An Unexpected Start to 2015

1 week… 2 weeks…3 weeks…4 weeks… not merely a whisper of motivation passed through my mind, and I was fast running out of time.

My little brother, Mitch, committed himself to an Ironman 70.3 teams race on the 19th of October. Due to a certain academic goal he wishes to chase - one that I cannot fathom - and he had to pull out.

I was quick to throw my hand in the air, purely out of excitement for a new challenge. Since my return from the Triathlon World Championships in Edmonton in the early days of September I had planned on a short break and a quick return to fitness.

During the weeks ending September and starting October I gave training a good college try but nothing came of it. Once I hit the weekend of the 4th & 5th I had about 40 kilometres of running behind me for that week and I began to panic. I buckled down even at times I didn’t want to train and produced 55km for the next week and without a single thought of taper I’d hit 64km on the Friday before I left for Port Macquarie.

An easy jog the day before and warm up moments before the race on Sunday I’d clocked up 70km. Fortunately the thought of that volume prior to a 21.1km race didn’t hit me until the post race pain did, the following day.

Before Sunday the 19th I had never done anymore than 12km hard in one go and my longest run had only been 20km on the dot. I didn’t let myself ponder that thought for too long pre race because I knew it could potentially throw me off my game.

It was a strange feeling having to wait the amount of time I did for my part of the relay. Usually I’m waiting 20 or so intense crowd packed minutes at super sprint relay events with an exotic and foreign voice shouting at the microphone, commentating every second of the fast paced and intense races. So the 2 and a half hour wait for our cyclist to enter transition was different, time seemed to stand still while I was waiting, but at the same time, with every minute that passed I got more and more excited to burst out of transition and smoke this 21.1km race.

“He’ll be in before you know it…He’ll be in before you know it…” like a favourite song on repeat my brain kept ticking over with that thought. Eventually It’ll give you the shits and you’ll hate it but you won't stop listening to it until that moment.

I sat in transition with my eyes closed and head back against the fence. I knew our swimmer would let me know when our boy was in sight.

“He’s here, He’s in” I shot to my feet and jumped to the rack. Expecting a rush of athletes sprinting through transition, pushing for every inch they could as it is in ITU racing. I looked over, about 100m away he had come to a stop hopped off his bike and jogged into transition. initially I was about to tear up the rows in transition and hurry him up but a voice entered my head, “we’ve got 8 or so minutes on the 2nd team”

It’s like a switch flicked in my head. The urgency in a four hour race and Ironman in general does not compare to an ITU race. every ounce of energy is wasted where’s it’s needed. A sprint through transition for a mere 10 seconds could cost 10 minutes or more in half and full marathons. So I bit my tongue and waited.

I was down on one knee waiting to unstrap the timing chip and throw it around my ankle. He racked his bike and chucked his foot next to mine. Whether it was adrenaline or habit I shot up and sprinted out of transition and settled into a comfortable pace… Comfortable for 10km that is!

Soon after I realised I had done half a lap of two, and I knew how I was running wouldn't be sustainable.

I had planned on sticking to a certain pace but that never happens.

Once I came through to begin lap 2, I had settled into a nice rhythm. Once I hit the open road heading out to the turn around, a wave of mildly forceful wind hit me like a ton of bricks. No crowd support, just the suffering athletes and the heat of the sun coupled with a breeze strong enough to put you off your pace, and I had found the wall. I pushed through the the u-turn and brought myself back up to pace with a slight tail wind for the next 2km. Once I got back into the crowded area the wind had disappeared and the sun was ever strong.

I was in a world of pain I hadn’t experienced. Chest and breathing checked out fine but my muscles  were fatigued unlike before. Hip flexors didn’t want to expand and contract anymore and each glute didn't want to hold my body weight on their own. And I still had 5km to go.

Thankfully there was patches of spectators throughout the final loop. I was dipping into slow paces then desperately bringing myself back out time and time again. When I saw a sign indicating 20km I pulled myself together and finished strong.

Singlet and pants soaked in water, electrolytes, red bull and coca cola. Blood saturating the front end of my left sock and an unwilling collection of muscles and I’d finally crossed the line. Dazed and struck with exhaustion I glanced at my watch and saw 1:17, 21.3km. Hopeful for 1:15 I was slightly disappointed. To be honest; there is still a trace of disappointment running through my body. Half of me is annoyed because I wanted a better result, But the other half knows I was unfit and the 2 and a half weeks of preparation for the longest run I’d ever do as a race is reason enough for an unpleasing time. I’d say I’m looking forward to another crack at it but for the foreseeable future I’ll be sticking to ITU racing.

Sending a big thank you to Mandy Struthers at Avanti Bikes and Dan Cleary for the support and setting me up on a schmick Avanti Corsa DR. Pre Port Mac race I was eager to belt around town on it but obviously that wouldn't have served me too well for Sunday. It was good to jump on and spin the legs out pre race though. Van't wait to see what it can do this season!

Big ups to Nige Renton (aka brother-in-law-to-be) for getting me in working order pre race and also a massive thank you to BONT Cycling and ZEALOUS Swimwear for the jumping behind me again for the 2015 season. Can't ask for better gear, get yourself some gear from these brands and you won't be disappointed.

2014 World Championships - Edmonton, Canada.

Friday, August 29. Room 1243 of the Westin Edmonton. Cross legged leaning against a headboard.

News of teammate and training partner, Declan Wilson’s withdrawal had been broken to me.

Nervously glancing around the room, my ears replete with a dull humming sound. A rush of emotions and scenarios meandered through my mind at a million miles an hour. Seconds of silence seemed to last for hours.

I had spent the last month and a half mentally preparing and revisiting the ‘play-book’ I’d created in my mind. Each and every intricate and realistic detail of dozens of scenarios had been carefully though out. I was calm, confident and prepped, mentally, for however the race was to pan out.

I witnessed first hand the struggles he has had and the hard work he put in. So initially I was devastated for Declan and upset that he was forced to withdraw. That threw me out a bit as I had done what I had to, to ensure I was physically ready to carry out my roll as a domestique.

“The race is yours now”.

That was the icing on the cake.

Have I done enough? What if I don’t perform? What if I don’t run like I have been in training? Will I make the front pack? What if I’m off the back, do I bust my ass or do I be conservative?

This playbook was barely visible at the bottom of the shelf shrouded by a thin layer of dust accumulated over the years.

I gazed with what felt like an anxiously blank look back and forth to Danielle and Declan following every word, concentrating like I never thought I could. Desperately trying to suppress the panic thoughts.

They spent a good half hour reassuring me. I had done the work. I had earned my spot on the team. Nobody else deserved it more than I did. I am in ‘career-best’ form. The numbers add up in training.

The only piece missing was confidence. All I needed was to back myself and I would have a fantastic race.

Before I could blink I was stepping off my bike down at the race area with Cam the mechanic leading Kenji and I through the crowds and to the gates of the athlete check in area…

It’s hard to remember there onwards.

Wednesday, September 10. Bella Natural Food co in Terrigal, New South Wales. Presently in AEST.

Tucked away in the corner sipping coffee brewed by a fellow athlete who was able to secure a job, I find myself trying to tap into blurred memories. Once I left athlete check-in I went on autopilot right until I received an elbow from hell to the right eye and suffered water filled left goggle.

I’ve chosen to repress the memory from there until putting my feet in my shoes on the bike.

Saturday, August 30. Emily Murphy Park Rd NW, Edmonton, Canada. Aboard the majestic TCR Advanced SL1

Sent straight from god himself, Simon Viain.

I raced Simon in Holten, Netherlands. He had a successful solo break away and put quite a bit of time into the pack. So when I saw him pass me I thought, ‘ you beauty’. I jumped on his wheel and composed myself over the next 45 seconds as he dragged us closer to two athletes just ahead. At this point he glanced back, not seeking assistance. Just seeing who was on. I left it for a few more seconds as we closed in on the two ahead of us. I timed my turn so he was beside me resulting in a hard acceleration by the other two or consequently not getting on our wheel.

I could see up the road and all I noticed was scattered athletes, one or two here and there just before a left sweeping downhill off-ramp. I wasn’t sure on the skill and confidence of the guys we were dragging around so I moved to the front as we neared the left-hander. I took it exceptionally well and passed an athlete at a decent pace. Once it straightened out I looked back and saw a gap, to the 3 or 4 that was our pack, being lead by Simon. So I didn’t back off, I knew he would jump on urgently and sit for a bit.

We had rounded up a couple more athletes once we completed the first of two 11km loops. Heading out on the reasonably flatter sections before the hill we were working exceptionally well bar 1 or 2 passengers. We hit the hill and I moved to the front. I had done a lot of hill work so I wanted to take control here and play at my strengths. Once we hit the switch back I flicked my elbow and Simon came through for the final few hundred gradually inclining meters. I had to get up and accelerate onto his wheel, this was the first and only time had to work real hard and I thought, ‘shit, gonna have to put in some so he doesn’t get rid of me’.

We crested and took the multiple corners through to the next straight. We passed through a tunnel and picked up a few more athletes there. And I glanced back to see our pack catching back up. We had been able to see the front pack for the majority of the second lap, reeling them in quite quickly. I took the left hand corner after we exited the tunnel; at this point we were no more than 100 meters down on the front pack. I called the other guys through and Simon pulled through quite solidly. Nobody was on his wheel so I looked back and they were all sitting on me, expecting a free ride.

“What the **** you lazy ***** pull through, there right there”

That proved unsuccessful. I dropped back deliberately hoping to spark some adrenaline in some of them but that didn’t work either they all started looking at each other. I saw Simon was on the pack so I jumped from the back and flew past the pack and held a max effort for about 30 seconds till I was on. As I got there I was thought, “WHAT have I done?”

There was another little hill coming up and I was praying for a solid ride up it instead of a tactical approach. Another sprint would have hurt me a lot.

The rest of the bike was quite easy. I figured nobody is going to manage a break away now so what’s the point in wasting any more energy.

We rolled around the next 4 x 5.6km loops. Every now and then there was a jump off the front but none of them were an out of the saddle effort for me. Things got pretty chaotic in the final few kilometers, I did what I could to move toward the front without risking anything. I was feeling pretty good so I didn’t want to jeopardize the chances I feel I had.

The dismount line followed a sharp right and left hand corners so things could have been disastrous. I was on the inside for the right-hander and outside for the left. People were throwing a leg over in between the two corners, having to take a hard left with your inside leg down and all your weight on the left seemed like a pretty unwise decision to me. So I shot around on the outside and prepared for a fast dismount. All went to plan and gained a few places. All that work was quickly undone; I may as well have been trying to fit my feet into empty ketchup sachets.

Eventually I made it out with a small deficit. After months and months of reflection and discussion coupled with hard work my brain finally clicked. I usually just think alright, lets chip away at this, instead something just clicked and I thought to myself,

“There’s no reason why you can’t”

I used the rise out of transition to catch the tail end of the group and move a few places up. The road drifted left and we glided with it into a slight dipper and onto the downhill section.

“Shit, I’m feelin pretty good right now. This is awesome”

I decided I wanted to move further through the pack. A rush of adrenaline came over me and I accelerated hard and sat back in. I held my position as we flew down to the turn around.

The first signs of pain hit me on the return ascent. I managed to hang on as we crested and went over the dipper and headed back into transition.

Lap 2 was a bit more of a struggle; I lost contact with the pack on the rise out of transition and furthermore coming up the hill from the turn around. I lost about 20 seconds on the lead group and went through 5km in about 15:30.

For the next lap and a half I managed to jump on the shoulder of the young Canadian, Tyler Mislawchuk. He eventually got rid of me through the Canadian filled grandstand/finish chute and roads leading in and out.

I began to fall apart from this point, despite this I completely emptied the tank and pushed hard for a 12^th place finish and first Aussie across the line in the u23 race.

“Not bad for a domestique”

-       Keiran Barry

“See, you do belong here”

-       Danielle Stefano

Holten - Premium European Cup

I guess triathlon is, in a way, a contact sport. As many of you may already know from being kicked, punched, damn near drowned, battered and bruised upon the swim finish. But it doesn't necessarily matter how "massive" you are.
As I've so recently discovered, the fact that I am "massive" also means I'm fine when it comes to the swim.

Well…no, absolutely not.
I've just got something between my ears, and sometimes the sucker makes good decisions for me.

Holten was one of, if not the most brutal swims I've been in.
Yeah I dove in alright and popped up half a body length ahead, but cluey athletes on either side of me jumped right on my hips.
There was a brief moment of which I was clear from the chaos, but the drag readily became too much. Eventually I found myself levelled off with contenders 14 and 16.
Without the guidance of the 'ol black line we began bumping into each other like dodge'm'cars only minus the safe guard of the rubber skirting.
Eventually we got sick of offering leeway to each other and began fighting for clear water. This only slowed the three of us down and before we knew it the lead out on the left and on the right began to merge and we were inundated with flying elbows and fists bearing knuckle dusters.

Okay, maybe not knuckle dusters but there was a lot of fists-connecting-with body-parts action and I just could not get my lower body to surface. And every time I tried to look up someone would smack the back of my head.

Something had to change and by god did it have to happen quickly.
I began throwing my head as high as I could, ignoring the periodic whacking and glancing forward to spot any gaps.

Much to my dismay. None, there were.
All I could see was the big yellow buoy slightly off to the left. Staring straight back at me laughing because it knew it had front row seats to an emulation of Pearl Harbour.

The right side was forbidden ground because there were 50 odd athletes over there, so I looked directly left again and again until I could see how far over it was to clear water.
I was sitting on the hip of contender 14 and saw he was neck and neck with 2 other athletes to his left.
So if I wanted to cross The risk was six heels having a free shot each at my face. As soon as these guys felt someone swimming on their legs they were going to start frantically kicking to scare off and/or injure whoever it was. White Mr. T or not.

If I didn't, however, I'd have a guaranteed 2nd pack or worse out of the water. So without a second to lose I launched myself across. Pulling my arms through any possible body of water or grasping whatever limb was in the way.
I made it across without being hit, I think.

The rest is certainly not history, I made it up to a group of 3 pace-lining it to the buoy and once we rounded it, I thought it'd be smooth sailing. But of course it wasn't. Skipping a few hundred meters and I'm situated definite front pack. The following sighting that took place made me realise this was definitely too easy. A gap had opened up between a handful of athletes and I. Currently 3 deep, I decided to go for it and catch up.
I made it to the feet of the leader and went round the buoy smoothly. Most of them headed slightly right so I was left with a clear line in.
After the huge exertion I had just got in contact and eased off slightly too much. By that time it was deep enough to run so nothing more could be done in the water.
I ran like a busted ass into transition, my arms did not want to move freely and I was hurting.
I tried to gather my thoughts to ensure my transition was quick. Unfortunately it wasn't great and the gap was still there.

There were a few strong cyclists in that front five so when I jumped on the bike I was in a state of panic. Unfortunately I didn't get a foot to touch down past the mount line so I incurred a penalty.

Not even thinking about it I got around the first corner and drilled it for a good minute and a half to two minutes until I caught.
Similar to catching in the swim I thought things would get easier but I had to continue pushing hard to keep up and it took a good three or four minutes before I could join in and work with the pack.

I was unsure of what was happening behind us but i knew they hadn't caught so I kept working hard with the boys.
It was about 9km into town and that's where we started the laps. The second pack caught us just as we began the first lap and post race I discovered the chase group behind them were no more than 20 seconds down.
Once we were out of sight however the gap eventually blew out to 2 minutes over the five laps.

The main part of concern was 'the hill'. It was a rather gentle 5-7% grade with a kick up about halfway through of 10-11%.

There were some obvious strong riders who were taking charge over the hill and they went over at a pretty decent pace. Simon Viain had opened up a decent gap and some had gone after him. I thought leaving one guy out would be fine but I didn't want others working with him. However, he didn't need no help.

So on the third lap I took the lead as we hit the kick up and tried to reel in the blokes ahead. I got to two of them pretty quick and went around in a bid to pull back the lone chaser. But as I looked back in hope of someone taking a turn I noticed I'd opened up a gap.
I didn't immediately ease up I just figured if they start looking at each other there is a chance I could get away with the lone chaser but I wasn't going to commit to a break.

Sure enough the group caught us at the beginning of the decent so with no wasted energy at a breakaway attempt level I joined back in and did what I had to, to stay near the front and avoid what is happening oh so often in the Tour de France.

Concluding the cycle segment I jumped off in the front few and remained there for the opening kilometre before I began to find a more sustainable pace.
Post Chengdu Keiran and I discussed my pacing issues. I'm still "finding my feet" over 10k so Chengdu was a 'don't go out too hard and blow up' test. That I did and discovered I could have gone harder over the opening 2.5km. Holten was another opportunity to do so.
Given I hadn't set my sights on u23 world championships this year I have been fine with trying different things to see how I handle them.

I went pretty hard for about 1600m then I found myself going past people who had gone out far harder than they could handle. So I deceived to settle into a pace at that point.
Once I did a few other athletes came past me with adrenaline rushing through their bodies still.
Matt Sharpe and Matt Roberts went past and opened a slight gap on me.
We were almost finished lap one and I saw Pete Kerr dart right, as I got closer I noticed it was the penalty box and as always I checked it to see if I was on there. As you already know, I was.

I decided to just jump in and get it done. Pete ran served his about 8-10 seconds before me. So once I was out of there I tried to hold pace to Pete.

Coming into the 3rd lap I caught Sharpy and Roberts. I had been going pretty solid and I didn't want them hanging on as a went past, so I sat on them for a short 100-150m then went around slightly over race pace and settled back in once I felt I was clear.

Starting the final lap I was pushing and pushing for a quicker pace and my body didn't want a bar of it. I began to stitch up and that slowed me down a lot. Fortunately I came around after 500-600m later and I dug as deep as I could to finish off the last 1.5k.

All in all it was a solid hit out which positively reinforces my head space in regard to the progression I've made this season alone and furthermore during my time in Spain with the Victorian Institue of Sport gang.

Things are looking up!

Chengdu World Cup

I have a methodical approach to race day. Typically for a morning race my gear is pre-packed (obviously) and as I lay in bed I work backwards from athlete line up and allocate times of where I have to be and how long I’ll have.

I didn’t have a whole lot of ‘spare time’ for this race so I knew I’d be cutting it fine as it is. Of course, as luck would have it: there was a dilemma.

I’ve always wondered how a few pieces of timber strewn together in Burke’s Backyard are the dictators of compliance or rule breaking. It is imperative that your bike set-up complies. At the ITU events of which I competed in previously (Elwood, Devonport and Mooloolaba) I checked out 100% fine, so worrisome I was not.

I handed my bike to a man perched behind a seemingly homemade timber contraption that was to tell me if my position complied with UCI rules.

“Sorry sir, your seat position is 2cm too far forward.” Said a feint voice in a local Chinese accent.

You, Have to be kidding me.

Jesse Featonby was with me and had his checked once I moved my bike to the side. He too was not cleared; we were pretty dumbfounded especially because Jesse had participated in ITU sanctioned events not unlike this one.

This sparked confusion and debate between the officials and us. After a good amount of time wasted it was clear we were going to have to change our seat positions. With obvious unimpressed and hateful body language we did so and moved on.

Already hard-pressed for time I had no option but to skip some of my run warm up in order to fit in a swim.

I managed to get to get the swim completed and two of three dive starts. I felt quite ignorant doing the third dive right in front of the whistle blower who parades along the pontoon signaling to get out of the water, thankfully there were many people still swimming.

I jumped out, removed the wetsuit and wrapped myself in clothing and towels to stay warm. We approached the line up area and had been approximately placed in order. There was barely a gap in the crowd as spectators gazed upon the foreign bodies jumping up and down, swinging limbs around and doing last minute activation. It was a pretty surreal feeling, even though half the crowd was most likely paid to attend.

The minutes seemed to fly by and in no time I was under the water streamlining like this guy

I was out front for a while, until some American seemed to come at a 90-degree angle straight into my ribs. I looked up and noticed I was heading dead straight toward the first buoy, all I could think was; “what was that, guy?” then carried on swimming.

I’m not sure if that set me back a few strokes or not but seconds after that there were humans every damn where. Being a new experience and all I became quite panicked as I was getting sucked further and further back with every limb that found its way to my head, back or legs at a thousand newton meters of force.

So I did a fairly rational thing, said sorry in my head and swam straight over some poor soul to get the inside line.

All was well until I realized it was going to be one hundred times worse as soon as the 10 wide and 30 deep group of guys would too want the inside line. Fortunately it wasn’t as predicted. Still rougher than any swim turn I’ve ever been involved in, but I survived.

It was pretty cool having to get out and dive back in. Apart from having to deliberately muck up my dive so I didn’t land on someone, the rest of the swim was pretty similar to the start. Inside lines here, get on feet there, pass this guy blah, blah, blah you know the drill.

Running through to transition I could see a big group of guys 100m down the track and I knew I couldn’t waste a second so I ran as hard as my body would allow.

It was easy to spot my bike with the yellow wall tires so I’m thankful for that trend that I followed.

Got my helmet on and raced out of transition, was nearly taken out by Boxy (we had a good laugh post race about that) then got one foot in before I spotted an Irishman drilling it just ahead, there would be plenty of time to put my other foot in so I dropped a few gears and caught up to him. Instead of staying on his wheel I darted to the right and hammered it past him. There were 3 rises in the first half of the lap. I lead over rise one and the Irishman took over on the decent, I came back around for rise two and decided to stay on the front as we sped past a small group of 10 and saw the front pack heading over the third rise. I stayed on the front and drilled it over the third rise and tried to peel off on the decent but the Irishman didn’t want to take a turn. I tried waving him through, but there was no chance so thankfully the pack was less than a hundred meters ahead.

None of the athletes we passed managed to get on as we passed them, but before long there was roughly a 60 man lead pack. Some of the skill of the athletes in the bunch made me less than miserable. It was painful to watch and scary to be in close proximity of a specific few. So I stayed clear of the back for as much of the ride as possible. I felt that a crash was inevitable so on the final lap I made sure I was no deeper than 5^th wheel and in the closing 3km I was on the front and didn’t let anyone drag half the pack around me. I was on the front around the two right-handers in prediction of ending up on the inside of the final two left-handers. All went to plan and of course there was a crash around the first left-hander. I put the pressure on out of the corner and made sure I would be first into transition.

One of the Russians had a ‘balls out’ sprint around me in the final straight but no one was on his wheel so I let him get the jump on me. I was second into transition and 2^nd (I think) out.

Not much is mentionable on the run. My goal for this race/season has been to find my feet over 10k. So the plan was to build into the run instead of trying to smash it and end up running like it’s a Sunday jog.

Being, now, in Spain and having to get settled in etc. I have only just had the chance to chat about the race with Keiran. We discussed it all and he was pleased with how I raced and how I paced myself but asked if I could have gone out harder.

Of course, I said.

You may be thinking that was a “Well, why didn’t you?” kind of approach by him, but my run has had a tendency to be like:

Good à drop off dramatically à come good in the final kilometers.

So this was more of an experiment. I said what I did in the opening 2.5km was more than manageable.

Good, so next race you try for less manageable and get to a ‘balls out’ effort earlier on, said Keiran.

Seeing yourself drop from 2^nd all the way down to around 45^th in 5km isn’t very encouraging. But the feeling of making up places certainly is.

Sure, I only made up about 10 places, but in this race alone I probably doubled the amount of places I’d made up on the run leg of every triathlon I’ve completed over the past 3 years. They certainly aren’t average athletes at this level so I was pretty stoked with that run.

The plan is to experiment again at a local race here in Spain then head to Holten in July for a good hard hit out.