Monday, August 15, 2016

Ultraman Australia 2017 - What the .... Have I Done?!

It was an email that St Pete and I had been waiting for, and here it was.  My official invitation to join 49 other like-minded crazy athletes taking on Ultraman Australia in May next year.  I had submitted my application with the same gulp moment that accompanied my first ironman entry 6 years ago, but this morning's confirmation brought nothing but excitement.  

Excitement at the opportunity to test myself.

Excitement at the opportunity to achieve what most people can't even comprehend.

Excitement at the opportunity to show that with a bit of passion, dedication and a lot of hard work it is possible to achieve the extraordinary.

Excitement at the opportunity to inspire others the way others have inspired me.

For the uninitiated, Ultraman is a 3 day stage race, kind of a double ironman over three days.  Day 1 is a 10km swim then a 140km bike, Day 2 a 280km bike and then Day 3 a double marathon.  Yep, 84km.  Each day has a 12 hour time limit (6hrs for each leg on Day 1) and, unlike ironman, in Ultraman the support crew play a critical role in the success of the athlete.  The crew accompany the athlete all through the bike and run, feeding them, fixing any problems on the bike and pacing them on the run. They pass on messages of support, speak for the athlete, make decisions and, most importantly, don't get upset when the athlete gets grumpy.  Because the athlete will get grumpy!  

The first Ultraman Triathlon was held in Hawaii in 1983, with the goal of staging an event which focused on the guiding principles of Hawaiian culture: “aloha” (love), “ohana” (family), and “kokua” (help).  And it is these principles that also make the event unique with support crews helping each other out and being there for all the athletes, not just their own.

It's an event I've been fascinated with since its introduction to Australia in 2015. I had heard of the Hawaii edition only vaguely and of course it seemed completely out of reach, but I sat up and took notice when a Kiwi friend Debi and her partner John took it on in 2015. 2015 also marked the year pro triathlete Kate Bevilaqua won outright the Canadian version of the event.  That's right - the outright winner!  Girls can do anything :). And then this year another friend Mel successfully completed it, her second Ultraman after doing Canada a couple of years ago.

So I suddenly had all of these "normal" people around me that were taking it on and it wasn't long before I was starting to weigh up the possibilities.  I can do a 10km swim in less than 6 hours - I did the 100 x 100s last year.  The bike wouldn't be a problem and the run?  Well, there's got to be part of it that scares you!  But when my head started telling me that each day would be shorter than my typical ironman day I knew I was in trouble.  I couldn't go past that "perfect" logic and so St Pete soon had Irongirl talking about her next big goal.

So the planning began and until now it's been all about the coach.  And this is where my new coach comes in. Despite the logic that's reassured me I'm not completely crazy applying in the first place I know this event is going to be a big ask.  As far as extending myself it's another ironman-like leap into the unknown and I came to the conclusion early on that I needed to have a coach that knows the event inside out - who I can trust completely to know that I'm on the right track during the low point(s) of my training.  And with Craig Percival of No Limits Endurance I've got that - his record of Ultraman finishers is about as good as it comes and he's a two time Ultraman finisher himself.  As he said - he knows how it feels 70km into the run.

So there we have it - my next big adventure.  Noosa, 13-15 May 2017.  This is going to be one hell of a journey!

But first, an Ironman to tick off with the bionic knee.  Next up remains Ironman Western Australia in December.

Monday, July 25, 2016

Breaking Up is Hard to Do - A Tribute to Coach

Ironman New Zealand 2011
Since my accident in January I've had a lot of down time in recovery and recuperation and a lot of time to think.

Some would say too much time!

What it's done though is allow me to think about my goals, hopes and aspirations for the future.  10 ironmans down - rudely interrupted while preparing for number 11 - is no mean feat.  But is that all I'm destined for?  Is iron distance racing going to be my sole focus for the next 20 years?

Hell no.

My current goal of 10 Ironman New Zealand finishes (legend status) remains but there are a whole world of challenges out there that excite (and scare) me in the same way my first ironman did.  And with St Pete's support I'm setting my sights on one for 2017.  What is it?  Well that's for another blog post.

This blog entry is all about paying tribute to Coach Dave Dwan and his Team Evolve. And I'm doing that because my new challenge on the horizon meant that I recently made the logical but very difficult decision to break up with Dave as my coach.  The logical side I'll also cover at another time.  Today, though it's all about expressing my thanks and appreciation for Dave and the guidance and support he's provided over the six years we have been working together. The part that made this decision so very difficult.

Ironman World Champs, Kona, 2014
We first met in March 2010.  I was enthusiastic about this desire to give ironman a go but with no idea how to go about it or even if I had the ability to do it.  The idea excited and terrified me in equal measure but Dave took me under his wing and guided me through that first ironman so successfully that I became hooked on the sport and the lifestyle.

Over the next five years St Pete and I built a strong partnership with D and through that I successfully completed another 9 ironman races, including the experience of a lifetime, the world champs in Kona.  A 100% success rate at ironman events is one of my proudest achievements and D had a big hand in that - making sure my body was handling the training load and my head was handling race day highs and lows.

As a coach I couldn't have asked for more - the unwavering support when I had doubts, the willingness to talk and get to the bottom of my biggest fears, Dave didn't just email through a program. He was a sounding board, mentor, cheerleader and friend - qualities that go way past the technical expertise required for the job.

Ironman Western Australia - Busselton, 2015
And finally, his most important contribution - and which ironically has led to my decision to move away for this next project - was to give me the confidence to aim higher and to challenge myself with something bigger.  Without the experience of the last 6 years I would never have considered myself even slightly capable of taking on what I soon hope to.

And for that I'll always appreciate and value the role Dave has played. His baby athlete has grown up, found her wings and is now ready to soar from the nest.

Will I be back?  I don't know. But I do know to never say never, and whatever happens, in Dave's own wise words, life unfolds as it should.

This isn't an end but it is a new beginning.  Thanks D for the part you've played in my journey so far - you've been the best coach an irongirl could have and I wouldn't have changed a thing.

Friday, March 4, 2016

Ironman New Zealand 2016 - Sh*t Happens

First of all, a disclaimer.  If you've found this post as the result of a Google or other internet search, in a quest for a race report on Ironman New Zealand, you've come to the wrong place.  But don't worry, your search has not been a complete waste.  If you're not fussy about years, I can give you plenty of reports on this wonderful event in a special part of the world.  If that's what you want, try my race reports from 2011, 2012, 2013, 2014 or 2015.

This post, although titled Ironman New Zealand 2016, is more about the lemons life sometimes throws you and a reminder that, above all else, what happens to you is not important.  What's important is how you react to it and being thankful for the silver linings.

Because there are always silver linings.

2016 was to have been my 6th time at Ironman New Zealand, starting the homeward journey to legend status at this event (10 IMNZ finishes required), and 11th ironman overall.  However on 31 January 2016 life decided to throw me a curveball and so, as the race unfolds tomorrow in beautiful Taupo, I will be at home in Sydney, streaming it live and cheering on all my friends, while nursing a busted up leg.

Yep, shit happens.

The story starts 5 weeks ago.  I was into my final big block of training and 5km into a 120km TT ride when fate intervened.  It was early morning and, with the sun in his eyes, a driver made a split second error of judgement and failed to give way to me, making a right hand turn across the road into a driveway.  I was in aero, doing about 28kmph, watching him approach from the other direction.   As I rode I kept watching, looking for indications that he had seen me as he slowed down and pulled into the right hand turn lane.  I was in a bike lane, he was turning into a driveway and simply needed to stop for 5 seconds while I passed.  However, just as I was virtually parallel to him, he accelerated to complete the turn, by which time I had nowhere to go and no time to stop.  The front of the vehicle hit me side on, Black Beauty sliding under the vehicle as he screeched to a stop.  Thankfully I somehow unclipped from the bike and went over the bonnet, landing on the road a couple of metres away.

The pain in both my knees hit me instantly and I was stopped dead on the ground, breathing hard through the intense pain and wishing like hell the adrenaline would kick in quicker.  Almost immediately there were people around me, stopping to help, including Alice, who would stay by my side, directing the others to find blankets for me, keeping me still, talking to me and not letting me close my eyes.  As I was perched on the ground I could see Black Beauty on her side, under the wheels of the SUV, and I was immediately thankful for the first silver lining of the day.

Much as I loved her, I was so glad it was Black Beauty under there rather than me.

A quick phone call to Pete was in order, giving him the news that no triathlete's or cyclist's partner wants to hear, that I had been hit by a car.  As I lay on the ground, looking at Black Beauty still under the car, I promised my saint that I was "OK", (well, OK enough to speak rationally to him and convince him that he didn't need to try and get out to the accident scene - made more difficult given I had taken the car), and this brought about the second and third silver linings of the day.

Yes, my face was fine (not smashed up) and not much in the way of gravel rash, including none on the hands for this non-glove wearer when TT riding. My knees definitely took the fall on this one!

The phone, that had been in the FuelCell on the bike, came through completely unscathed.  Big ups to its LifeProof case!

It was established early on that I had a significant laceration to my left knee but everyone was also concerned about any spinal injuries or concussion. And so when the ambulance arrived it was all about pain relief (which also helped the shaking I was doing now that the shock had set in) and putting me into a neck brace and onto a spinal board for the trip to hospital.
Drugs had kicked in - getting bored with the phone!

Once in hospital I had a full assessment - x-rays to check for broken bones and spinal damage and neurological tests to check for concussion.  By this stage Alice had gone and found the car and brought it and the wrecked bike to the hospital, and found Pete, who had also made his way to the hospital.  She had gone above and beyond that day and I will always be grateful to her and the others who stopped to help a fellow cyclist by the side of the road.

Alice is racing Ironman New Zealand tomorrow - her first ironman and hopefully the first of many!

After all the tests came back it looked like the main concern was the laceration to the knee.  So the ED Registrar stitched me up and sent me home with scripts for painkillers and instructions to see my GP on Tuesday for a follow up and to check they hadn't missed anything....hmmm...if only they knew what they missed!  But no matter, more silver linings were all we could think of at the time.

No broken bones, no concussion.
Before ...
...and after. The Registrar's handy work.

At that point and for the next 24 hours my spirits were pretty high.  Yes, the next morning I literally knew what it felt like "to be hit by a bus", as the bruising started making itself felt - everywhere.  But there was still 5 weeks to IMNZ and if the stitched knee was the only thing I needed to worry about then there was every chance I could still make the start line - even if it was minus the final solid set of training.  And even though it was unlikely Black Beauty would be travelling anywhere soon, I already had the alternative worked out.  My trusty Avanti, who had seen me through my first couple of years of ironman, could easily be set up again to make the trip.

IM #11 was not yet derailed.

By the time I went to my GP on Tuesday, though, a small red flag was waving.  My right knee, which had been virtually ignored by the hospital, was giving me grief big time.  While I could walk on it, any twisting caused intense pain and a feeling that it would give way.  Something wasn't right and my GP immediately sent me off for an MRI.  She knew what I was up against - she had already felt it necessary to tell me to stay out of the pool until the stitches were out!  And while I waited until the end of the week for the results to come through I was crossing my fingers that the results would simply show a bad wrenching of the knee that we could intensively rehab over the coming weeks.  That optimism was buoyed by the fact that walking did seem to improve slightly over the next few days - surely that meant it was getting better?

My world came crashing down, though, that next visit when my GP's first words were "it's not good unfortunately".  While I hadn't broken any bones I had instead managed to tear or partially tear three of the four ligaments in my knee.  The ACL (anterior cruciate ligament) was gone, the PCL (posterior cruciate ligament) was partially torn and the MCL (medial collateral ligament, the ligament that runs down the inside of the knee) was torn.

There was no way around it - Ironman New Zealand was out.

An immediate referral to a surgeon was the next step and while the tissue box took a hammering the next couple of days I immediately looked to take something positive out of the situation.  I didn't know much about ligament injuries but knew that ACL tears tend to require surgery and a pretty significant rehab time.  The ligament can't just be sutured together, rather it needs to be reconstructed, commonly via a transplant from the hamstring.  However more than just the ACL was involved here and I really didn't know what to think, but needed to take some positive action in the meantime. And that first focus was sorting out my ironman entry.

Thanks to a new initiative being piloted by Ironman Asia Pacific, I was able to transfer my New Zealand entry fee to Ironman Western Australia  in December and so this became my new focus.  My surgeon didn't yet know it but he would have a deadline and I would do everything I could to be able to get to the start line.

15 days after the accident I was sitting in Dr Robert Molnar's rooms while he and his intern pored over the MRI scans and examined the state of both my knees.  The verdict was a bitter pill to swallow.  I had definitely made a mess of my right knee and he was able to confirm the original report of full tears to the ACL and MCL and a partial tear to the PCL.  In fact he wasn't sure how I was managing to walk on the leg at all.  I guess my fitness and strength were carrying me through.  Even worse, was his caution about Ironman Western Australia.

"I don't know if 10 months is going to be long enough to get you ready to run the marathon" is not something this irongirl was interested in hearing.  "What if I walk it?" was my response.  "I don't care if I get to the start of the marathon and have to walk most of it - I just need this goal to be able to focus on."  Hmm, determined, much?!

Not only this, though, there was his view about the MCL repair.  Apparently there is a window of about 2 weeks in order to successfully repair it.  And here we were, 2 weeks and 1 day post-accident.  With no time on our side, he disappeared out the room to see what could be done.  5 minutes (and a couple of tissues) later his nurse comes in, exclaiming that "this must be important, he normally wouldn't do this".  Schedules had been pushed aside and I was booked into surgery 48 hours later for a multi-ligament knee reconstruction.

Whoa - wasn't expecting that.

The next couple of days were chaotic.  It would be fair to say that no one was accustomed to planning for surgery this quickly outside an emergency department, including the driver's insurance company who were supposedly paying for this.  While they complained about not having enough time to approve the claim, and refused to do so in time, we resigned ourselves to having the surgery delayed a week. However Dr Molnar wasn't keen on delaying and after much mucking around I was finally wheeled into surgery, as planned, on Wednesday evening, 17 February - 17 days post-accident.
Day 1 post-surgery - the only way now is up.

So here I now am, just over 2 weeks after surgery - an operation that required 3 hours under the knife to fix what was apparently quite a mess in there.  I have a leg brace I call Boris that is my constant companion until the end of this month and several months of rehab in front of me in order to regain mobility and strength in my right leg and then the fitness and endurance that I am currently losing slowly but surely.

I haven't been able to take part in Ironman New Zealand this year and that was the most upsetting news to deal with (even more than the accident itself).  But once I came through the surgery all of that disappointment left me and my mindset switched.  My whole focus is, and can only be, on recovery and rehabilitation and successfully getting myself back to the ironman start line, whether it be Western Australia in December or New Zealand next March (Dr Molnar's preference for me).

And while there are plenty of lemons in this story and plenty of reasons for tears, the silver linings far outweigh them all.  Besides those I've already listed above:
  • It didn't happen just before Kona.  My once in a lifetime Kona dream didn't get derailed and so even if the worst case scenario happens, and I end up not completing another ironman, my Kona finish will always be with me, as will all 10 ironman finishes.  That is far from being a likely scenario at the moment though.
  • The driver admitted liability straight away.  Yes he made a mistake, but he stayed around after the accident and admitted liability to the cops at the outset.  We've been in touch since and he's apologised profusely, which is never easy to do, and so I feel no bitterness towards him.
  • The driver was fully insured.  His motor vehicle insurance should replace the bike and his compulsory third party insurance is covering my medical costs.  Imagine if he had been driving an unregistered, uninsured car.
  • I'm still here to tell the story.   It could have been much, much worse and this, by far, is the most important silver lining.
Ultimately this should simply be a small hiccup along my ironman journey.  A journey that is far from dull and never predictable.  And for that I am truly grateful.

Yes, shit happens to all of us.  But part of the trick to getting through this life happy is rolling with the punches and getting back up again.  Whether it's looking for the positives, or learning from the experience, it's all about how you choose to react to the shit that gets thrown at you.

And whether it be in December this year or March next year, I plan to deal with this shit by doing everything I can to race again.

Wednesday, December 9, 2015

Ironman Western Australia 2015 - A milestone is reached.

"Sorry D - There's no technique happening here."

This was my silent message to coach as I swam, or was that bashed, my way through what was supposed to be an idyllic swim around the historic Busselton Jetty in the 2015 edition of  Ironman Western Australia.  My 10th ironman and you'd think by now I had experienced it all.

As if.

This was our first time to "Busso" and I was excited to be sharing the week with St Pete and the rest of the crew from Team Evolve in Christchurch - Greg, Marie and of course Coach Dave.  We had flown in the weekend before and spent an idyllic 7 days exploring the region and putting the final touches on our prep for the race (a.k.a. drinking lots of coffee, doing the odd swim, bike and run, and generally putting our feet up!).

St Pete had been tracking the weather forecast for race day and it looked a bit wet but it was something I wasn't interested in focusing on. After all, you can't control the uncontrollable and you've just got to deal with the conditions handed to you.  And hey, this is Western Australia in December - practically the middle of summer!  Plus we'd had beautiful weather all week - what could go wrong?

Our race director, however, wasn't so blasé. 

At the welcome dinner we had an update from him and it's never good when they start talking about contingency plans for the swim!  30-40kmph SW winds were forecast (plus rain) and so we were shown the alternative swim course should it be too rough to let us go around the jetty.  This course would be a triangle to the north of the jetty, using the structure to shelter us.  And if it was too bad to swim then they would cancel the swim leg and we'd be doing a bike/run only.  The only thing to do then was trust in the swim course director - they would make the call at sunrise and place the buoys accordingly.

Race morning: 3.00am alarm and I lie awake listening to the downpour outside.  Drat, we're in for a bit of a wet day by the sounds of things...

Undeterred though, we all head down and it's heartening to have the rain stopped by the time we get into transition to do final checks on our bikes.  At sunrise the buoys go out on the course and it doesn't look too bad out there.  The original course around the jetty is set up and by 5.30am we are wetsuited up, saying our final goodbyes to supporters and heading down to the water.  

The swim course at Busso has to be the easiest to navigate on the ironman circuit.  The jetty itself is 1.8km long (its claim to fame is as the longest wooden piled jetty in the Southern Hemisphere) and so you literally swim around it, keeping it on your left all the way.  With a slight right hand bend in it as well, all we had to do was stand on the beach and line up the far end of the jetty, swim towards it and then go around the two turn buoys, each located about 50m out from the end of it, 200m apart.

The start gun went off and we had the usual mass start chaos while we all found our space and settled into actual swimming.  After around 400m I was in a happy spot - I had found some feet to follow and had stopped needing to elbow and generally push people off me.  Despite the recent rain and generally grey day the water was still crystal clear and would be all the way round and so it was cool to look at the ocean floor below and spot the fish life, including a stingray as we swam.

As we headed out it started getting noticeably rougher, but nothing too concerning.  The swell was coming from the south (left hand side) and I had to start changing my breathing to one side. Surprisingly, though, if I breathed away from the swell I was invariably getting a mouthful of water and so I actually ended up breathing towards the swell. (I think what was happening is that I was able to better time my breaths for the top of a wave by turning towards it, whereas when I turned away I invariably ended up not timing it so well, because I couldn't see the wave coming, and so would end up getting a mouthful of water).

We made good progress to the end of the jetty - despite the waves it was easy sighting and once we got to the end we finally saw the first purple turn buoy.  At that point everyone converged again and I lost the feet I was following, however that would be the least of my worries.

As I turned around the buoy and started heading towards the second turn buoy it was like I had suddenly turned into a raging storm.  The wind was coming straight at us, the waves were coming straight at us and sea spray was being blown off the tops of the waves.  It would have been an impressive sight if I didn't have to swim through it!  

Undeterred however, I carried on.  There were swim caps around me and that provided plenty of reassurance that I was doing OK.  At the second turn buoy, and over half way, I took my first glance at my watch - 42 minutes.  Wicked - on track for sub 1:30 and I was more than happy with that.

Except the wind gods had other ideas.

Heading back down the south side of the jetty We got to experience the full effects of the sou'wester coming through and I suddenly realised how much shelter the jetty had been providing us on the other side!  Heading home became a bash fest as I tried to go with the swell and chop as much as possible while maintaining some semblance of forward motion.  All technique went out the window (sorry coach!) and one-sided breathing continued to be the order of the day, except this time I had to switch to the sheltered side to breathe.  There was no way I could get away with trying to breathe towards the wind - it was blowing water straight into my face that side.  Following feet also became a challenge. I'd latch onto a pair and then they'd suddenly disappear as they or I got swept in a different direction by the turbulent waters.  In the end it took 8 minutes longer to do the shorter return leg and I finally got out of the water at 1:32.  Middle of my age group though and, considering the conditions, I was super happy with it.

At the awards dinner the following evening the swim course director would describe the swim leg as the toughest in the 12 years of this race and 47 people would either pull out or not make the intermediate swim cut off (at the end of the jetty).


Out of T1 then and it was time to take on the bike course.  2 laps of flat roads and I had coach's words ringing in my ears.

Be patient.

The winds were still up and so I knew we would be in for challenging conditions - and I wasn't disappointed.  What I hadn't counted on, though, was how tired my shoulders would be from the swim.  They had taken a hammering and they had no problems telling me so as soon as I started settling into aero.  The first 10km out of town, though, was a good time to let things settle down, stay patient, and get some calories in.  We had a tailwind going out and so I made the most of it and posted a good split without going too mad.

The design of the course is such that there are a stack of out and back sections and all pretty much in line with the day's winds.  So I had the reassurance of knowing that if things were going hard one way I'd be able to recover a bit as soon as we started going the other way.  Being a flat course also had its benefits (and downsides).  No hills to contend with (yippee), but no respite from being down in aero either.  That was OK though - I had trained for it and was surprised at the number of people I would see up on the bars, obviously needing to give their backs a bit of a break.

I finished the first half of the bike in 3 hours 6 minutes.  A pretty good time for the conditions and it would normally set me up nicely for a strong finish.  In the end I lost an additional 9 minutes on the second lap, and rolled into T2 with a bike split of 6:21.  I had stayed strong and steady and so wasn't unhappy with where things were at that point, but glad to have just the run left to do and 8 hours 5 minutes elapsed so far in what had been tough conditions.

As I walked out of T2 to start the run I saw St Pete and gave him a quick hug and high five as I went past, relaying my relief at getting through so far.  

Little did we know but that broad smile of mine was about to disappear down a big black hole for the next six and a half hours.

The run leg is a 4 lap out and back course along the Busselton waterfront.  Flat terrain and plenty of opportunities for crowd support all along the way.  My plan was to take it steady, start out easy and settle into a good rhythm that I could maintain to the end.  Ideally I would only be walking through the aid stations and running the rest of the distance.

At just over 8 hours I knew my "A" goal of a sub-13 hour finish was going to be touch and go.  My best IM marathons had been 5:19-5:31 but they were on undulating/hilly courses (NZ and Kona).  My fresh marathon PB is 4:28 and so on a good day it was theoretically possible on this flat course.  I was determined not to stress about it though - focus on getting into a steady rhythm and just take it one aid station at a time and see how it plays out.

Unfortunately, though, it wasn't to be and the wheels started falling off pretty dramatically from the start.

I didn't panic initially - I knew that I always took a good 5km to get going properly and so during the first lap I stayed patient and did a bit of walking, a bit of running, took in watermelon and Endura at the aid stations to keep the hydration up, and waited to come right.

And waited.

And waited.

By the time I got onto my second lap I pretty much knew the day was over.  I was walking more than I was running and getting frustrated with my inability to get going.  At the end of the second lap I took a couple of minutes on the sidelines to regroup with St Pete (a first) and then got going again.  During the third lap I could also feel that my stomach was starting to shut down and so tried to be a bit more selective about the nutrition I took on board.  Less of the watermelon, less water, less Endura - the wind was also pretty chilly in places and with me walking more than I was running I didn't want to fall into the trap of over hydration alongside a lower sweat rate.

At the beginning of the 4th and final lap St Pete suggested I try some cola at the next aid station and so I duly took a sip....and instantly regretted it.

A wave of nausea washed over me and next thing I was bent over by the side of the course wanting desperately to throw up, but not able to.  (Another first!)  After a couple of minutes I got going again but it must have been painful for St Pete to watch - I was not in a happy place at all and, for the first time ever, was questioning the continuation of my ironman career. Yep, it was that bad.

Despite my doldrums though, there was never any question of giving up.  I had time and managed to summons the energy to run the last 500m to the finish, crossing the line in 14:34:59.

For this event we had decided to try out a new initiative offered by Ironman, their VIP Finish Line Experience.  For this, Pete got to wait for me behind the finish line and present me with my medal and towel.  Given the day I had just been through I couldn't think of a more welcome sight to have when I crossed that finish line - in fact he was more important to me at that point than the day's women's pro winner, Sarah Piampiano, who was also standing there handing out medals to finishers!

So, Ironman #10 done, and the sea conditions, nausea and run ensured a completely different experience to the previous 9.  Who would have thought that possible???

Do I know what happened out there (apart from having a shocking run)?  No.  But that is one of the joys of the sport - the endless quest to solve the mysteries and never knowing what's going to get thrown at you next.  The next few days will be spent reflecting and analysing parts of the race with Coach Dave and trying to piece together the vital missing element(s).  Whether it was the prep, the saltwater/sea conditions, the nutrition or some other as yet unidentified issue, the analyst in me won't rest until I come up with some  semi-logical explanation.

And then we'll be working at putting that particular issue to rest so that it has less chance of impacting my next race - Ironman New Zealand 2016.  

Yep, I still have a sub-13 hour finish in my sights and the desire to never do another ironman didn't last long!  Plus there's definitely unfinished business with Busso...

Sunday, September 6, 2015

Coastal Classic - Shut up Legs!

Well that was an experience and a half!  Very glad to be done and what a tough day.

I have had the Coastal Classic on my radar for a couple of years.  Our first experience of the Coastal Track in the Royal National Park was about three years ago with Northside Running Group (NRG) when we had an away run for those who were training for the Coastal Classic.  It was a long training day for we back of the packers, taking over 5 hours to do a shorter version of the track (missing out a 4km loop at the end).  But the scenery and terrain was fantastic and the event itself sounded like a great one to do. The event tended to sell out very quickly each year, though, so I knew I'd need to plan well ahead if I was ever going to give it a go.  

In training: This is what happens when
you don't pay attention to the track...
This year presented that opportunity.  With an extended break over winter, between ironmans, the Coastal Classic came up on my radar.  I could do some trail running over winter in preparation and then the event was timed perfectly for the start of focused build up for IM Western Australia (Busso).

So the entry was done and training began. Trail running was a whole new experience and it was good to get out and challenge my legs with something new - and more difficult. You can't relax on a trail run - it requires 100% concentration all the way.

Anticipating the ground ahead, looking out for tree roots, loose rocks, camouflaged tree stumps hidden in the ground. But hard is good and the strength and balance required to successfully negotiate the single trail will hopefully stand me in good stead for Busso.

Race day arrived and it was an easy train trip down to the start at Otford.  St Pete farewelled me at Cronulla Station - he would take the ferry over to Bundeena where the finish was and was volunteering at the finish line.  

If I was lucky he'd be there to give me my medal.  From Cronulla I changed trains at Sutherland for the southbound train to Otford.  It was packed with runners and while several had to stand in the carriage for the 30 minute journey I was lucky enough to snag a seat opposite a girl with an Ironman 70.3 Worlds backpack.  It was great passing some of the time sharing stories with a fellow triathlete.

We arrive at Otford and make our way to the school where the start and registration areas are.  I registered and got ready, feeling pretty relaxed and ready for whatever the day was going to bring.  I had my running pack with water in the bladder, some chopped up dehydrated bananas, a piece of banana/carrot loaf and some chocolate covered coconut pieces.  Hopefully this would be all good to see me through to the end.
We were started off in pairs at 5 second intervals which was a good way to thin the field out and there was a climb for the first 500m up to the road and onto the track which also helped spread people out.  Once we got onto the track however there were still bottlenecks  for probably the first 5-6km.  You'd have single file lines walking up the climbs and then also the descents as there was no real opportunity to pass and, with 20-30 in a line, there wasn't much point.  So it was an easy/steady pace to begin with and I was happy with that - it was a good opportunity to warm up and I didn't want to go nuts anyway.  Everyone was in a buoyant mood and at one point one guy just ahead of me passed the comment "at least it's too cold for the snakes" ... turns out he spoke too soon!

The trail was pretty uneventful until around 22km in. Really nice single track - yes, technical, and looking more at the ground than the scenery, but every so often you'd get to glance at the surrounds and appreciate the area we were in.  I was walking the hills (as was everyone!) and had been taking in the bananas I had on me and had half a fresh banana at the 10km aid station.  
Nice snake....
(pic courtesy

The fun began at around the 20-22km mark.  First there was the snake.. We had just come up a rise when we saw a bunch of people standing around with cameras out taking photos.  OK, something interesting here I thought, and stopped to see what all the fuss was  about.  There, on the side of the track was this beautiful brown snake, head up looking at everyone, and everyone keeping their distance!  It was an Eastern Brown Snake, evidently common in these parts, but the second most venomous land snake in the world.  Not surprisingly, no one was game to just pass it on the path and so we proceeded to bush-bash a route around it, giving it a very wide berth.  

At 22km the real fun began.  We were climbing a big set of steps and I suddenly came to a screeching halt.  Cramp.  Standing frozen, in the middle of this set of stairs, my quads plus inner thighs decided they were done for the moment. I stood aside to let people get by me while I tried to ease it out and hobbled along slowly thinking it was going to be a slow trip home!  After a couple of minutes I'd gingerly start jogging again, but I could feel the seizing of my muscles ready to let rip at any moment.  Quads, hamstrings, shins, toes.  My legs were on an absolute knife edge, telling me in no uncertain terms that I had taken them to their limit and they had had enough, thank you very much.  Great.

Soon after I was buoyed by the appearance of an aid station.  This was an extra stop (7km from the finish), which hadn't been marked in our race info - but I wasn't complaining! As one of the volunteers topped up my water I told her about my cramps and she pointed me in the direction of the potato chips (salt). I grabbed a big handful and scoffed them down as I continued walking a bit and they were enough to get me running again. At the next and final aid station (4km from the end) I grabbed another handful of potato chips and they kept me going to the finish.  

It would be fair to say my legs were completely shagged though and I was comparing the experience to an ironman run.  Definitely harder - I couldn't zone out and go into ironman shuffle mode as you still had to watch where you were putting your feet. Rocks, sand, mud, tree roots - there was no relaxing!  

The final kilometre was along (yet another) beach and I was running reasonably close to the waterline to get the firmer sand.  The tide was coming in and so periodically there would be a wave come in ... and I couldn't be bothered getting out of the way, so ended up running through the water several times and getting sand all through my shoes.

Wet, sandy shoes.

It was a great feeling leaving the beach finally and coming along the road for the final stretch.  One of the best feelings was having a guy roadside give me a high five and saying "just 150 metres and one corner to go" - how good was that to hear!  I rounded that last corner and it was a blissfully short run on the grass to the finish chute where I saw St Pete on the other side, medals in hand and ready to catch me, 4:44:44 after starting.  And yep, he did almost have to catch me!  It would be fair to say my legs were pretty cooked.  
St Pete manning the finish line.

My report to coach that night included this: I'll be even happier when my legs stop sulking (a.k.a. cramping). Yikes - sitting on the couch with my feet up but if I sit too long and then go to move my legs they start cramping big time.  Quads, shins, feet, toes - I'm having to do slow laps up and down the hallway to try and settle them down.  

So what caused the cramping?  Was it a lack of sodium or just exhaustion in the muscles?  Normally on extended events I would have electrolyte fluids however this time around it was just a bladder with water in it.  And the salty chips possibly made a difference.  However the current research into cramping points toward it being a short circuiting of the muscle fibres in conditions of exhaustion. The current thinking is that the ingestion of salt probably just tricks the brain into relaxing the muscles (see this link for a better explanation: So it would seem more logical that I had well and truly found the limit in my legs at that point, however that didn't stop me from getting stuck into the salty chips!

Just to put it all in perspective, though, I had done a bike ride the weekend before and thought it was reasonably hilly with almost 970m of climbing over a distance of 65km.  The Coastal Classic, however, came up with just under 850m elevation gain over a distance of 29km.  That's a lot of climbing in less than half the distance.

No wonder my legs aren't talking to me...

Wednesday, May 13, 2015

What I Did on my Holiday


OK, it wasn't so much of a thwack, as a silent appearance on my computer screen.  It was my new training program from Coach Dave.

It was like the end of the summer holidays and Day 1 of school - and my "textbook" for the coming months had just landed in my inbox, arriving with a satisfied thump and returning me back to irongirl normality.

Ironman New Zealand 2015 - Race Report

Ironman #9 was about to start and I had a plan.  In fact I had two plans.

Plan A?  A finish time starting with a 12.  I am the proud owner of a set of finish times starting with 16, 15, 14 and 13.  Now I want a 12 and this was going to be the race in which to go for it.

Except my body had other ideas.