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.

April!

Upon initial thought processes of what I'd so generously be revealing to the world about my life I came to realise I had not provided a prose recapping the month known as March. To be completely honest, the thought crossed my mind throughout the days bringing March 2014 to an end. But act upon them I did not.
Although, there were a few races from that month and given that pre and post competition banter is always included, all mention worthy escapades have been shared.

Speaking of escapades. April saw a few exciting moments.
Just to clear things up - No, there is no woman in my life named April who has been accompanying me anywhere.
It is with the utmost of regrets that I inform you I am simply speaking of the month.

I can't remember the exact date but I'm fairly sure it was early in the month that I made the decision to drive down to Melbourne. A hazy cloud of excitement had developed in my brain so minor pieces of information were lost.

The plan was to reside at the Tobin-White abode until further notice..
Not really, I had 2 weeks in mind mainly because:
- It was nearing Easter time
- I probably should spend time with my family, and
- I'm leaving all connections with reality for a few months.

The main reasons for the trip was because I had been in talks with Danielle about traveling through Europe with VIS. I wanted firstly to get a feel for how they train and what to expect with certain sessions and what not.
As well as the fact that Mitch was on a break and our newly appointed athlete training partner friend Blake spends many of the ideal training hours at work. So I'd be training el solo.
And Keiran was overseas on family related tasks. Something about a wedding and family holiday. I was confused because I thought super coaches don't take days off.

Anyway all of the above = let's go to Melbourne.

The two weeks flew by and I had been left feeling very confident about Europe round 2 and also quite positive about the crew and what is to come.

Week 1 I struggled with the intensity. After communication had been achieved Keiran put my competitive mind at rest, and reminded me that I'd just had a mid-season break and aerobic had been the focus.
He said it may be too much but if I'm coping then that's absolutely fantastic.

Week 2 went much better.

After a long drive I'd finally reached the HQ. For the most part training has been boring without ATPF and Mitch.

I look forward to relaying monthly information about my travels and the prompt updates from my races. I don't expect anyone to be sitting on their hands waiting for an update but if you see I've gotten my act together and written something then I'd appreciate your time.

2014 Mooloolaba Continental Cup

I am unsure if there are any unwritten rules on race report subject copyright. If there are then I offer my sincerest of apologies, Bugz.

But,

"Sometimes, you just suck."

My warm up procedures left me feeling as I usually do pre race.

However, I was a little more stressed and anxious than usual because of transition access being delayed due to lack of preparation (not on my part).

Like always, I'd taken time prior to the start picking my spot. I'd decided on the right hand side and, luckily, I was fourth in line for introduction so I managed to get exactly where I wanted.

Space was left for, hopefully, some cluey competent swimmers.

As optimism prevailed I found myself out in front of the main pack trailing the super fish Shane Barrie.

I kept contact up until the first buoy and I was pushing incredibly hard to maintain contact. Shortly past the first buoy my phosphocreatine system had been exhausted and I had to back off and find a more sustainable pace to hold.

Ticked that box then upon swim exit I even had a bonus gap on the main pack.

Running to transition was fairly cruisy. No urgency needed because of said gap. 

I jumped on the bike and started out hard just to get through the rolling hills and out to the highway.

The pack caught me just before we turned and got on the highway.

I'll keep the recap of the next 55 minutes short because it was all but pathetic.

Every year the majority of the field comes together and so everyone switches off. There were about 6-8 people trying to change that. The rest were soft and useless and unwilling to work.

The 'soft and useless' proved they were capable cyclists at the turn around where a few of us tried to breakaway. Everyone of the leech's hung on.

Respect lost but I suppose, kudos. 

Onto the run!

I was just about last into transition because all of a sudden the whole pack dangerously crossed the double lines and weaved precariously through one another coming over the last hill.

Things were looking grim. I noticed Jake Montgomery was first out. I had just put my shoes on and he was almost at the roundabout. A solid 250m away. Panic button had been pressed, pressed again, hit, punched, double fist pounded and jack hammered. I was trying to remain calm but I was down, too far back for anybody's liking, particularly mine.

I went out at a pace I knew I could hold in order to catch up. Not thinking beyond that really.

I had managed to bridge the gap by the time we got to the bottom of 'the Mooloolaba hill'. By this time I wasn't feeling too good I had gone too hard, I knew it and there's nothing I could do now.

Conveniently, as I caught up and uncomfortably settled to the pace a move was made. Then Birtwhistle cranked it up.

I managed to hang on for a bit, but by the time we got to the turn around I'd dropped off. I tried not to panic and thought "just relax and you'll be able work your way into a solid rhythm".

The further we ran the bigger the gradual gap opened up. By the time we hit halfway they had, from memory, about a 50m gap.

I hit the downhill for the second lap and metaphorically continued going downhill.

After the cloud of disappointment had cleared I was able to derive the positives and the what-not-to-do's out of the race and the preparation.

So that's about it.

Currently in discussions about what I'm doing over the coming months. Much to be revealed in next instalment of the monthly reports. But firstly, A plan needs to be set in place.

2014 Devonport OTU Olympic Distance Championships

1st year u23.

Second Olympic distance race.

Having raced 13 days prior.

Honestly, none of that discommoded nor rattled me.

What did, however, was trying to comprehend the fact I was about to spend a whole one thousand, five hundred meters on the absolute rivet against the best triathletes of Australia and New Zealand from this generation.

It's hard to tell yourself that you will be fine and that you can swim ok, when you know full well that a quarter of the field is capable of sticking it to the best in the business.

And that's completely disregarding the following 2 thirds of the race.

48 hours before the start it was absolute mayhem inside my big cranium.

BUT! 24 hours before the start, after a few minutes of confabulation I was set straight by the master.

Once down at the race area and in preparation I felt as if an internal coruscating beacon of confidence was burning holes in my skin.

Being one of the "big boys" was an incredible feeling.

I knew lots of people would be avidly watching every second of the race so I wanted to get out there and perform like I haven't before.

Keiran wasn't there pre race due to an emergency so I was left to fend for myself and pick the ideal start position.

I had a fair idea from days of practise prior to the race so it wasn't all bad. Following a short wait, introduction then walk down the beach, We were away.

Bounding through the shallow waters of Devonport, fending off those who were headed right, eager follow the better athletes I was aimed slightly left of the buoy like I'd practised.

I was where I wanted to be and had positioned myself well on the start line. I was quick to react and therefore toward the front of the pack at the beginning of the swimming component.

Not long into it an athlete came past me. Certainly to my surprise (possibly not to his) I later found out none other than @kerrballs had lead the horde.

Also to my surprise, the first lap was relatively easy. Until the seven hundred and fifty first meter.

I'd dropped back a few places shortly after rounding the buoy that lead us into lap 2. I had found myself tussling with Aaron Royle, following this I like to think I dropped back to his feet deliberately. Truth be told, I was just about getting dropped.

At this point I looked up and noticed a gap was forming. Even though I knew there were swimmers on my feet I didn't want to risk narrowly missing the front pack by a second or two so I dug deep. Real deep. And caught back up.

I'd barely managed to hang on. Then before I knew it, I was in transition un-racking my bike.

I'd mucked up the process and heard

"HELMET MATT!"

Oh damn. I'd forgotten to clip it up. Rookie.

(Ps thank you spectator)

I stopped and lent my bike against me and saw a Technical Official out of the corner of my eye and knew I'd have a penalty to serve later on.

Urgency at the beginning of the bike meant I completely forgot about the muck up.

I was out just behind Fisher and a few others and wasted no time catching Aaron who was just ahead. I saw him impatiently looking back, and looking back, waiting for a pack to form around him. Once I caught up I expected a turn to be made from him or someone to come around me as I just pulled a few of us together but this did not happen and Aaron was rapidly looking back and flailing his right arm signalling to pull through along with shouting the instruction.

Naturally, I wanted to ignore him and do what I could to preserve what I had in the tank.

But the intimidation factor sunk in quick and I did my part.

A fairly large pack had been formed, we got to the hill and within seconds a few had already been dropped. North street really sorted things out quickly. One hill down, five to go.

During the second lap I hadn't taken many turns. Which was unusual, but those boys were strong.

About to hit the hill on the second lap, I was preempting it and decided to get into the little chain ring early.

Baaaad idea!

Chain = dropped...

After many futile attempts at getting it back on with the shifter it was still dangling unhooked on the teeth of the chainring.

My fingers were pressed hard against the lever periodically loosening and tightening the tension on the cable. I could see and feel it trying to catch on.

Nothing.

I'd shifted all the way down to the 12 tooth cog in an attempt at having more luck with slight positioning of the chain further to the right.

Yet another futile attempt.

The last resort was getting off and that was what I had resulted to.

Finally all was good and I jumped back on only to find I had a 52-12 combination going on. Certainly not ideal when you're at the base of North Street hill! To make matters more aggravating, over the days leading into the race, I had spent time trying to drop my chain. I threw every possible recipe for disaster at the mechanics and she held up fine. Not poor maintenance. Just bad luck I guess.

Anyway! I got going and once I had a second to look up, I saw the boys were at the top of the hill.

Panic had well and truly set in and I went as hard as possible up the hill, rounded the bollard hoping to pop over the crest and see the group taking the left hand bend at the base.

Unfortunately they were not in sight. By the time I'd descended they had come past me and were headed back to transition area. All extremely optimistic hope I had left of catching them went out the window.

Adrenaline and frustration were rampaging though my veins and I was still fighting a losing battle. Finally I became cognisant of the implications of chasing a ceaselessly building gap. So I eased off and spent what felt like forever waiting for the next group.

Finally they'd caught up and I'd resumed effort with them.

Shortly I became frustrated once more. I had never been in such an unorganised pack. Everyone was reluctantly pulling half-assed turns, peeling off to the wrong side, trying to sit on the back and hoping to go unnoticed. It was absolute chaos.

Eventually we bridged to Brendan Sexton who had been victim to the pace of the lead pack.

Around the 4th lap I noticed Ryan Bailie and Jake Birtwhistle had also struggled with the power of those boys.

Our pack got things sorted around the 4th or 5th lap.

We had about a lap and a half of semi organised work then it all fell apart again. We were still slowly catching Ryan and Jake sheerly because of power in numbers but we weren't organised enough to make it happen.

Heading into transition one of the kiwi's that bridged up to us was trying to get any advantage he could but it was pointless. We were all going to get off together, everyone was fresh enough from inadequate consistent efforts to hold his wheel.

Running through T2 I was conscious of not going too hard. Jake Montgomery followed Brendan Sexton out of transition at a blistering pace but I remained complacent with my initial effort.

Before the first turn around on lap one I had caught Jake Montgomery but Brendan was still flying ahead.

Toward the end of lap one I glanced up and saw the penalty box. A big two and a nine were first up on the list and I thought, oh that's me, I've got a penalty to serve. Forgot about that.

Apparently Keiran was yelling take it when you need it. I certainly needed it later but I didn't think ahead so I just did it straight up to get it out of the way.

I kept things consistent for the next two laps. Holding it together was more important than chasing and undoubtably popping later into the 4 lap run.

Coming back into the transition area with two and a half kilometres to go I could feel my right quad struggling with the already hour and fifty minutes of thrashing it had endured, and it was beginning to cramp. I became aware that it was only doing this on the return trip of the laps because of the extra effort into a headwind so I just thought get to the turn around and worry about it when it hurts again.

Pete came past me in the 3rd lap. I wanted to hold my own but also wanted to give a little more so I tried my best to minimise the time he was putting into me. By the return, and final, 1.25km he was a fair distance ahead but not as far as I was expecting given his pace when catching and over taking me.

I could feel my quad beginning to fail me again. With no further laps to be done I told myself to worry about it when I've finished. That kind of worked. But I was struggling hard in the closing 400m.

Not a bad result for my second Olympic Distance, or Standard Distance race I should say.

I finished 9th overall and was the 3rd u23's athlete to cross the line.

As Declan Wilson tweeted, it was an honour to grace the dais with Jake Birtwhistle. And for me, Declan also. Don't mind a third to very quality athletes. 

Onto Mooloolaba Continental Cup. See you all there!