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.

Recovery Post-Kona - The Longest Ever?

This tweet popped up on my feed about three weeks ago and what a welcome sight it was!  

I knew that I would need to take time to recover from Kona ... and three ironmans in one year ... 

But I didn't expect to still be actively managing my fatigue levels into January.  

KONA 2014 - Who's Silly Idea Was it to Move House?

...oh, that's right, me.

And St Pete.

But I was definitely a willing participant in that decision and over the past couple of weeks that decision would come back to bite me big time as moving preparations and big training blocks succeeded in bringing me to my psychological limits.  As usual, though, it provided me with a valuable learning opportunity.

Learning about what I need, personally, in order to function.

Coach Dave has set a good system for my Kona build up.  It's been a series of two week blocks - each block themed around wind trainer, swim and run in turn.  During those blocks I'd therefore have double sets of each.  So during the wind trainer weeks I'd have, say, Tuesday and Thursday with wind trainer sets to do in the morning and again in the evening.  Same for the swim block and same for the run block.

They've been going pretty well apart from a couple of hiccups.  Towards the end of the swim block I started to get a cold and so spent around a week managing that and not overdoing things, and managed to come out the other end pretty well.  I had a few days with no energy and so spent a bit of time looking at the training program and sacrificing the lesser sessions in order to rest and be able to continue with the more important sessions.  A pretty minor dose of the virus in the scheme of things which compromised the beginning of the run block but working with the mantra of "progress, not perfection" I knew long term that it would be OK.

But then I hit some additional road bumps.  During my second run week, I was supposedly close to full energy again but started finding myself not coping with little things.  St Pete started copping it as I went from zen-like athlete to emotional 13 year old (or that's what it felt like!).  I'd be on the brink of tears over the tiniest little thing and I later described it as like being on a knife edge.

It forced me to take a step back and try to figure out what was going wrong.  I normally handle pressure and stress fine and sail through tough situations like a ship on the ocean.  What was different this time?

As I looked back on the last week I honed in on the problem.

I wasn't getting enough down time and this wasn't just about physical downtime - it was the mental downtime as well that was suffering.

With the impending house move we had a whole stack of things to discuss, decide and act on.  St Pete was managing a lot of it but I was far from disengaged from the process and so the mental stimulation and physical stimulation combined was pushing me to extremes.  I was also in a run block and, with it, run sets morning and afternoon, which I find challenging at the best of times.

So a combination of the physical stress from the hard training week, plus the mental stress from organising the house move, combined to turn me into what felt like a large piece of crystal - ready to fracture as soon as things got a bit hot.

To fix this it turned out that the best remedy to put me back on the right track was a simple one....we went shopping!

We had set aside a Saturday where I had a long run and swim to do but also needed to go furniture shopping.  So we decided to do the run early and then go do the shopping and plan to swim in the afternoon/early evening. As it turned out we ended up out shopping all day, did all we wanted to do but ran out of time to swim.

But that was OK.  After getting the run out of the way we forgot about training for the day and just focused on one thing - the house move.  The next morning I woke up feeling back to my normal calm state and, as we headed down to Cronulla for my bike set, I remember saying to St Pete that I was feeling much more zen.  And he had noticed it too.

Looking back on those couple of weeks it made me realise that recovery time for me isn't just resting on the couch.  While that is really important it's become less crucial as my fitness has improved (i.e. I'm no longer needing afternoon naps!).  But what remains crucial for me is that quiet time where I get to mentally recharge and gain energy again.

So girls, if you're finding the going has got tough and you are at your limits, here's your answer.

Go shopping!

Childhood Memories

This weekend has been a time of reliving childhood memories.

Winter has arrived in Sydney and, with it, icy cold temperatures and rain.   OK, it's not snowing like it has been in old hometown Christchurch, but it does feel like those antarctic winds have come straight across the Tasman courtesy of Aotearoa.

As a result Coach Dave's suggestion that I do an easy 30 minute run on Saturday and a social 60 minute ride today (plus a swim or two) were set to be more challenging than usual.  I had great plans and when a work colleague mentioned on Friday night that she was running over to our side of the city on Saturday I immediately roped her into the idea of tacking on an additional 30 minutes onto her run.  She could run to our place and then we'd do a social 30 minutes back across the bridge with her.

Perfect.

Until Saturday morning dawned and, with it, an antarctic chill and black skies.  By 7.00am St Pete and I had been unceremoniously dumped as running partners in favour of the warm and dry gym.

Undaunted, we headed out ready to enjoy the fresh air and whatever weather Mother Nature decided to throw at us.

And so I relived a favourite childhood memory - biking home from school in the rain.  Kawerau, the small town in the Bay of Plenty where I grew up, is set in a valley that gives it a sub-tropical climate and tropical-style downpours.  My mode of transport to school, then, was by bike and if it was raining I would always try and get mum or dad to drop me off to school in the car.  Coming home, however, didn't bother me.  Strange though it may sound it was always an immensely fun experience to bike home in a downpour, getting completely drenched, knowing you could then thaw out in a nice hot shower at home.

So while we ran in the wet and cold I just kept thinking of my school experiences and the nice hot shower I was going to get when I got home!

Today provided a similar experience.  Again I had set up a buddy to join me for a social 60 minute ride to Manly for a coffee and was really looking forward to getting out on the bike without the pressure of a training plan.  The weather forecast last night, however, was looking pretty grim and, in fact, worse than what had been predicted for Saturday morning.  And on the bike I admit I am a bit more conservative when it comes to braving the Sydney traffic and slick road surface in the wet.  So a joint decision was made last night to abandon and try another day.

That was all good, until this morning.  I got up, looked out the windows and saw that, while it was wet outside, it wasn't raining....hmm.  The rain radar was consulted while breakfast was being eaten and before you know it this irongirl was hatching a plan.

I would ride to Manly (hopefully dodging the heavy rain that was heading towards us from the west - thanks again NZ!) while St Pete travelled to Manly by ferry with a change of clothes for me.  We would meet up there, I could get changed, and then we could enjoy a leisurely coffee together before taking the ferry back home.

Perfect.  And, even better, St Pete thought it was a pretty good idea too!

So, off I went.

Manly, slightly drenched...

Up to North Sydney, down Military Road and over Spit Bridge.  Up to this point the roads were wet and the sky was black. But, it wasn't raining and I was enjoying the unpressured ride.  Over Spit Bridge, climb up the other side to Seaforth and, as I get to the top, the skies opened up.

Within 10 seconds I was completely drenched.

And I mean drenched.  It rained as it only can in Sydney - it was like riding under a waterfall, and I loved every second of it!  Within seconds I was reliving my childhood memory again of riding home from school and thinking about that hot shower at the end of it all.

By the time I got to Manly it had virtually stopped raining again and within a couple of minutes St Pete had arrived and I was able to put on some dry clothes and get warm.

St Pete brings the coffee

Despite the wintery weather it was a great morning to spend out at Manly.  With coffee in one hand and home baking in the other, we sat by the beach watching the surfers test themselves in the waves.  Hydrated and fed we then took the bike for a walk around to Shelly Beach (for once, completely deserted except for one person laying out dive gear) and up to the lookout where we watched for whales and saw plenty of whale spouts and one breach!

Then it was time for a leisurely walk back to the ferry terminal and home for that hot shower of my childhood memories.

The Avanti on the ferry - ready for her easy trip home.

All up, a great way to spend a Sunday morning in the off-season and a reminder to all...don't let the bad weather put a stop to your activity.  You can't control the weather and, if you're doing an event, you have to be prepared for all conditions.  So you may as well practice in those conditions.

So get out there - dress accordingly and look for the positive in every experience.  It will only make you better!

The Best Weekend of the Year

Twas the week before ironman, and all through the house

 Irongirl was resting, her legs on the couch

Black Beauty was packed, by the Jet boys with care

In hopes that race day would be completed with flair...

It's Friday morning as I start writing this and I'm about to hit the weekend before Ironman. And I've come to the conclusion that this is the best weekend in the year.  Yes, the weekend before Ironman is even better than Ironman weekend, although that does come a pretty close second.

And for those who are facebook friends, and therefore know I'm home alone this weekend, no, it's not because St Pete has headed back to Christchurch to run the Christchurch marathon on Sunday. Shame on you all for even thinking such a thing!

The weekend before Ironman is particularly special because the training volume is down, I'm starting to feel strong, fit and ready to race, and all the fun packing stuff happens.

What also helps is that I'm no longer in that phase of freaking out about my first ironman event.  You know that feeling - asking eternal questions about whether I've done enough training; whether I'll last the distance; what will go wrong on the day and will I cope.   I've now got enough IM finishes under my belt to know what to expect on the day, understand that it's going to be a long day at the office and that there will be challenges (and pain!) to overcome, but nevertheless will still be looking forward to overcoming it all and coming across the finish line.

And that's what makes this weekend so much fun.

First of all there's not much training on.  The sessions I do have still have some intensity to them but the volume has dropped right away.  Today, nothing.  Saturday, a 1,000m time trial swim and 45min wind trainer session.  Sunday, a set of run drills, 50min tops.  It's hardly going to make a dent in my days.

Melting Marshmallows - Lush

Training-wise, then, it's all about recovery.  As much as possible I need to be putting my feet up and having some serious couch time.  It's a great time to be catching up on those books sitting on the coffee table, movies, or even a long, luxurious bath.  Mmmm, a quick trip to Lush tonight might be in order....

So serious is this recovery business that my good intentions about volunteering on Sunday at the MS Fun Run had cold water poured on it good and proper.  I saw the event come up and the call go out for volunteers a few weeks ago and realised that it was on the same day as St Pete would be running his marathon.  I figured I'll be home alone, not much training on, why not help out?  It'll be an easy way to pass some of the day and give something back to the community.

Well, was I ever wrong on that one.

St Pete thought I had gone insane even thinking about it (and told me so in no uncertain terms) and Coach Dave, normally the optimistic "make anything work" kinda guy, took a long few seconds pondering it over Skype before finally deciding that no, despite my good and honourable intentions, he couldn't make this idea work at all.  And with the final nail in the coffin from Mel who, as a race director herself, assured me that the volunteer coordinator wouldn't consider her day ruined by me pulling out, I did so, and left the day as a blank canvas.

So that brings me back to the fun weekend.

With training just a blip on the radar that leaves the packing and preparation.  Yippee - the fun stuff!  Last night Black Beauty went into Jet Cycles for her pre-Ironman service.  Tomorrow I take the bike box in and she gets packed up (they did such a great job last time I'm letting them do it again!). Wheeling her home in the box on Saturday is always a really cool thing to do - yeah, go on, I know you're thinking it....ironman geek!  It's almost as cool as wheeling her around the airport - I feel like a real athlete...haha.

And then there's the packing.  All the race gear gets assembled and laid out.  Gels get counted.  Battery chargers get put together and coiled into ziplock bags so they don't get tangled.  Spare CO2 canisters, tubes, clothing for all weather eventualities.  The gear gets left out for a day or two so I can check it against the checklist half a dozen times and then just check it visually another half dozen times while I mentally go over the course, through each transition, ensuring I have everything I could possibly need.

Finally it all gets loaded into the suitcase.  Race day gear goes into my carry-on trolley bag - all of our other gear into the suitcase.  I love this process!

IMNZ 2011

Another pre-race weekend tradition is the selection of nail polish for race day.  I'm not normally a nail polish wearer, but my good friend Ironjack started this when we did our first Ironman together in 2011, in Taupo.  She was all about wearing special nail polish on the day and so I joined in and it's carried on from there. My swim exit photo from Ironman NZ 2011 shows a bright flash of pink on my toes and catches my attention every time I look at it!  As a result every ironman now requires a special application of polish on the fingernails and toenails - the bonus being it hides my typically bruised and battered black toenails!  So another fun job this weekend will be securing a special colour to wear next weekend.

Finally there's the mental preparation.  A couple of weeks ago my training volume had peaked, I had been pushing myself hard and was sufficiently run down that I got sick.  It was only a cold, and a relatively minor hit at that.  But it was enough to put me at a low ebb in terms of feeling fit and ready to race.  As we get to this weekend, however, I've fully recovered and I can feel my mental focus enter a state of calm readiness.

Come Tuesday St Pete will have returned from smashing his marathon and we'll be getting on the plane to head to Cairns.

The weekend before Ironman - it's the best weekend of the year.

Stumbling Across Your Limits - Recognising those Junk Miles

Today Coach Dave made a rare discovery.

He finally found my limits and gave me a session to do that was a bridge too far.

My current block of training, leading up to Ironman Cairns, is all about the bike.  With Taupo out of the way for the year, and goals for that race well and truly met, the pressure is off for Cairns and I have the luxury (!) of experimenting with the race plan and trying something new.  During our Taupo de-brief I identified a prime goal for Taupo in 2014, and that is to try and crack 6 hours for the bike leg.

I've done some analysis of my relative performance in Taupo this year compared to the other girls in my age group and identified that I'm only around 2km/hr off the pace in terms of achieving a 6 hour bike split.  And, given my love for the bike, it's something that I'm pretty comfortable with hammering myself on in order to achieve that goal.

So Cairns will be a bit of an experiment this year - I will go completely against the current ironman wisdom of pacing the bike (holding back, even) in order to maximise the run leg.  In Cairns the plan will be to hammer the bike and accept that it will likely mean I'll suffer on the run.  We're only going to be interested in the bike split result and whatever happens on the run, happens.

Instructions sorted!

This training block, then, is all about building my strength and speed on the bike.  To do this, Coach Dave is starting to play around with sessions focusing on low cadence, high gear, hill repeats, and 1km high cadence sprints.

We started it off, then, last Sunday with a 4 hour ride at Kurnell.  The routine was on each half hour I would do 5 x 1km sprints in the big ring with 90+ cadence and an easy 3 minutes between each sprint.  It was a good session, and hard.  

On Thursday morning I did an early morning ride to Taronga Zoo where there is a popular stretch of road that cyclists use for hill repeats.  It's around 1.5km long and climbs 73m, providing a steady gradient of around 5%.  My instructions were to do the first rep in the big ring on the front and lowest gear at the back.  The next three reps would be in the next gear up on the back.  Considering that my instinct whenever I hit a climb is to drop to the bottom gear, and spin with as little load on the legs as possible, this was a noticeably more difficult exercise and I was definitely feeling the burn by the time I got home.  

On Friday evening I did a wind trainer session with the instructions to focus on the glutes and hammies and, to achieve this, I lowered the cadence and used a higher gear thus making sure I was engaging my legs for the full pedal stroke and using strength and power rather than relying on cadence.  Again, it was a tough session.  

Saturday morning arrived and it was our club run, a 13km jaunt around Chatswood and Artarmon and about 500m of climbing.  With my return to NRG I have moved up into a faster group and so, for me, there isn't too much "social" about this session.  And, in St Pete's words, I was "killing" the hills - so, again, the legs weren't getting much respite!

So those sessions, plus bootcamp and a couple of swims, added up to a reasonably tired irongirl heading to Cronulla this morning for another 4 hour bike session of 1km sprints.

And it showed.  

As I did the first 30min warm up I could tell immediately that my legs didn't have a lot of spark in them.    In fact they had no spark in them whatsoever.  I was determined to give it a go, however, and so got stuck into the first sprint.  Did that, although didn't feel 100%, and set about making sure my next 3 minute break really was "easy".  Into the second 1km sprint and it all turned to custard.  After 500m I blew up and just had no gas left in the tank.

At that point I realised that there was no way I was going to be able to manage any quality sprints for the next 3 hours and so I started tossing around the alternatives.  And this is where it can get tricky to figure out what to do.  Do you tough it out and do the time on the bike, i.e. do the 4 hours so I've got the distance logged, or do you write it off and go home?  There's a fine line between the two and what you don't want to do is log junk miles.  

I initially decided to carry on and try doing the 4 hours so I could at least get the time logged on the bike.  However as I pedalled over the two small rises on the lap, I realised that even this wasn't going to be a goer.  I was feeling flat and lethargic and all I wanted to do was head back to the train station and go home.

So I did.

And because I'm a bit of a data freak I couldn't resist looking at the Garmin download to see if there was any possible explanation.  What it showed is that my average and max speed for the first sprint was almost identical to last week.  However the telling statistic was that I couldn't get my heart rate up to where it should have been.  My max and average heart rate were both around 10 bpm lower and my cadence was about 15 rpm lower than last week.  And that trend repeated in the second sprint as well.  So it confirmed to me that I was simply too fatigued to get any benefit out of the session and I did the right thing by closing the door on it and coming home.

And while I was disappointed that I couldn't nail it today, there was a positive in that I recognised continuing the session would have likely set me back.  And it helped Coach Dave identify my current limit so he could adjust things accordingly.

The moral of the story, then, is to remember that you can't expect to nail every session 100%.  There will be ups and downs along the way and the key is to trust your gut instinct and go with it.

So How Much Training Does it Take to do an Ironman?

One of the common questions I get asked by people when they find out about my ironman obsession is "how much training do you do?"

It's always a tricky one to answer.  On one hand it varies according to the phase of training I'm in.  The week or two after ironman I'll be doing nothing.  Other weeks, like now (38 days out!), I'll be doing a fair bit more.  So I never really know how to answer it without either completely underselling the amount of effort and time that goes into it or scaring people off from considering that they might be able to take on the challenge themselves.

This morning, then, I decided to figure it out.  And the results were so interesting I had to share it.

It's actually quite a simple exercise, thanks to my Garmin Forerunner 910XT.  I've had this multisport watch for over a year now and on the Garmin connect website it was a 5 second job to run a summary report of all my activities for the past 12 months.  Here's what it spat out:

When you average it out over the year, you realise that what I'm doing isn't actually that daunting at all. I'll go through the relevant stats one at a time.

Firstly, I've done 348 activities.  Over 365 days that's less than one activity per day, on average.  In fact I've had 17 days over the year with no training - and St Pete would confirm that's probably about the number of times I've cooked dinner over the past year!!!!!  In reality I've had days where I've done two or three activities, but then there have also been more than 17 days off.

You get the idea.

During that year I've covered over 5106km.  That distance includes all of my swim/bike/running - and it also includes a standup paddleboarding session!  That's around 14km per day for the year or, overall, the same as a return trip between Sydney and Cairns.

The time I've spent training over the year is 422 hours 24 minutes.  That's an average of 1 hour 9 minutes per day.  Who can't do an hour of exercise each day?

My second favourite statistic is the elevation gain. Over the year I've climbed 69,785m.   That's 8 ascents of Mt Everest (from sea level).  Eight!  For someone who hates hills, it's a pretty cool feeling to know that over the space of a year I've done the equivalent of climbing Mt Everest eight times....wow.  Did I mention 8?

You get the idea.

My absolute favourite statistic, though is the calories burned.  Get this: 186,598 Calories. Now if there's one thing that helps me get out the door each day and exercise, it's this.  Food.  And I don't care what anyone says, there's nothing more satisfying than rewarding a long session on the bike, or a decent run, with an Angus Burger and large fries at McDonalds.  Or a coffee and a muffin.  Or a gelato on a hot day.

You get the idea.

Burning 186,000 Calories over a year allows me to indulge my psychological passion (food) while achieving my sporting passion (ironman).  And to put it into perspective, I could eat the following list every week and still not consume that many Calories:

• Grand Angus Burger
• Large Fries
• Hot Apple Pie
• Muffin
• Gelato
• Lindt Chocolate Truffle
• Slice of Banana Bread
• Latte (whole milk, daily)

(That little list comes to only 165,000 Calories for the year!)  Now before Coach Dave has a heart attack, never fear, I don't actually follow this weekly diet (except maybe the latte habit...), but it gives you some insight as to how a regular amount of exercise can really mount up into something significant over a period of time.

Forgetting about the food, though, the takeaway (boom, boom!) message here is consistency.  Afterall, if I said you could do an ironman on just over an hour of training every day for a year (and still have 17 days off over that year) you would probably never believe me.

But it seems you can.

A Tribute to the Ugliest Shoes Ever Invented

This morning I went for a swim.  It was a pretty normal start to the weekend but, because it also happened to be the first anniversary since our arrival in Sydney, I decided to celebrate the moment by sharing a Facebook status update of my post-swim relaxation routine.

Little did I know what a mini-furore it would start...

The entry was innocent enough - a photo and comment thus:

4km swim, spot in the sun drying off, latte in hand, watching the boats go by.  Seems like a pretty good way to spend our 1st anniversary in Sydney. Only thing missing is Pete - out running somewhere around the harbour.

Facebook post finished we carried on with our day, enjoying the spring weather that Sydney has graced us with.  That evening we got home and logged onto Facebook, where I found the beginnings of a spirited debate about, of all things, my choice of footwear.

Get those things off your feet!
Keep them on Toni!
NO - I say get them off!

Never has a pair of shoes so divided a nation as Crocs (or their imitators).  Boy was I glad those friends of mine live in separate locations around New Zealand - and on the opposite side of the Tasman to me, otherwise I'd be concerned that they'd come and do a night time raid on my shoe collection...or each other!

Such passion, though, has inspired me - and so I dedicate this blog to the passionate followers of my feet: Jacky, Mel and Jacqui.  And likely to the horror of the two J's, I also dedicate this commentary to the ugliest shoes ever invented.

Because they are also the saviour of any athlete - which I found out quite by accident.

I'll call them uglies. And I'm doing this for two reasons. Firstly, they're not Crocs.  Secondly, I'm the first to admit they're no fashion statement. In normal circumstances I would never own a pair and, indeed, admit to being one of the "non-believers" who used to look at Crocs and think, who in their right mind would part with good cash for a pair of them.

However that all changed in 2007 when good friends, the Rurus, decided to do this mad adventure which involved them cycling the length of New Zealand as a fundraiser for the Child Cancer Foundation.  At the beginning of their trip they were given a stack of NothinZ to sell, the proceeds of which would go to their fundraising tally.  NothinZ are like Crocs (but better!) and with the batch the Rurus were selling, you could have any colour you wanted, as long as it was flouro orange.

So being a good friend and supporter of the cause, a pair were dutifully purchased.  And little would I know it but a love affair would begin...

You see they are SO comfy on the soles of your feet.  It's like walking on marshmallows.  And they have LOTS of space around your toes.  And they don't care if they get wet.

So how do I love thee?  Let me count the ways...

Post-marathon or ironman:  When my toenails are mangled and touching them feels like red hot pokers are being stuck in, my uglies will encase my feet and come nowhere near touching my hyper-sensitive nails.  The softness of the soles will gently caress the bottom of my tired, aching, blistered feet as I make my way back home.

Tramping: My uglies will hang off the outside of pack, weighing nothing and serving as a fantastic beacon of colour should I ever get lost in the bush.  Fantastic to put feet into after a long day's tramping and a welcome change from the day's tramping boots.  The colour also makes them easy to spot when they've been dragged away from the tent by a Weka who thought they looked rather fetching...(yes, that really happened!)

Travel: They make great travelling companions - toss them into the bike case where they will be kind to your baggage allowance (weighing approximately 0.01 micrograms) and also act as extra padding for your precious bike cargo.

Swimming: My uglies don't care if they get wet - it's like water off a duck's back.  Wear them poolside to stop you sliding around on the wet tile surfaces.

I'm so attached to my NothinZ that I would be absolutely devastated should they be lost or otherwise rendered unwearable.  To help the unthinkable, then, I've picked up a backup pair of uglies.  The red ones were five bucks, on special online from Rivers.  They're good, but not a patch on the NothinZ and so they are my B pair.  They do the understudy stuff, things like taking me to the pool, or trips down to the basement.

For my events, A-races, it's the A pair I rely on and the orange NothinZ get taken out to do the important work. Next weekend, after the Sydney marathon, it'll be the orange NothinZ that I'll be dreaming of, from about the 30km mark.

Ugly as sin, but proof that you can't judge a book by its cover.

Ironman Cairns - The Off Season

So, Ironman Cairns is done and dusted, what now?  

Now is time to give back to my greatest supporter and fan club leader.  St Pete.  He spent 17 hours manning the phone last Sunday, providing Facebook updates for all my fb friends and it was the most amazing experience to have him read out everyone's messages of support while I was struggling at the 34km mark.  

But that wasn't the end of it.  

All year St Pete has cooked for me, cleaned and run with me.  And he's also put up with my tired, cranky times, when the last thing I've wanted to do is head out yet again for another training session, or when I've come back from a session that hasn't gone to plan.

Ironman is an imposing mistress in your home life and there is absolutely no doubt in my mind that anyone who tries to take this on is going to fail miserably if they don't have the wholehearted support of their family.

And the support hasn't stopped there. At a time when we were supposed to be celebrating the end of the season at IM New Zealand, Pete was the one giving me the go-ahead to sign up for my make up race in Cairns, thereby extending my season and his support role for another three months.

So now it's his time.  For the next few weekends there will be no alarm clocks.  Activities will be his choice and we will enjoy some "us" time, fun time.

And we'll make the most of it as well.  

Because soon enough Coach Dave will be tapping the Skype button and suggesting that I might like to start training again.  Ironman #4 in Taupo is not that far away, and I have new goals to reach for!

Never Underestimate the Break

What a great few weeks.  Ironman is so big that people tend to be scared to take any time out for fear of losing crucial conditioning for their A race.  The fear of not achieving one's goals tends to have people training like their lives depend on it.

Indeed having a two week complete break away from training a little over two months out from Ironman Cairns would probably seem insane to many Type A ironman athletes.  And yet that's exactly what I've done.  And while it's obviously too soon to know what effect it will have on my results come June 2, my mental preparation has definitely improved.

At a time when I am supposed to still be in my off season and focusing on recharging away from the triathlon scene, I am looking forward to another ironman and committing 100% effort into each training session.

The last couple of weeks, then, have been full on - dominated by double workouts (morning/evening) so 5.00am alarms were the norm and epic rides to make things interesting.  What follows then are some of the highlights of the last couple of weeks:

1. Running home from work.  My trip from home to work usually requires a train and bus ride, and takes about 45 minutes, depending on traffic and the number of students who wish to share the journey on a particular day.  I worked out, however, that with a bit of forward planning, I could easily run home from work a day or two a week to add a bit of interest.  It is around 9.5km and involves a slight incline for the stretch along Anzac Parade to the top of Oxford St, followed by a descent down to Circular Quay before climbing up and over the harbour bridge to Milsons Point on the other side.  It's an interesting run, with plenty of scenery changes along the way and the second time I did it I added a 5km loop around Centennial Park turning it into a 14.5km run.

2. Swimming with modified paddles.  One of the hardest things to get used to since moving to Sydney has been the prohibition placed on paddles by all of the pools.  One of the ironman coach's great swim aids is paddles, used to add resistance to your stroke and thus power.  However it seems that people can't be trusted not to clonk each other on the head with them and so, unless you are in a privately hired lane (i.e. in a swim squad) you aren't allowed to use them.  So I've muddled along, quietly ignoring the swim program instructions whenever they mention paddles.  That was, until last week, when I found webbed gloves at the pool shop.  These are a pseudo paddle in that they provide some resistance to your stroke but are made of stretchy fabric so won't do any damage if you hit someone over the head with them.  The worst thing about them - well, have you ever tried to put on wet knickers?  Yep, easy to get on when dry, a nightmare when wet...

3. The Epic Club Run.  Last weekend St Pete and I joined Northside Running Group.  A great bunch with the same culture and philosophy of the club we left behind, the Christchurch Marathon Clinic.  Their open day was down at Balmoral Beach and, because it was too early for the buses, we decided to run there and then bus back.  Of course going anywhere from Milsons Point requires scaling the proverbial mountain and so that's what we did.  Except Balmoral Beach is at the base of another proverbial mountain.  So it was a 6km run up hill and down dale and then we started on the actual club run, another up and down affair.  Such a scenic route, however: around to Chinaman's Beach, up the hill to Mosman, down past Taronga Zoo and down to Bradley's Head where we followed the walking track along the coastline to Chowder Bay before heading back over the hill and dropping back down to Balmoral Beach. All up 19km ... the bus ride home was bliss!

Team Roadworks - the Epic Ride

4. The Epic Ride.  Why do a 3 hour ride when you can do over 6 hours?!!  An opportunity came up to join iron virgin Bel on her 140km big ride and so (with Coach Dave's blessing) I ditched my program and joined her and the gang for an epic day through some roadworks, out to Parramatta, up to Berowa and back.  2200m of climbing (thanks Sydney!), 125km and 6hrs 14min later, and I was ready to do a spot of channel surfing from my favourite couch.

5. The Solo Epic Ride.  I now know my initiation as a Sydneysider is complete.  On Saturday I successfully negotiated my first solo ride from home to a completely new destination, with only my iPhone and Google maps for guidance.  Woohoo!  I headed north with the aim of reaching Palm Beach, a settlement at the end of a peninsular around 40km north of home.  It was a great day for a ride and once I got out of the main city area (and the traffic volumes lowered considerably), the scenery just got better and better.  Palm Beach is gorgeous and obviously a great spot for surfing.  On my way back, however, I took a wrong turn.  A major fork in the road gave me a choice of heading towards Dee Why or Sydney.  I wanted Sydney and so veered right however soon realised my mistake.  Never mind, I thought, this road is going to Sydney so I may as well see where I end up.  It ended up being a gem of a road - it was the Wakehurst Parkway which wends its way around the northern side of Narrabeen Lakes.  Flat(ish), smooth, forest-covered, and it eventually brought me right back to the Spit Bridge at Manly - familiar territory.  83km ticked off in 27degrees - whew!  A quick text home once I crossed over the Spit Bridge ensured I had an ice-cold home made banana smoothie waiting in the fridge for me when I got home.  St Pete truly is a saint!

6. The Ton.  To complete the weekend I needed to tick off a total of 200km riding.  Saturday's solo epic ticked off 84km, so I just had to do 116km on Sunday and so joined Bel for a drive down to Brighton Le Sands to do a flat ride.  We were joined by Mark, a fellow Ironman NZ 2011 finisher, for a flat-ish ride that included a couple of loops out to Kurnell, a tour of Cronulla and then an expedition across and through Miranda and Gymea.  All up we managed to tick off 100km and managed to take in some great scenery of the coastline at the same time.  And because I'm hardcore (a.k.a. a nut!) I got home and jumped on the wind trainer to finish off the final 16km and seal my 200km goal.

So, that's been the last couple of weeks.  Training has been hardcore, but I have no doubt I've coped better than usual thanks to my 2 weeks off.

Never underestimate the break.