage where life is in a pretty good routine. Week on week it's a bit of a groundhog day, but in a good way. I'm happy that I've gotten consistency with my work/training week...well, consistent. There's no questions to ask, there's no if/buts/maybes. The routine is set and it rolls on. This makes training so much easier as there is no space for even asking the question "should I go to training? do I feel like training?" I just do. Why? Because it's in the routine. Just like going to work, eating breakfast and showering before bed. It's now part of my life.
Over the past few weeks, I've realised just how important this autopilot is and these unsolicited NT remarks. Melbourne has turned on some ripping summer weather of late; I never would have thought there could ever be a downside to this, but there is - training in the heat can be a real bitch. I've written before how much I have struggled with heat in the past. Without a routine, without this autopilot, it could be very tempting to convince myself that it's OK to miss a session because it's too hot/too windy/too humid. But.....I don't. Sure it's mildly uncomfortable, some adjustments are needed to the normal nutrition plan but my thinking is you just get out and do it. The session is set for a reason; come race day, you can't choose what weather is given so training in whatever is thrown at you not only makes you a stronger athlete but a better prepared one.
The NTs (and sometimes, the Ts) will say they can't believe so-and-so went and rode in whatever conditions were present. But these are the exact conditions we should train in; they prepare us for the worst so, come race day, we are equipped to handle whatever conditions are thrown our way. And that is why routine is so important - to improve performance through consistent training and prepare us for racing in every condition.
Adopting this attitude requires a certain focus - a goal that sits in your mind, every day, demanding your attention. I am a firm believer that, deep down, we all know what we are capable of - but the catch is you must know yourself first in order to know the answer to this question. There are things that I know I am not capable of, but there are things that I deeply believe I can achieve. And these are the goals worth pursuing, relentlessly, because the greatest disappointment in life is not fulfilling your potential.
And if you ever feel any doubt about that - go and tell an NT you race triathlons. They'll remind you that you're awesome :)
"The greatest battle is not the physical but the psychological. The demons telling us to give up when we push ourselves to the limit can never be silenced for good. They must always be answered by the quiet, the steady, dignity that simply refuses to give in.
Courage. We all suffer. Keep going"
(Graeme Fife)
I never get tired of the awe in NT's voices (and sometimes the undertones of "you nut bag, why on earth would you waste weekends like that?!") when they find out you race in triathlons, because it is the dose of reality-checking you need when you are caught up in the "world". You can get so immersed in training (was it a good session? bad? were you tired/dehydrated/on pace/under speed), critiquing everything you do, meticulously planning your swim/bike/run/eat/sleep/repeat and race schedule, wondering if you should think about a new frame/new helmet/new wheels/new aero hydration system (don't laugh, we have all thought about it) that sometimes you can forget the very fact we are involved with the sport is a pretty amazing accomplishment in itself.
You laugh off these comments by saying things like it's-no-big-deal-its-a-lifestyle etc, the NTs look at you like you're from another planet (their minds thinking 'how can riding a bike with those skinny little wheels and skinny little seats be a lifestyle?') and you look at them like they're from another planet (you thinking 'I'd ride my bike any day if it meant not waking up on Sunday with a brain mashing hangover - EVERY weekend').
And it's true - triathlon is a great lifestyle and forces you to be extremely disciplined with time. I'm at the stage where life is in a pretty good routine. Week on week it's a bit of a groundhog day, but in a good way. I'm happy that I've gotten consistency with my work/training week...well, consistent. There's no questions to ask, there's no if/buts/maybes. The routine is set and it rolls on. This makes training so much easier as there is no space for even asking the question "should I go to training? do I feel like training?" I just do. Why? Because it's in the routine. Just like going to work, eating breakfast and showering before bed. It's now part of my life.
Over the past few weeks, I've realised just how important this autopilot is and these unsolicited NT remarks. Melbourne has turned on some ripping summer weather of late; I never would have thought there could ever be a downside to this, but there is - training in the heat can be a real bitch. I've written before how much I have struggled with heat in the past. Without a routine, without this autopilot, it could be very tempting to convince myself that it's OK to miss a session because it's too hot/too windy/too humid. But.....I don't. Sure it's mildly uncomfortable, some adjustments are needed to the normal nutrition plan but my thinking is you just get out and do it. The session is set for a reason; come race day, you can't choose what weather is given so training in whatever is thrown at you not only makes you a stronger athlete but a better prepared one.
The NTs (and sometimes, the Ts) will say they can't believe so-and-so went and rode in whatever conditions were present. But these are the exact conditions we should train in; they prepare us for the worst so, come race day, we are equipped to handle whatever conditions are thrown our way. And that is why routine is so important - to improve performance through consistent training and prepare us for racing in every condition.
Adopting this attitude requires a certain focus - a goal that sits in your mind, every day, demanding your attention. I am a firm believer that, deep down, we all know what we are capable of - but the catch is you must know yourself first in order to know the answer to this question. There are things that I know I am not capable of, but there are things that I deeply believe I can achieve. And these are the goals worth pursuing, relentlessly, because the greatest disappointment in life is not fulfilling your potential.
And if you ever feel any doubt about that - go and tell an NT you race triathlons. They'll remind you that you're awesome :)
"The greatest battle is not the physical but the psychological. The demons telling us to give up when we push ourselves to the limit can never be silenced for good. They must always be answered by the quiet, the steady, dignity that simply refuses to give in.
Courage. We all suffer. Keep going"
(Graeme Fife)
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