Black Beauty Joins the Household (Part 2)

So I have a flash new bike.  Should be simply a case of jumping on and going fast, right?

Wrong.

Riding the Shiv is like jumping into a Ferrari Testarossa after you've spent your life driving a Corolla.  Well, maybe not that extreme - we're still dealing with the same engine (me) after all.  But the handling characteristics and operating rules are miles apart, and it's been a bit of a learning curve.

I have to admit I did fall into the trap of heading out for my first ride and expecting to do some blistering fast times that would make me very excited.

In reality, I came back with one of my slowest average speeds for a long time (26.2km/h over a 4 hour ride), burning and aching shoulderblades and neck muscles (requiring constant dosing of Voltaren for a couple of days afterwards) and an incredibly sore saddle area.

Not the sort of christening I had expected.

But I could sense the potential and, if I were to be really honest with myself, I knew a 4 hour ride first up probably wasn't the most sensible introduction to my new steed.  Afterall, who in their right minds takes a brand new pair of running shoes out for a marathon distance run the first time out?  You're just asking for trouble in that situation.

So the last few weeks has been spent riding the Shiv exclusively.   And it's paying off.  My average speed is coming up and things are now feeling more natural.  So natural, in fact, that my first ride on the Avanti for several weeks last weekend felt decidedly odd!  To give you a feel, then, for the sorts of things that are different, here's an outline of what I've changed or adjusted to:

1. Positioning over front wheel:  The first thing I noticed when I rode her for the first time was how wobbly up front it felt.  Talk about a danger to traffic!  Thankfully it was an early Sunday morning and a relatively quiet road, so I wasn't about to give any drivers a heart attack.  However you are positioned further forward and over the front wheel and with the extra weight the wheel is much more prone to turning.  When on the aero bars the weight becomes more stable (than when you are holding the bars where the brakes are) but it did take a bit of time to get the feel for tracking in a straight line and compensating for any shifts in position (i.e. when getting a drink etc).

2. Gel management:  With Black Beauty I have had to say goodbye to my trusty Bento Box.  The Bento Box was the little container that sits on the top tube of the Avanti and holds my supplies of gels during races and any other paraphenalia when I'm training.  On the Shiv a Bento Box isn't possible if you need to refill your water during a ride as it would sit right over the top of the rubber lid of the water bladder.  So, an alternative way of holding gels was needed and that has been answered, so far, by the introduction of a gel bottle.  A gel bottle simply holds several single serve gels so that you're not having to bother with individual serves and the associated rubbish that goes with it.  The idea is that you transfer the contents of 4 or 5 gels into the bottle and then carry it with you, running or biking, or whatever you're doing.  In my case I picked up a Fuel Belt gel bottle in a bike holder with the idea that it velcroes around your top tube just under the saddle.  Problem was, the velcro straps weren't long enough to go around the top tube of the bike!  So another solution was needed, and found.  My anatomy.  Yep, we women are graced with natural gel bottle holders and so my gel bottle now sits happily nestled down the front of my top while I'm riding!  It works best when you're wearing a tri top with a shelf bra rather than a fitted bra, so there is a natural gap front and centre available for the bottle to nestle into.  That takes care of five gels but for an iron distance race I'll need double that, so I'll be carrying a spare gel bottle on race day and that will most likely sit in my back tri top pocket.  When the first gel bottle gets emptied I'll simply throw it away and move the second one around to the front.

3. Gear changing:  So, no more gear levers sitting next to the brake levers.  I now have buttons.  Yep, four of the little blighters sitting at the end of the aero bars.  My hands sit right at the end of the aero bars with the thumbs resting on the buttons and so when I want to change gear all it needs is a press of the top or bottom button and next thing you know it's done.  What I've had to get used to here is which button to press!  I spent a bit of time trying to work out how to remember which button to press and then figured out it was actually dead simple.  If you're going uphill you press the top (up) button.  If you're going downhill you press the bottom (down) button.  All I have to do, then, is align what I'm doing to either the effects of uphill or downhill riding.  And it works both sides!  So front and rear sprockets change the same way - uphill uses the up/top button and this changes into an easier gear and downhill uses the bottom/down button, to go into a harder gear.  Confused?  Hopefully not!

4. Taking in Water:  Drinking water is now a nifty arrangement whereby a bladder sits inside the frame of the bike, thus reducing drag.  It's also easier to drink out of rather than fiddling around with a bottle.  So a drinking tube emerges from the frame and sits on your aero bars, held there by a magnet which you can shift around according to your own preference.  While I'm riding in aero position, then, I can pull the tube off the magnet, take a drink, and move it back to the magnet and not change cadence or position.  It took a bit of practice to get used to that movement and get used to moving the tube back to the magnet without looking down or weaving across the road (!), but I've got that sorted now.  I also did a couple of practice runs with St Pete, picking up a water bottle and refilling the bladder on the fly.  It works really easily - genius.

5.  Taking in sports drink:  Normally in an iron distance race you have two bottles on the bike - one holding water and the other sports drink.  I've got the water sorted and, for the sports drink, I've retained  that bottle and moved it to a bracket sitting horizontally between the aero bars.  The latest thinking is that this is more aerodynamic than the set up I've got on the Avanti where there is a bottle hanging vertically between the bars.  Again, then, this was a balance adjustment as I had to adjust to riding in aero position and holding the aero bars with one hand and pulling out the bottle, drinking, and putting it back in the cage all while staying in position.  Again, it took a bit of practice to do this without weaving across the road but I'm pretty good on it now.  Thank goodness for Captain Cook Drive at Kurnell and it's fab bike lanes!

6.  Aero position:  You might be getting the impression that there's a big emphasis on riding in aero position.  And you'd be right.  The whole bike is engineered for 100% aero riding and that in itself takes a bit of adjustment.  Those of you who have ridden with me will know that I was always comfortable in aero and took every opportunity to ride in that position.  Realistically, though, on the Avanti, I wouldn't spend much more than 50% of any ride on the aero bars and so Black Beauty has been a real shift because it's actually awkward to ride off the aero bars.  So I am now doing 4-5-6 hour rides that would be 99% aero and the first time especially took a bit of getting used to.  The great news is that the position I've been put in has eliminated all the back pain that I had been getting after around 3-4 hours.  My shoulders and neck, however, did have to adjust and I suffered badly for a couple of days after that first ride.  As I said before, though, 4 hours first time out probably wasn't the best idea!  This video, though, gives you an idea of the new regime.



7.  Braking:  The most important thing to remember is that if you're braking there aren't any gear levers alongside the brakes for you to change down easily while you're slowing down.  If you need to brake you have to change down beforehand, or you brake with one hand and (awkwardly) change gear with the other.  It's not an ideal position with one hand up on the aero bar pressing a button and the other hand down on the bar with the brake lever while maintaining a straight line...  All of this reinforces the fact that the Shiv isn't designed to stop!  And she isn't really suited to riding through the city, either, through lots of stop/start traffic lights and intersections.  Kurnell is her ideal playground where woman and machine can get into the groove and motor for hours on end.

8.  Saddle:  Last but not least, the saddle.  I've heard of pros putting their scungy, well worn saddles on their brand new bikes and I can now understand why.  When you get used to one saddle it's definitely a challenge adjusting to a new one!  The saddle I've been fitted to is wider at the back - measured for my "sit bones" and it also rises at the back rather than being flat.  I imagine it's to help you with rotation onto the aero bars and to stop you moving backwards.  The result, however, was great initially, but there were obviously different pressure points to get used to, which I hadn't gotten used to!  Again, it's been a time thing, and comfort down below has definitely improved over time.  It has also brought to mind, however, a piece of advice I read on a forum somewhere that said "if your saddle is sore it just means that you're not putting enough pressure on the pedals!".  i.e. you're not pushing hard enough and resting on the saddle too much.  Don't know how much truth there is to that - I'll leave you to consider it for yourself.

So, all in all, lots of little things, lots to learn, but a month on it's coming together and I am really beginning to feel as one with Black Beauty.

She really is something special.

Black Beauty Joins the Household (Part 1)

So I've been pretty quiet on the blog front these past few weeks.  But never fear, life has been far from quiet for this irongirl.

Training has continued apace, work has continued apace (yes, despite what a couple of Facebook friends have said, with the help of St Pete I do somehow manage to hold down a busy full time job alongside my ironman passion!), and 2013 continues apace.

2013 brings with it an exciting new challenge.

This year I will be taking on two ironman events.  Yes, I know, I have two ironman official finishes in 2012 but, with New Zealand being shortened to a half, Ironman Cairns became my single actual iron distance race completed.  This time I'm going to do both Ironman New Zealand (in March) and follow that up with Ironman Cairns in June.

To help me in my quest St Pete decided last year that it was time to upgrade my favourite ironman race tool.  No, it wasn't time to upgrade him (!), rather it was time to move on from my trusty and faithful Avanti Cadent road bike and onto a triathlon-specific bike.  And who was I to argue?

Enter Black Beauty.

A few months had been spent researching the various options and for a long time I had considered that my next bike would be a Trek.  They are known as one of the top producers of triathlon bikes and the ability to customise the colour options via the website was particularly appealing. (It's a girl thing.)

Last season, however, my opinion started to sway when Specialized introduced the Shiv.

For any triathlon geek this bike looks like sex on wheels.  Added to that the very cool integration of water bladder inside the frame and nifty drinking tube held to the aero bars with a magnet and I was seriously reconsidering my original dream of owning a Trek.  The buzz around bike geeks is that the Shiv is not UCI-legal.  So you won't find any pro bike teams racing it in time trials.  What Specialized has done, then, is be the first company to throw away the UCI rules and design a bike specifically for triathletes.

And given I don't give a toss about time trialling, it's got to be worth supporting.

Besides the sex on wheels thing, the other thing that finally swayed me in favour of the Shiv (Pro Di2) was the gearing.  Thanks to the wonders of Shimano's fancy pants electronic gearing, the Shiv has been able to achieve lower gearing ratios than the Trek which means climbing is easier - and for a hill-phobe like me that's a big plus!  Oh, and having a bike with electronic gearing might have also played a part in the decision-making....just a little...

...OK, a lot.   :)

So, at the beginning of December, and after a Body Geometry bike fit with Jet Cycles, Black Beauty came home.

Do I look happy or what?

Goodbye gear levers, hello buttons

 

 

Merry Christmas to me....

Bondi to Bronte Ocean Swim - A real ocean swim

One of the great things about living in Sydney is that there is no shortage of beaches and ocean to swim in if you are so inclined.  The swimming culture here is alive and well with surf lifesaving, surfing and other ocean sports high on the list of many locals' weekend pursuits.  The only downside is the wildlife and it is the nagging concern about unwittingly becoming shark bait that prevents many, including myself, from enjoying the ocean as much as we'd like.

There is one way around it, however, and that is via the multitude of ocean swim events around the region every year.  Earlier this year I did the Cole Classic, out at Manly, and this weekend I ticked another one off the list - the Bondi to Bronte Ocean Swim.  Another iconic event in the Sydney ocean swim calendar.

I had suggested doing the swim with a couple of local friends and work colleagues and each one of them reacted as if I was suggesting we swim the English Channel together.  Sharks, the distance and getting out of the surf break at Bondi seemed to be insurmountable barriers to entry but were all things I hadn't considered as real obstacles.  OK, sharks maybe, but for me that's the whole point of doing an organised event - there's heaps of people around you and, more importantly, plenty of life guards keeping a look out for unwelcome company in the water.

But while I entered with gusto and felt sure I could handle the event, it didn't stop the old butterflies returning - we were out at Bondi the week before with friends and I happened to point out to Sandra and Katarina the route of the swim I'd be doing.  "It's basically just out around that headland and then back into the next bay".  Next thing I know my brain's doing double time - that headland looks like a looong way out.  Bugger.  Stop thinking about it.  There will be buoys ("cans") out there on race day and then I'll be able to get into the normal routine - just get to the next can. 

Simple.

So Sunday arrived.  Saturday had been stinking hot, muggy, a real pearler.  Race day comes along and it's grey and blah. The temperature, though, isn't too bad.

I wasn't stressing too much - although remembering on the train platform that you've forgotten your swim goggles isn't the most relaxing activity.  A quick sprint home to retrieve them was in order and probably got rid of some excess nerves in the process...

The Bondi to Bronte facebook update that morning reported a 1.5m swell and water temperature of 19.5 degrees, meaning wetsuits were allowed.  We get off the bus at Bondi and I'm trying to remain chilled out and it's blowing.  No nice calm summer's day. 

Yikes. 

Immediate thought - at what point to do they decide it's too rough to swim?  By the look of activities down at the registration tents and beach, this didn't warrant giving us the morning off.

Damn.

Nothing to do but get registered and sausage my way into the wetsuit. The ocean swimming purists would have no doubt scoffed at my attire but for the first time this year the organisers were allowing wetsuits as an option for all age group categories when the water and air temperatures met certain criteria.  It was their way of encouraging greater participation in the event and great for us triathletes who should really be swimming in our wetsuits at any open water swim opportunity.  Thankfully I wasn't the only one.  Around 25% of us were similarly attired, so I was far from being odd one out.

Next thing was to figure out the best starting postion along the beach.  I had been reading about using the rip to carry you out and it looked like the start of the course had been lined up beside the rip (a smoother patch of water amongst the surf).

Finally I couldn't put it off any longer and so said goodbye to St Pete and headed into the coralling area for our wave start.  We were sent off in age group waves, and for some reason my age group was the last wave to be set off.  The oldest age group had been sent off first, behind the elites.

Great, so I've got the joy of being the last one to finish to look forward to.

Race briefing went something like this:

• There are 10 cans along the course. 
• Life guards are there to help, don't hesitate to raise your hand if you need any assistance. 
• Out around the point it's rough (no kidding!). 
• If you can you might want to breathe just on your right side for that section. 
• Once you get past the 5th can you turn and you'll see a big pink flag on the headland, to the right of Waverley Cemetery. 
• Sight off the big pink flag and then you'll see the surf lifesaving club at Bronte Beach. 
• If you go past Waverley Cemetery you've gone too far!
• Don't swim towards the lifesaving club - there's a hole in front of it. 
• You need to swim past the lifesaving club and then come back to the finish line just after it.

No problem.  Yeah right.

Line up on the beach - of course as soon as it's our turn to start the rip seems to disappear and there's surf all the way in front of us.  Typical.  Also not that reassuring was the sight of an IRB returning to the beach with four or five people from the previous wave.  Not a good start to their swim.

The gun goes off and we all head into the surf. 

And promptly get smashed three or four times by waves. 

My body manages to keep heading out while my brain is saying "what the hell are you doing this for?"  Yeah, those first few minutes I was truly questioning my sanity.  One of the only things that kept me going was the fact the St Pete had already headed off and if I chickened out now I'd have to walk all the way around to Bronte in barefeet and my wetsuit. 

Yep, strange as it seemed, it was easier to swim!

Did I mention it was rough?

When you are bobbing around in the middle of the ocean, that supposed 1.5m swell, plus a chop on top of that, suddenly looks enormous.  The visibility in the water was good and the temperature was fine, but there was no way I could get any sort of swim technique or rhythm going.  It was exactly how I would imagine being tossed around in a washing machine would be.  Every so often I'd be stroking and then suddenly get tossed on my side by a wave, or I'd rotate to breathe and a wave would come down on top of me and I'd drink some more of the ocean.

It would be fair to say that a fair bit of long dog and breastroke was utilised and I would watch the "ocean swimmers" ahead of me to see if they were doing anything markedly different.  They were, however, making it look easy and so while I was bobbing away like a cork or getting tossed around like a bag of dirty laundry, they would be cruising along up and down the side of each wave, barely breaking stroke.

About 3/4 of the way along I reassured myself that I never had to do this swim again.  Having said that, at no point did I think I wouldn't be able to finish.  For the most part the cans were only around 150-200m apart, so it was easy to chunk it down and I did seem to tick them off without too much difficulty.

The life guards were amazing.  They were continually cruising around, on surf skis, jet skis and IRBs - at one point I'm sure I was being escorted by Corey of Bondi Rescue on his jet ski.  At that point I concluded there was a definite benefit to being at the tail end of the pack if I was going to get a celebrity as a personal escort!   On a serious note, though, they would be circulating around us all and making sure we were OK.  One time I just gave a thumbs up and that was enough to send them onto the next person.  Another time we'd have a bit of a conversation as I checked to make sure I wasn't on a time limit before confirming that I was fine, just taking my sweet time about it.  At another check-in I confirmed with them that these were actually rough conditions.  They were - I wasn't just being a complete novice!  I even got offered some water at one point - which I didn't feel I needed even though it felt like I had swallowed half the ocean by then.

After what seemed like forever I finally started sighting on the final buoy and had turned in towards Bronte Beach.  It was still rough but definitely improved on what it had been and I was able to put together a decent number of strokes in each effort.  At that point also, I seemed to converge on a whole stack of people - while I had thought I had dropped off the back of the pack all of a sudden I ended up with people around and behind me for the last 100m.  It seems that they were either struggling for that last bit or had swim quite badly off course and so I had caught up to them - for once, and despite the conditions, I had managed to stay close to the cans at each point.

I'm going strong up the beach - looks like someone's struggling just behind

The beach at Bronte is quite steep and so when you get to the water's edge there is a reasonably strong current heading back out after each wave.  The last 10m, then, was quite an experience.  I could see the sand below and it was tantalisingly close but I could also see that I wasn't moving forward.  It was a really good example of being patient and waiting for the next wave to catch me and carry me in.  Which I did and stood up, upon which I had a lifeguard on the beach calling out to me to get out of the way quickly as there was another wave coming up behind.  So no casual walking up the beach, it was straight into a run up the soft sand and across the finish line.

And how good did that feel?  Amazing.

As for doing it again?  Well, despite my darkest thoughts mid-swim, my current motto of "Never say never" was starting to shine through not long after...great event, great volunteers, awesome lifeguards.

Swimming buddies for next year welcome!

Sydney Marathon - Best Laid Plans...

...can come together!!

It's a couple of days after the running of the Sydney marathon and I am hobbling on the outside but floating on the inside.

Like the golfer who dreams of that once-in-a-career hole in one - Sunday for me was a rare day where it all came together and gave me a great result.

I ran, I suffered, I focused.

And I crossed the finish line in a time of 4 hours 53 minutes.  29 minutes better than my previous best time.  Chuffed is one way to put it...

So, the race plan.  I had my regular pre-race Skype call to Coach Dave and relayed my intentions for the day.  There were really only two goals (besides getting in before the 5 hr 30min cutoff!).  Firstly I thought if I could maintain a pace of around 6:30-7:00 min/km then that would be the ultimate achievement.  My recent races had me targeting a 6:00 min/km pace and so I figured this should be achievable.  My second goal was to practice the nutrition and get that nailed.  A good supply of gels and then taking on the Powerade on the course.

It was all good in theory but my head was doing double-time silencing the doubts.  There was my perceived lack of running in the build-up. No 25/30/32km runs in training for me. No 4-5 run sessions per week.  I was strictly on a swim/bike/run/bootcamp regime (with two runs per week) and Coach Dave was more than confident that he had it all under control.

And, afterall, in Coach we trust....

My other doubts were over my previous two marathons.  Both completed with the help of significant stretches of walking and much distress.  While I was extremely proud to finish both, they were both definitely a case of triumph over adversity and it would be an outright lie to suggest I actually enjoyed either experience.

And then, of course, there's that nagging voice that continually brings me back down to earth and puts this all into perspective - I'm not a runner.  My legs aren't built for running.  I'm a plodder.  What the hell am I doing running a blasted marathon?

Well, I'm proving that anyone can run a marathon.  Hell, if I can then anyone absolutely can.

So, Sunday.  St Pete and I had had a pretty good build up to it.  A quiet taper week, with the only thing threatening to rain on my parade being a cold that reared its ugly head the weekend before.  I managed to stomp it out, though.  Some great drugs from the pharmacist and lots of fluids and rest, and that pesky virus was out the door by Saturday morning.

Sunday morning dawned fine and we enjoyed the luxury of being able to eat breakfast and then watch the half marathon runners go past our balcony before we made our way down to the start line, just 200m away.  I was feeling good and not too nervous.  St Pete and I wished each other luck and he headed off to his starting group, which would get away just before our group.

I had the plan sorted out in my head.  Start out slow and steady, especially for the first kilometre which would be uphill to the apex of the harbour bridge.  I didn't want my heart rate to get high right at the start as that would put me right on the back foot.  Then walk through the aid stations and think about just getting to the next aid station.

The gun started and the first two groups headed away and then it was our turn (we were the "finish time longer than 4hr 30min" group).  Off we went, starting the climb up the bridge, and I was feeling good.  First km was ticked over in 6:11.  Faster than I had anticipated but, more importantly, my heart rate wasn't through the roof so I was happy with that.  Feeling comfortable and over the other side we went, through our first U-turn and then down the corkscrew onto Cahill Expressway before turning right and starting the climb up to Hyde Park.  Halfway up to Hyde Park we got to the first aid station, at the 5km mark and my km splits had all been sub-6:30.  A good start and I was feeling fine.  Not pushing it, just focusing on staying relaxed and enjoying the moment and the people around me.

At Hyde Park we turned left and headed downhill to Mrs Macquarie's Chair by the botanic gardens.  Again I was feeling relaxed and had gotten into a good rhythm which continued past the U-turn and for the climb back out of the gardens back towards Hyde Park.  This stretch included the short sharp steep bit that I referred to in my previous blog and I remembered this as I chugged my way up this section with no worries.

By this time we were approaching 10km and at this point we left the half marathon course and turned left into Hyde Park and headed south through the park before climbing up Oxford St and continuing onto Centennial Park where we would do several convoluted hairpins and circuits.  This would keep us occupied for a half marathon before we found ourselves back down at the end of Hyde Park to rejoin the half marathon route for the final 10km section.

First of all, though, I had to conquer the middle half marathon!

First on my mind was the grind up Oxford St.  This is a section about 600m long and a steady gradient of 4-5%.  I remembered struggling my way up there when we first moved to Sydney a year ago.  This time I chugged my way up no problems and my split for that kilometre was only about 20 seconds slower than previous splits.  In and around Centennial Park was interesting with hairpins, undulations and the course going in all sorts of directions.  There was plenty of tree cover and lots of people around so not much chance to get too hot or bored.  Rather, I simply focused on maintaining a steady pace and thought only about the next aid station.

While in the park we crossed over the half way point and my time check for the half marathon was 2:19 - a time I was well happy with.  I immediately calculated a 4:40 finish time and then pushed that out of my mind.  That was way too ambitious and I couldn't see how I was going to hold it together as well as I had for the first half.  Even so, all was going well and I had few concerns at that point.

We headed out of Centennial Park and it was easy to think we just had to run back down Oxford St and into Hyde Park.  However before that there was still about 4km of straight running with a couple of U-turns thrown in as we worked our way slowly across to the far side of Anzac parade and finally heading back to Oxford St.  It was during this last section I finally succumbed to the will of my bladder and, at around 26km, took a quick loo stop - and suffered a 2 minute deficit on my split for that kilometre!

Never mind, felt much better with that out of the way, although lesson learnt - always make sure you have a final loo stop before the start...doh!

Heading back towards Oxford St and the downhill to Hyde Park, muscles were starting to make themselves well known and it was time to employ some psychology.
- almost at the downhill, which you love
- along Hyde Park, flat
- then another downhill towards Circular Quay, by which time you'll be into the final 10km

I was mentally focusing on the downhills because they are my favourite.  However by the time I got to the bottom of Oxford St I was well over running downhill and then the second stretch down to Circular Quay was starting to become agony.

At Circular Quay I had to ignore the runners who were heading to the finish line and instead focus on the fact that there was less than 8km to go.  The last section started to get a bit ragged and my focus became not so much the kilometre splits (which were increasing to the 7:00 mark) but on keeping moving and not walking.  By this stage everyone was walking (except me!) and I actually managed to gain mental strength from those that I was able to plod my way past.  (If you were one of those people, sorry!!!!).

The last 8km section is an out and back, towards and past Darling Harbour, a couple of small loops around and then back the way you came, around the waterfront under the harbour bridge, around Circular Quay and the finish line by the Opera House.  There are a couple of good climbs on it, just enough to finish you off if you've hit the 32km wall, but again I was able to maintain momentum and keep going past countless people as they trudged (walked) their way to the finish.

My legs were starting to really complain with about 3km to go but by this point I had come down off the last downhill and knew it was flat all the way to the end - and it was only 3km to go!  I tried to keep it steady and, with 2km to go, looked at my watch and saw I was at 4hr 39min.  At that point I realised I could finish inside 5 hours and so tried to pick up the pace a little with the hope of having a strong finish.

At 1km to go there was the final aid station and I grabbed a cup of water and decided to see what I had for the finish.  Off I went, as strongly as I could in the conditions and with about 500m left we turned left slightly onto Circular Quay and stacks of supporters lining the course making heaps of noise.  There were some girls just ahead of me and I managed to get around them and ran hard to the end, wondering if they would try and get me and, knowing my luck, pip me on the line.  I stayed strong, though, and didn't see them again, powering to the end and crossing the line with a gun time of 4:56.

Knowing my net time would be less than that, I looked down and stopped my watch - 4:53 - and slowly walked to the recovery area, gasping for breath but absolutely elated with my achievement.

As I got to the recovery area I looked up and the first person I saw was St Pete.  Doubly amazing that we would find each other so quickly!  Turned out he had finished only a couple of minutes earlier and, with net times had beaten me by a mere 30 seconds.   Phew, his day hadn't been so perfect, but his honour was intact!

Lying, exhausted, on the grass in the botanic gardens, my reflections on the day were that it was pretty much the perfect race.  Everything I had anticipated had gone as it should - I had executed my plan perfectly - and I was therefore satisfied that I had received the best result that I could on the day.

Which is all we can ask of ourselves.

Some post-race stats and reflections...

• I did the first half of the race in 2:19 and the second half in 2:33.  First half faster than I had anticipated but not too bad in terms of trying to maintain an even pace throughout.
• In the second half of the race I picked up 188 places so, relatively speaking, had a strong second half.
• My pace for the first half was 6:36/km and 7:17/km for the second half with an overall average pace of 6:56/km (inside my "ideal" race scenario of 7:00/km).
• If I were to be nit picking, I could have saved almost 2 minutes if I had avoided the loo stop (didn't pay as much attention to this as I should have prior to the start) and probably another minute if I didn't hang around walking while consuming a handful of jellybeans at the 32km aid station (they seemed like a good idea at the time!).
• I have no doubt that bootcamp has contributed to my hill strength these last couple of months.  While my climbing has improved since our move to Sydney, I was surprised with the way I coped with the climbs over a full marathon distance.
• Coach Dave rocks.  Once again I slap myself for ever questioning or doubting his plans for me.  Some have asked whether I would change to a Sydney-based coach following our move and my question is always unwavering, "no way".  While it may seem logical to have a coach nearby, when you find one who understands your strengths and weaknesses, understands your motivations and goals, and believes in the Irongirl legend as much as I do, then you need to foster that as well as you can.  Thank goodness for Skype is all I can say!!!
• St Pete rules.  Enough said :)

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.

Irongirl's Ultimate Marathon Race Plan

In just over a fortnight St Pete and I will be toeing the start line of the Blackmore's Sydney Marathon.

Three months ago it seemed like a great idea.  Today it seems like one of the stupidest things I've ever cooked up for myself.

Like a good Irongirl, though, I have a plan.

A race plan.

And it goes something like this:

Start -2hrs
Get up, eat some mashed banana on toast and a cup of tea.
Try not to throw up said toast, banana and tea.
Check emails, facebook, twitter, and generally cruise the internet, trying to avoid thinking about the next 8 hours and instead thinking calm blue oceans and sunny skies.
Pin St Pete's race number on his top - adjust it 50 times until it is "just right".
Try not to stab him with a safety pin.

Start -1hr
Go to the bathroom.
Walk around the lounge.
Go to the bathroom again.
Put running shoes on, quadruple-check everything in the gear bags.
Make sure every possible contingency is covered - rain, blizzard, gale-force winds, heatwave.
Toss 90% of what was in the gear bags back on the bed after realising it's a calm sunny day outside and the start line is 50m from our front door.
Check for the 15th time that St Pete has the front door keys.
Leave the house and head to the start line.
Head back to the house and pick up the forgotten sunglasses.
Check for the 16th time that St Pete has the front door keys.
Leave the house and head to the start line.

Start -30min
Join the portapotty queues.

Start -5min
Make it out of the portapotty just in time to get to the start line and give St Pete a big hug and kiss good luck.

Start Gun
Watch St Pete disappear into the crowd.

0-1km
Try to ignore the 3/4 of the field going past me while I settle into a warm up pace.  Resist the temptation to yell at everyone "this is a marathon, guys, you're going out too fast!" because they are already settling into their own slow pace.
Start climbing towards the harbour bridge.

1-5km
Embrace the suck.
DO NOT think about the 35km still left to go.
Instead, know that my heart rate will be stupidly high and I will feel like a big bag of cement.
Might have something to do with "summiting" the harbour bridge...make mental note to find more running events that start with a downhill rather than uphill.

5-10km
Finally get into a rhythm.
Heart will have stopped trying to escape from my chest and will have settled into a more civilised 140-150bpm.
Legs now feeling like they can plod along at a reasonably sedate pace for the duration.
Get some nutrition in - embrace the aid stations and maintain a civilised walk through each one.
Make mental note to suggest to the race organisers that they install an escalator on the "short sharp steep section" past the Art Gallery carpark.
Try not to swear walk up said short sharp steep section.
Channel the Little Engine That Could and make it up the short sharp steep section.
Enjoy the scenery out by the botanic gardens and then into Hyde Park before the long climb out of the CBD towards Centennial Park.

10-20km
Focus on steady pace, walking the aid stations and taking in nutrition at each one.
Enjoy the feeling of being a "runner" - it won't last much longer.
Watch out for the horses in Centennial Park.
Watch the horses in Centennial Park.  They will provide a welcome distraction.

21km
Silently celebrate the halfway mark.
Know that while it's not all downhill from here, it is homeward and that must be worth at least a 5% decline for the brain.
Check the time and immediately double it with the delusional idea that you will do, at worst, an even split or, even better, a negative split.
Double the time and add an hour to calculate the more likely scenario.
Forget the time.

22-30km
Embrace the suck.
Focus only on getting to the next aid station.
Walk the aid station and take in some nutrition.
Become aware of every joint, ligament, tendon, muscle and bone from the waist down.
Block out the awareness knowing that thinking about it will only end badly.

30-35km
Embrace the suck.
Say hello to the enormous red brick wall looming ahead.
Run into it.
Keep running.

35-40km
It's all downhill from here!  Well actually it's flat, but that's as good as downhill when you can almost smell the finish line.
Enjoy the crowds who are still hanging out along the sidelines, including all the marathoners who finished ages ago and are now wandering around in a leisurely fashion with their medals around their necks.
Resist the urge to snatch a medal off those smug good-for-nothing natural-born athletes just to save having to run the final 4km.

40km - FINISH
Savour the feeling of all pain and discomfort leaving the body as you see the finish chute.
Run across the line with a huge smile and trying not to look like a Womble - that finish line photo needs to be a good one.
Remember to press the stop button on the Garmin - who needs official results when you've got www.garminconnect.com
Hold back the expletives when you realise you forgot to start the Garmin.
Luckily there's official results.
Find St Pete and compare notes, while sitting in the Botanic Gardens nursing aching feet and toes, enjoying the spring sunshine and knowing that it's been a great day out.

Finish +2hours
Maccas - Grand Angus Burger, Large Fries, Hot Apple Pie.
Lovin' it!


DISCLAIMER:  All events described in this blog post may or may not bear any relation to actual or real events.  As always, life is not to be taken so seriously and so copious pinches of salt should be taken in conjunction with a healthy dose of humour. This blog has been written for your entertainment. Enjoy :)

These Legs Were Made For Running...

Haha, OK, no they're not.

These legs are the most unsuited appendages for running you could ever hope for.

Look at any half decent runner and you will see long, lean limbs.  My legs?  Built like a front row prop.  Short but strong, these legs are great for power (I was nicknamed "thunder thighs" at school for good reason), but absolutely hopeless for running.  Put me at a run start line and I will plod rather than glide, pound rather than skip.

And when people talk to me about ironman they have this expectation that I must love running and I must be really good at it.  It can actually be quite entertaining to see the look of surprise and disbelief when I correct them of this fallacy and let them know in no uncertain terms that I don't enjoy running and, in fact, have a love-hate relationship with this, the third discipline of ironman.  And it took my fellow NRG club runners a couple of weeks to realise that this irongirl really did belong with the back of the pack group!

But running is good for me and there is plenty of scope for improving this leg of ironman.  Coach Dave was therefore happy to accommodate my suggestion that I get some more running into the legs over winter.  I had a few events in mind and so we set up a schedule of different challenges that would keep things interesting.

First up was the Sutherland 2 Surf.  This was an 11km fun run from (you guessed it) Sutherland out to Cronulla.  It was described as a flat run but, hello, this is Sydney, so who were they kidding?!  Overall the gradient was downhill, however there were plenty of climbs to keep everyone honest.  Another "special" feature was the location of the finish line, completely out of sight just 100m around a downhill hairpin and following a final killer climb along the beachfront just to finish everyone off mentally and physically.

Find more Run in Sutherland, Australia

I had a good run, though.  It rained basically the whole way and so the conditions were pretty miserable.  However I took advantage of the downhill start and began strongly.  So strongly (for me), in fact that I was a bit concerned that my pace was too high and was likely to lead to a blow up.  I kept going though, and finally pushed myself over the finish line in 1:04:58.  A great pace for me (5:51/km) and a real boost in confidence.

Next up in my winter running adventures was a real doozey.  An away run with NRG, our running club, running the Coastal Track from Otford to Bundeena in the Sydney National Park.

The trail is the route for a newish event, the Coastal Classic, which is being run in September.  And so it was to be used as a training run for those who had entered the event.  For the rest of us, it was a opportunity for a day out running over new terrain and exploring a different part of the region.

The Back of the Packers on the Coastal Track

It was a stunning day and we had no pressure to finish in a hurry.  The track was 27km of off road terrain - mud, rock, sand and forest trails.  About the only thing missing were leeches, and that was probably only because there hadn't been any rain in the previous few days.

A highlight was seeing a couple of whales just off the coast and we interspersed the whale watching with running along the flats and downhills and walking the climbs - of which there were plenty!  We reached Bundeena in 5 hours 11 minutes, though, not bad for a tough 27km and there were plenty of sore feet and tired bodies on the ferry back to Cronulla and train back to Milsons Point at the end of the day.

The latest in this trio of winter running was the City 2 Surf.  This iconic event is a Sydney classic, attracting its cap of 85,000 entries each year.  The run is 14km and starts in Hyde Park, heads east through Kings Cross, past Rose Bay and out to Vaucluse before turning hard right and running south to Bondi.  A particular highlight is the legendary "Heartbreak Hill", which we had heard plenty about since our arrival in Sydney last year.  Guaranteed to make grown men weep, this course was going to be no walk in the park.

St Pete and I ready to take on the City 2 Surf

The weather forecast wasn't flash.  Strong winds were predicted and low temperatures to go with them so we wrapped up warmly and got ready for a steady trot out to Bondi.  One thing I hadn't experienced before was running with 85,000 people.  Enough to put some people off, but no doubt this was going to be an adventure.

One mitigating factor is that by some miracle I had managed to qualify for the green seeded group.  My stunning performance of a sub 2hr 15min half marathon run earlier this year had allowed this privilege, and allowed us to start just 8 minutes behind the serious guys in the red group.

I was well psyched up to deal with Heartbreak Hill.  Didn't know what to expect, but I knew I had been coping with hills OK so refused to be scared of it.  In the end it was the very first climb that nearly finished me off!  500m from the start and not even properly warmed up and we start our first climb into the tunnel.

Far out!

Got there though, and we toured our way through Kings Cross and around Rose Bay.  The crowds weren't too bad - the seeding had obviously done its job and the only real problems we had were navigating our way around walkers who were most likely part of the privileged "gold" group, the fundraisers who had been able to start ahead of us because of their fundraiser status.

At around the 6km mark Heartbreak Hill started.  I was well warmed up by then and chugging along quite nicely.  So nicely in fact that I had the energy to belt out a couple of lines of Tina Turner's "Your Simply the Best" which was being played at full noise at the start of the hill.

And then we were climbing.

And climbing.

And still climbing.

Around 1.7km later we finally got to the top.  And boy was I glad to see it.  I had walked for a couple of small stretches up the hill but only for about 50m in total and so I was inwardly really happy with my effort.  I was pretty stuffed though so might have been outwardly a little grumpy... (sorry you know who!)

After conquering the hill we did a hard turn right at Vaucluse and started heading south to Bondi.

And hit a headwind.  The stormy weather had arrived and was blowing hard - although not as hard as we've encountered in Wellington!  So not too bad, and it wasn't raining so that was a bonus.  By that stage it was also pretty much downhill to Bondi where we had a 1km run along the promenade (which felt like 2km) and then a hairpin turn into the final finishing straight - which also looked like it was about 2km away but was probably only about 300m!

Crossing the finish line was a joyous occasion - a smidge under 1hr 30min and a good enough time to keep us in the green seeded group next year.

Oh, and even better?  St Pete and I crossed the finish line together and recorded exactly the same finish time.  But I beat him by 12 places...go figure.  But yahoo - I'll take that victory!

So it's been a good way to spend the winter and my running has been chugging along quite nicely.

But it's not over yet.

I have one event left for this winter, and it's a biggie.  Next month St Pete and I take on the Sydney Marathon.  With a 5:30 cut-off, my number one goal is to finish inside that time and with a PB of 5:22 for that distance I'm going to have to be on top of my game to achieve that.  I'm well on track to get there but, even so, a marathon is a marathon and, like ironman, anything can happen on the day to derail all our best laid plans.

No pressure!