The power of words

As endurance athletes (yes, I am finally comfortable calling myself an athlete) we are constantly measuring ourselves by numbers: how many hours we have trained this week; what kilometre pace we have done; what average speed we achieved; what our splits are; how fast our transition was; how much we weigh; etc; etc. However, our performance relies on the power of words.


A lot has been written on the power of words and I am fully aware of the value associated with being a good wordsmith – after all I earn a living from words. But, it has only really been the last couple of months that I have realised the true power of words.

Words impact on an athlete’s performance in so many ways. At the Challenge Wanaka training camp in October, for example, Sam Warriner reiterated several times the mantras that she uses to power her through a race: ‘Long and Strong’ for her swim; ‘In the Box’ (and others) on her ride, and; ‘Quick Feet’ on her run. She repeats these simple expressions over and over to sharpen her focus. Geoff has also given me words to focus on while training and in the race and several of the websites that I have used (especially those relating to swimming – like Swim Smooth) have discussed the value of simple expressions that help improve and maintain good technique.

Recently I have also read that researchers in the UK found that athletes who used the swear words of their choice during training performed better than those who were forbidden from using any bad language. I tried this on my long ride the other day and I have to say, even if I didn’t perform any better, it made me feel better to swear at the top of my lungs as I battled my way into the gale force winds. I yelled the word five or six times and then just got on with it.

Conversely, words can be extremely distracting. I frequently have conversations with myself in my head when I am training, especially on long easy sessions. My mind will flip from one topic to the next in an instant. This became very clear to me on a run through Hagley Park when I was at a conference in Christchurch in November. Often the different strands of the conversation would overlap or one part would abruptly interrupt another. A typical 30 second section of the run went something like this:

Quick feet, quick feet. Shit it’s hot. Man I feel like crap today. Quick feet. Quick fe. She looks hot. I’m quicker than him. This surface is difficult to run on. Quick fee. Ahh, that shade is good. I wonder what the earth quake really felt like. Get out of the road you bloody idiot. I really have to concentrate better. There is a great blog post in all of this. Quick feet. Quick feet. I could start it like. I am gonna call it the power of words. Quick f. Shit my foot hurts.

This went on for the entire 30 minutes of the run and it was one of my worst of the year. The conversation just would not stop and I could not focus. I guess that is one of the things that sets top athletes apart from the rest. They can concentrate on a very narrow set of objectives and use simple mantras to become totally and utterly focussed on the task at hand. My problem is that I can only do this for very short periods of time (a few minutes, maximum) before my mind starts to wander. On my better training sessions and races, I am able to bring my mind back to focus relatively quickly by using those few key words, but I can never maintain it for an entire session or race.

I have also begun to reflect on when words become truly powerful. For me, words without action are vacuous and hollow. They lack meaning and passion. Perhaps that is why Challenge Wanaka is so meaningful for me. It allows me to put my words into action. Words that are simple, potent and powerful. This contrasts with the words that I use in my academic life, which are often complicated, convoluted and impotent. When I use words in training and racing their effect is immediately evident and gratifying, but when I lecture or publish even though I hope that my words have an impact, I may never see the impact that they have.

When and how words are delivered also has a huge impact on their potency. Even though Coach Geoff can tend to give me too much information at times (sorry Geoff, sometimes it’s overload for a rank amateur like me), the timing and use of words is brilliant at motivating me. Everything from a simple photocopied certificate posted to my home address that read ‘Congratulations on completing the first 20 weeks of training’. To a text that I received last night from Geoff, after I had informed him of the details of my latest training session, that read:

Jeez ur getting really fit. U are humming along nicely which is exactly what I worked out for ur training schedule. Get excited for the 15th because Richard Mitchell is fit and fast and ready to race.

Those words make all the pain and effort worth it and I will remember them on race day. When the going gets tough they will mean so much to me.

Mother Nature

It’s amazing how Mother Nature can change our perceptions of a place.


I’ve been in Hawea (near Wanaka) since the Monday before Christmas. I have set up an office in the lounge of my in-law’s holiday house so that I can work and I have been utilising the Wanaka community pool for swim training, hitting the Challenge course for riding and circulating around a 7km block in Hawea for my runs.

It’s been a big week with four rides totalling 376km, the biggest being 191.7km in just over 7 hours over the Challenge course (plus a little bit more). I did more than 21 hours of training between Tuesday and Sunday last week (including one rest day). Even in normal conditions this would have been a tough week, but there have been persistent strong northerly winds for most of the week (certainly every ride), making it the most unpleasant of training weeks yet.

I have felt pretty strong, albeit fatigued, all week but the wind is totally demoralising. Tail winds are fantastic! Yesterday, on the long ride, I was easily (and I do mean easily) maintaining 40-50km/hour downwind between Luggate and Cromwell. BUT, when I crossed the bridge over Lake Dunstan and turned into the wind, it was like someone had attached a huge parachute to my seat post and my speed more than halved.

I guess it is partly because it is so easy down wind, but is also definitely just the sheer veracity of the wind. My aero position simply becomes like massive scoop sucking in air that pushes against my body acting as an air brake. My cadence steadily slows and I have to chop down gear after gear and within five minutes I am pedalling furiously in a very low gear, going nowhere fast.

However, whether riding or running, it’s not just the physical impact on my effort. It saps my mental energy. The constant, deafening roar bombarding my eardrums makes it nigh on impossible to concentrate. The howling in the power lines emanates a sense of foreboding like a scene from a disaster movie. The browned-off grass in the dry summer landscape forms constant waves on the roadside that look like the powerful current of a fast flowing river and I feel like I have to battle against it. The normally placid lakes become angry with white-caps that smash the unsuspecting shores. This beautiful landscape somehow becomes hostile and inhospitable.

Despite all of this, I know that I run strong in the wind (my half marathon PB in October was run in one of these nasty winds) and my legs remained relatively fresh throughout my 190+ km ride the other day. I am feeling confident that, if/when the wind arrives I am ready to defeat it. I have trained in every type of weather this year: torrential rain, 32 degree heat, snow, frost and, more often than not, strong winds. I am ready for whatever Mother Nature chooses to throw at us on race day.

A wierd place

Over the last few weeks, training has become a bit strange. It’s not that I am unmotivated; I have no problem getting out there and doing the work that Coach Geoff has set down in my program. But, sometimes, when I get out there I seem to be in a strange state of mind.


It’s really hard to describe. Sometimes, I feel a little lonely – as if I am going through this journey all alone, yet I know that many people have been along for the ride. Sometimes, I wonder what the hell I am doing – how dare I think that I am capable of this feat, yet I know I have put in the hard yards. Other times, I just want to get on with it – surely these last few weeks of training can’t really make that much difference?

While I know I am not just going through the motions when I train, sometimes I feel like I am, because I am so conditioned to do what is set out for me that I just get out there and do it. As a result I kind of feel that I am not putting in enough of an effort, even though the times I am doing and the way that my body feels I know that I am.

Does that make sense?

It’s kind of a wierd place to be and I wonder if I am the only one that goes through this in the lead up to an ironman or if this is what I am supposed to be feeling? I certainly haven’t experienced this before any other race that I have done.

Awesome day's training

I had a great race effort training session today. I did 3x 10 minute race effort swims in the harbour and got straight on the bike. For some reason my legs felt great after having been flat all week and I headed out at around 34-35km/h for a 90km ride. In the end I managed 33.1km/h and completed the 90km 10 minutes faster than the South Island Half Ironman (2:44:45 for 90.8km) and got off felling pretty fresh.

Then it was off on a 60 minute run at Ironman effort. My legs were feeling pretty fresh and I was able to easily maintain a steady 5:12-5:18 minutes per km (about 3:40 marathon pace). I know that I won't be able to mainatin that on race day, but it was a strong, relaxed effort. If I had done this at Ashburton, I would have been well under 5:40 for the race.

Yes, of course, this was all faster than race day pace, but I felt that the effort was about right to simulate race day. I hope I got it right!

Once again, Coach Geoff's training schedule seems to be coming through for me and I am starting to hit my straps (hopefully) just at the right time.

Jacqueline in the news

Just in case you aren't sure who Jacqueline Wyatt is and how brace she is, have a look at this article from Campbell Live:

http://www.3news.co.nz/More-Christmas-magic-for-another-family/tabid/367/articleID/191038/Default.aspx

Radio Sport Interview December Update

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Thanks to Gracie Prodcutions for permission to post this interview that aired on Sport Lately (Radio Sport) 14 December 2010.

Time to show we care

As I have already noted in this blog (see Giving Back), on 18 November 2010, 12 year old Blenheim girl, Jaqueline Wyatt, had her pelvis crushed by a large truck while she was riding her bike to school. She was fighting for her life for several days and now she is on the long, slow, painful road to recovery.

I have a huge amount of empathy for Jacqueline and her family so I have set up a page for you to sponsor me on  race day. All of the money will go directly to the Jacqueline Wyatt Recovery Appeal Trust (which is headed by Jacqueline's School principal).

You can choose to donate an amount regardless of my result or I have a couple of options where you can incentivise me to go as far as possible in the race (a per kilometre sponsorship) or finish fast (sponsorship per minute faster than my (secret) target of 14 hours).

If you want to help, please go to the page that I have set up and complete the short sponsorship form or email me directly and I will tell you how you can desposit money into the Trust's account: richard.mitchell@xtra.co.nz.

In the press

I was recently interviewed by the D-Scene newspaper and they have syndicated it to their other papers. Despite some inaccuracies (i.e. the name of the race and the fact that I haven't yet spoken directly with the family), this hopefully the start of my efforts to give something back.

http://www.stuff.co.nz/marlborough-express/news/4439748/Recovery-tale-offers-hope#share

Sure beats Disneyland

My recent blogs may have painted a-less-than-rosey picture of my training over the last few weeks, but my time in Central Otago training on the Challenge Wanaka course was nothing short of mind-blowing. I have visited Wanaka several times a year for most of the past 25 years, but never have I experienced it like I did the weekend before last.

For some reason, while training all of my senses were heightened and every experience, especially the visual, filled me with awe. Perhaps it is because my view of the world was sepia-toned, filtered, as it is, through sunglasses and goggles: intensifying some colours and dulling others, magnifying contrasts and creating a painted world that would not look out of place hanging on the walls of some of the best art galleries in the world. Perhaps I am just 'in the zone'. Who knows and who cares? I just love that it has opened my eyes to a magnifcent place that I had begun to take for granted.

Here are some of the highlights (in no particular order):

I lie floating, weightless, in the early morning glow; soaring above diminutive sand dunes that sweep off into the distance in an endless desert. Ripples of light dance like a serpent across the surface of this vast, breathtaking wasteland. A glance to the left reveals golden shafts of light beaming down from the heavens. I pause and soak in the energy and then, in an instant, as my arm penetrates the surface of the lake, the peace and tranquility is broken and I begin my morning swim: energised and contented. 

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A shimmering bay reveals itself below me as I cross the Lake Hawea dam. An iridescent, paua-shell blue, green and silver shimmers in the bright, bright light of the morning. The perfectly flat water somehow seems to be leaping off the surface of the earth; an abstract three-dimensional hologram - deep, sharp and crisp.

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Late in the evening in the half hour before sundown, clouds are floating along the ridges of the southern alps. To the west, the divine 'light of God' pierces the clouds like daggers. A real world reflection of the fearful depiction of the wilderness of a romantic landscape painting: imposing, scary and awe-inspiring. To the east, the light has an altogether different effect.  Pure, soft, cotton top clouds billow up from a menacing saw-toothed ridge, appearing to be illuminated by a brilliantly white light from the inside: inviting, comforting and cuddly.  

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Not only have the romantic painters been at work in this landscape, but the impressionists have applied their palette to this beautiful springtime scene. Renoir could easily have painted on the  canvas of Glendhu Bay. Tiny ripples on the water disturb the mirrored image projected on to the bay and it is instantly transformed into a brilliant impressionist painting. Tiny brush strokes fade into each other, brilliant technicolour becomes muted water-colour. What was real now becomes imaginary.

Masses of lupins punctuate the roadside as if put there by Monet himself: every shade and hue of purple, pale and delicate through deep and moody. A brilliant contrast of colour against the harsh, inhospitable, sunburnt countryside.

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In the last hazy light of the day, a truly idyllic world. An emerald sea of grass. A surging golden tide of rape seed. A silhouetted cardboard cut-out scene: tractor and plough. A spray of dust wafting from the wave of earth churned up by a plough. A delicate agricultural sea-mist hanging in the still, cool air of dusk.

This is a truly special part of the world. The tag of most scenic iron distance race in the world is fully justified and, as a holidaymaker yelled to me from an inner tube as she floated down the Clutha River on the blisteringly hot day that I attempted to do a 3 hour run, "This beats Disneyland any day!"

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A bit of a haematoma

Unfortunately, I picked up a bit of an injury over the weekend that has interrupted training. I have strained a muscle in my right shin which is causing quite a bit of a haematoma (bruise) in my lower leg. It's quite painful when I run and, even though I managed an hour long run on it on Saturday, I had to miss yesterday's long run. This is the second time I have had this type of injury - the first being when I was training for the Southland marathon last year - but this time it seems to be less severe.

Thankfully today is a rest day and I don't have another run scheduled until Wednesday. I'm hoping it will be okay on the bike tomorrow evening and it should be fine in the harbour (at 7am tomorrow).

Plenty of rest, a compression stocking and regular icing seems to have accelerated the healing process and it is starting to loosen up already. When the gall bladder infection settled down in August 2001, though, the haematoma I had then was a little more serious and in need of a bit more attention than a bit of rest and some ice.

31 August 2001, Austin Hospital

My condition has stabilised now and I haven't had any gall bladder attacks or fevers for about 36 hours. The nurse was in about half an hour ago to tell me that they would be transporting me back to Bethesda Hospital later today, but that they first wanted to change my dressings.

Changing my dressing is still pretty painful (see A bit sore) but I have become used to dealing with it. The major problem at the moment is that the swelling around my abdomen has become so bad that the cross bars on my external fixators have begun to rub on the wounds where the fixators enter my body. As a result I have developed a couple of really nasty ulcers around the base of my fixators that are now also requiring some attention. When I am rolled on to my side these new wounds are enlarged ever so slightly as the weakened skin and flesh tears a little. So, by now the wound around the right fixator is about the size of my thumb and very ulcerated (just like a mouth ulcer).

The swelling is now also making it extremely difficult to roll me to redress my gravel rash wounds on my torso and it takes several people to undertake the whole operation: two or three to roll and hold me and one to dress the wounds.

The team have just come in and they roll me to the right to reveal the wounds on my left. They are dressing the wound as normal and finish without a hitch. I'm back on my back now and I'm pumping the morphine button (PCA) to make sure that I am ready for the wound on my right which is much bigger and sensitive than the one on my left.

"Okay, ready?" says the nurse. "As ready as I'm going to be," I reply. I'm being rolled slowly and carefully on to my side. "STOP!", I shout, "I can feel a tearing by my fixator!" They stop and check out my fixator wound and it turns out that there is a small tear in my wound. It's not really painful and it's not bleeding, but there is a small amount of clear fluid seeping from the wound. "I think we can carry on with the dressings now," says the nurse as she mops up the fluid.

The rest of the dressing process goes without a hitch and they turn their attention to the new/expanded  wound around my fixator. It's 'oozing' (as they describe it) quite a lot of fluid so they pack it with gauze to soak it up.

An hour passes and they come back to check it. As they remove the bandages covering the gauze, the full extent of the oozing was revealed. It has soaked right through the gauze and is beginning to pool in the plastic undersheet lining the bed. A quick discussion and the charge nurse decides that the underblacket and plastic sheet will have to be replaced even though I am being relocated later today. So, here we go again, more rolling and more pain...

This is going to be quite complicated as they are going to actually lift me off the bed and the swelling hangs off my backside whenever that happens. It's bloody excruciating and, without the crane that Bethesda has, I am not sure how they are going to manage it.

Step one: they roll me one way and bunch up the blanket and plastic sheet as far as they can. Step two: they roll me the other way and bunch the rest up. Step three: lift and remove. Problem: It's impossible to lift me. "One last try," says the charge nurse, "it has to come out." "One, Two, Three, Lift!" They all lift and the charge nurse pulls as hard as he can. "Ahhhh! You ripped me!", I yell. All at once they replace the plastic sheet and return me to my back.

Now there is a real problem. The ooze is coming out really quickly. The gauze is becoming sodden as soon as they pack my wound. They keep repacking it and eventually it slows a little. Any time I move I can feel it running down the inside of my thigh, but there isn't much pain so I ignore it.

A couple of hours have passed and I am in the back of an ambulance being transferred back to Bethesda. The ooze is pretty disgusting by now and I am soaking wet. The ambulance arrives at Bethesda and I am wheeled back into the rehab ward. It feels great to be back. I've only spent a couple of days here, but it feels much more welcoming than the Austin, perhaps because I know it's going to be home for a while.

The ambulance drivers hand me over to the nursing staff and explain about the ooze. A nurse takes a look. "Oh, my God!", she says. I am sure that can't be a good thing. A few minutes later Mary-Lou, the registrar, appears and looks at the wound. There is an instant look of shock on her face as she realises what is happening. "Righ,t let's get this sorted", she exclaims. "I can't believe they sent you back like this. How long has this been like this?", she asks. I explain what had happened.

"You have a massive haematoma in your torso and now it has direct access to the outside. We are going to have to milk it. Are you okay with that?" Mary-Lou explains. Of course, I agree but I ask for a quick explanation of what they are going to do. In essence, she explained that it would be like squeezing a massive pimple.

The process begins and litre after litre or haemoserous fluid is milked from my body. It is caught in a funnel held against my hip and placed in a bucket. After about an hour of milking, 9.5 litres of fluid is collected in the bucket and the oozing has largely subsided. The swelling that has plagued me since my accident is now gone and bags of limp skin hangs from my side. What a relief.

Post script: This event turned out to be a turning point in my recovery. Now I was unburdened by the swelling that had caused so much pain. It was also the source of my infection as this massive abdominal haematoma caused by a closed internal de-gloving injury had been communicating through my wounds with the outside world.

That night I underwent surgery to clean the ulcerated wounds around my fixators, insert six suction drains that would continue to drain the haemoserous (the clear fluid that you get on wounds that helps the healing process) from my torso and to do a thorough cleaning of my gravel rash wounds.

The whole process gave me a new starting point. A new lease of life. A renewed determination to get through this. Tomorrow is a new beginning.

Take away the pain

In a previous post on motivation (motivation part 3 - pain) I talked about how pain can be a good thing. How the pain of training actually feels good to me. Well this weekend, I had a power of good pain.

Sunday's 6 hour/175.8km ride redefined some of the pain that I have had in training. While my legs and groin were nothing beyond the normal long ride aches and pains (and a the odd bit of numbness), the pain that I experienced in my feet and neck were a distraction that I could not ignore.

Nearing half way on the ride my right foot began to smoulder. Just a whiff at first and nothing that a good scrunching of the toes couldn't fix, but by the time I reached the four and half hour mark both feet felt like flames were emanating from their soles. I had no choice but to dowse them with water and the momentary respite was pure bliss. However, the embers continued to glow and by the time I got 15 minutes down the road the flames had me in agony once again. I was able to stand it for another 15 minutes until I had to take both shoes off to stamp out the flame. I kid you not, the heat was so intense it felt like my feet were literally on fire! Thank goodness taking my shoes off helped otherwise I doubt that I could have gone much further nor could I have got off and run a marathon. (Apparently this is a relatively common problem related to the positioning of my cleats, the inner-soles and the type of shoe that I have. So hopefully I can sort this next week).

The other problem was an aching neck from being in aero position for such an extended period. It got so bad that from about 120km on, I begged for any hill at all so that I had an excuse to sit up and pedal. I never ever thought I would experience such a rush when I saw a 2 km climb coming up ahead. I literally screamed 'WOOHOO', when I saw it looming in front of me. Thank goodness that the Challenge course is so hilly; I don't think that I could handle a flat course for six hours.

Despite this, once again, this is good pain and I am glad that I endured it and I am a stronger person because of it. The pain that I went through on the night of 28 August 2001 (see help needed) and through 29 August 2001 was debilitating and disheartening, especially given I had thought that I was through the worst of it following my accident (see when the journey really began, the journey continues and a bit sore).

Early afternoon, 29 August 2001

I am staring at a tall, broad-shouldered surgeon at the end of the bed who is trying to figure out how he is going to use the endoscope to remove my gall bladder later today. You see, it turns out that last night's pain was acute acalculous cholecystitis (AAC) or a massively inflamed gall bladder and it has got to come out. "The problem is I usually rest the scope on your pelvis and you have all this bloody scaffolding in the road," says the surgeon in a very concerned voice. He bends down to get a better look at the angles and rotates his hands over my pelvis to mime the actions that he would have to perform. "Nah, there's no way we can get in through there." He pauses. "We'd normally go in through the belly button, where you've already got that scar, with the scope and make a couple of small cuts up here [pointing to just below my sternum]. But, there's just no way that is going to happen. The other option is to make a 30 centimetre incision from here to here [drawing a long arc on his torso that follows the bottom of his rib line]."

Oh my god! They are going to have to cut me open. Surely that is going to be dangerous in my state!?! Is this really necessary, surely no one died from a swollen gall bladder? Those I.V antibiotics must be pretty powerful, surely they'll work?

The surgeon interrupts my tarin of thought, clearly seeing that I am experiencing a considerable amount of agnst. "I think we are just going to have to wait and see what happens. It will have to come out, but there is just no way that we can do anything about it right now."

"What about the pain?", I ask. "That should subside, but if it doesn't we will have to do something about it", replies the gentle and caring giant of a surgeon. "Lets just wait and see. You have enough on your plate right now, without having to deal with more surgery. Once you are stronger and these fixitors are removed we can have another look."

I am not sure that I can really comprehend what this means. Is it life threatening? Is the pain going to return? Am I going to be able to eat (I haven't been able to eat since I vomitted up last night's dinner)? I don't think I can really deal with any more pain. My wounds are bad enough and that pain through the night and into this morning was absolutely out of this world. Please, make it go away...

Post script: It turns out that AAC is actually very dangerous! According to the Merck medical manual:

Acalculous cholecystitis typically causes sudden, excruciating pain in the upper abdomen in people with no previous symptoms or other evidence of a gallbladder disorder. The inflammation is often very severe and can lead to gangrene or rupture of the gallbladder. In people with other severe problems (including people in the intensive care unit for another reason), acalculous cholecystitis may be overlooked at first. The only symptoms may be a swollen (distended), tender abdomen or a fever with no known cause. If untreated, acalculous cholecystitis results in death for 65% of people.

It is a rare form of gall bladder infection that can be caused by (amongst other things) other surgery, massive whole body infection (sepsis) - which I was now being treated for - or blunt trauma.

The pain has been described by many as the third most painful affliction known - behind child birth and passing a kidney stone.

Just over a week ago my Mum had her fifth or sixth gall bladder attack (from gall stones, which is less dangerous, but equally as painful) and the next time she has to go to the emergency room they will remove the stones. I don't know how she has put up with so many attacks. Once was enough for me, but in the end I had two further attacks. The second was while I was still in hospital and still with the fixitors in and the surgeon once again said that they would have to wait. The third was some months after my accident, once I had been released from hospital.

I was walking along the street with Carleen and we were about 10 minutes' away from home, when out of the blue the pain struck. It struck so hard that I partially collapsed and had to save my fall on a wall. I tried to walk, but the pain intensified and I could go no further. Thank goodness for the doctor that was passing on her way home from her shift at a local hospital. She spotted me and knew instantly that I was in trouble. She got out of her car and rushed over to us (probably thinking I was having a heart attack). I explained what it was and she helped us to her car and drove as fast as she could (which wasn't that fast because it was rush hour) to the nearest emergency room. Once there she handed me over to the ER staff and they administered morphine, but they couldn't remove it then and there as they wanted me to go back to the hospital that treated the orginal injury.

In the end I was referred to a private surgeon who said the best way forward was to claim on my medical insurance as this would be the quickest route to surgery. He was right and the next week, my gall bladder was removed and AAC confirmed.

I have no lasting effects, except I can't eat very fatty foods or drink a lot of beer (not a bad thing really).

Giving back

Over the last few weeks several things have made me think back to the time of my accident. Not least of these has been the fact that there have been a spate of fatal and near fatal collisions between vehicles and cyclists. the result has been several 5 fatalities and several hospitalisations. How many more have to be killed or mamed before something is done to protect cyclists?!

Probably the accident that has been closest to the bone for me was the accident that almost claimed the life 12 year old Blenheim girl Jacqueline Wyatt (see Campbell live story at http://www.3news.co.nz/Teen-cyclist-recalls-collision-with-truck/tabid/367/articleID/188518/Default.aspx).  Her accident bears an uncanny resemblence to mine and, like me, she is battling with a smashed pelvis and multiple other injuries. Her story moved me to tears and really cut Carleen up as she recalled the hard times that we went through during my long and painful recovery and neither of us could bear the thought poor Jackie and her family having to go through all that we had been through.

I want to help Jackie and the Wyatts through this ordeal in whatever way I can and I have started the wheels in motion to try and get in touch with them and some people raising money to help them out. I am not quite sure what I can do to help, but I have some ideas so watch this space.

A little milestone - thanks to you

This month my blog will exceed 1000 page views for the month. Wow!

When I started out I hoped that I might get a few people to read it, so 1000 page views in a month is amazing. Thanks for reading and I hope you have enjoyed it and will continue to do so.

BTW: I'm pretty sure it's not Mum reading everything dozen's of times, I don't think she knows how to navigate her way around the blog that well. :-)

Big weekend

Just a very quick one before heading to bed for some well earned rest - lots more blog material to come.

Yesterday, I did a 7 hour training day, including all but a few ks of the bike course (175.8km) in
6 hours 18 minutes (including 3 stops to fill up my water bottles). Wow! Its a bloody long way, but I made it. I also tried to run at least 1 lap of the run course, but in 31+ degree heat, I had to walk most of it and was completely overwhelmed by the temperature.

Today was a record November high for Wanaka, so now I have trained in snow, frost, hail, rain, gale force winds and record high temperatures.

Post-Race Blues - AGAIN

Really flat today. I had run session at lunchtime that just felt crap. My knees and hips were stiff and I just didn't feel like going hard, even though I had intervals to do (5 x 3 min @ 3-5km pace). I was able to do three at the pace, but had to back off a little for the last two. Overall, I guess it wasn't a bad session, I just didn't feel so good doing it.

This evening I went for swim in the harbour with Geoff, James and Alice (a fellow Challengee and pretty good swimmer) and I just couldn't be arsed. I did everything that the others did, but I was a long way behind and I stopped on too many occasions to be that effective.

I guess (as Alice pointed out), that's what you get from five and half hours of racing. It also doesn't help that I have a little health problem (starts with 'h' and ends with 'roid' and very large - OUCH!) that has been causing me a lot of pain since the race. It was extremely bad overnight and this morning and I was able to do little else but lie on the sofa until about 11am. A visit to the doctor this afternoon for a remedy seems to have relieved the pain for the moment. When the doctor is doing the examination and he says "OH! Shit, that will be painful", you know that it's a goodun'.

Nirvana

It's crazy to think that just 10 months ago I was contemplating spending the year training for the Lake Wanaka Half Ironman as my ultimate goal for the next 12 months to see if I might be capable of pulling off a full iron-distance triathlon and here I am in November sitting at the computer having completed my first half ironman and itching to do Challenge Wanaka in a little over 50 days. What is even more amazing is that a little over 48 hours after the completing the South Island Half IronmanI have little more than a few areas of chaffing and a bit of tenderness in my left calf: I feel fantastic!

Unlike any other race I have done, the weekend was the complete package: travelling up with Coach Geoff discussing tactics, racing and the meaning of life; preparing our gear for the race (sometimes in our own wee world and other times sharing our thoughts); sussing out the course the day before; catching up with other triathlon mates/acquaintances at the mote; bettering my own expectations on race day; and then, pigging out at Macca's without feeling the slightest bit guilty (Geoff and I worked out we would have to have eaten at least 10 Big Macs to replace the energy we had burned during the race).

The race itself was an amazing experience, full of emotion, excitement and physical challenges. There is obviously too much to discuss here, but there were some moments in the five and half hours that will be etched in my memory forever. So, rather than give a blow by blow description, I have selected the most poignant and emotional moment. In my mind, I had imagined that I would be most moved by crossing the finish line. I was emotional as I crossed the line and could only manage 'Half way there - bring on Challenge Wanaka!' over the PA when the race director asked me how I felt (any more and the emotion would have boiled over). However, nothing at all could have prepared me for what I experienced at the start line:

Approximately 8:20am - Race Briefing, Lake Hood, South Island Half Ironman.

The race director has been giving instructions for the last 7 or 8 minutes and, to be honest, I haven't taken much of it in. I know that the swim course is completely different to what Geoff and I had thought when we came down to the lake yesterday, but the rest has not registered at all. I have spent most of the last 10 minutes in 'the zone' looking at people but not really registering who they are, hearing the briefing but not really listening and knowing that it is cold and breezy but I can't feel anything. My attention is grabbed momentarily as I spot Rachel Harris, who has provided the most amazing virtual support through myblog, and I briefly contemplate going to introduce myself, but in an instant I decide that this would only be a distraction that I cannot afford.

Suddenly a sea of black wetsuits and multi-coloured swim caps begins to slowly pour down the bank towards the lake and my fellow competitors begin to enter the water. I find myself drifting along peacefully in the tide until my feet become immersed in the warm and comforting waters of Lake Hood. I pause... Then, dive head-long into the dark, yet inviting water.

Time stands still and I am overcome by an amazing and utterly awe-inspiring sense of calm. The water ripples across my cheeks and I am surrounded by bubbles that seem to glisten like stars. Still submersed, I pull one breast stroke and glide effortlessly amongst the shiny tan weed. The moment seems like an eternity and I don't want it to stop.

This moment is the start of a new beginning and the end result of a lot of hard work. My journey is just beginning, but I have arrived. I feel immensely powerful and incredibly vulnerable all at once. I am ready for, yet apprehensive of, what lies ahead. I am fearful, but not afraid. I should be nervous, but I am at peace. This is nirvana. Whatever lies ahead, all the training, all the sacrifice, all the pain has been worth it for this moment.

I am blown away by the power of what could have been no more than 5 or 10 seconds of bliss. Come 15 January 2011, I will use this to focus my mind and give me strength.

Half way there

Just a quick note to say that I knocked off the South Island Half Ironman yesterday in a time that surprised even me. I was hoping for anything under 6 hours and I managed 5:34:48. I am absolutely stoked!

The swim was easier than I thought, albeit a little slower than I think I was capable of. The bike I averaged 31.6km/hour over the 90km and I ran my seventh fastest half marathon (of the 17 that I have done since 2008). I even managed to be almost half an hour faster than our team effort at the Lake Wanaka Half earlier this year and was faster on all legs except the swim.

Full race report to follow tomorrow... it was an amazing experience full of heaps of emotion so it should be an interesting post.

By the way: The body is feeling amazingly good today. I just hate to think what it might be like tomorrow when the DOMS (Delayed Onset Muscle Soreness) sets in. I hope that this isn't the calm before the storm.

All packed and ready to go

Just finished packing for the road trip to Ashburton tomorrow. Geoff and I are leaving Dunnos at 7:30am and heading out on the highway to the might metropolis of "Ash Vegas". The plan is to be there early afternoon to suss out the course, have a bit of a splash in the lake and practice tranistions.

Geoff is competing too, but currently has a popped rib and hasn't been able to run for 8 days or so. He may have to walk some or all of the run, so there is a slim (and I mean paper thin) chance I'll be able to catch him  on the run. He'll smoke me on the swim and bike, so he will have to be down to a crawl.

The forecast for race day is for rain and a southerly change, so that might make things a little interesting. The rainfall maps are only showing light rain, winds up to 10km/h so that shouldn't be too bad (fingers crossed) and the temperature is supposed to be a mild 18 degrees . I can handle the rain and I don't mind the wind on the run, but I hate the wind on the bike. Oh well, I can't control the weather so I will just have to take what comes.

My race plan is to concentrate hard on technique on all legs (including transitions). I'm going to keep it simple so that I can stay focussed.  My time will be what it will be and I am sure that I have done enough work to finish strongly (for a 40 year old over-weight guy who was run over by a truck - whatever that might mean). It is very clear in my mind that this is not the end goal, just a step on the way. Sure, I will have my race face on and, sure, I will try my hardest, but I will be making sure that I pace myself for a strong finish rather than going nuts and then fading at the end.

Ash Vegas, here we come!

Are you out there?

Just thought I'd try a little experiment.

I am able to track how many page views I receive (between 550 and 700 per month). I also know that about 80 percent of the page views come from New Zealand and 20 percent from overseas and a large proportion come from people who link from the Challenge Wanaka home page. However, I have no idea how many people are actually reading my blog. I have 6 official "followers" and 10 people receive an email of each posting, plus I know of about 6-10 other people who read it (including my Mum - Hi Mum), but beyond that I have no idea where the other 500 plus page views come from (is it 50 people reading 10 pages or 500 people reading just one?).

I am really keen to know more about who my audience is. So, if you read this, I'd love for you to leave me a brief comment in the comments box below - even just a "Hi" would be great.

PS I am going to be getting back to the story of my accident over the coming weeks. I am now on sabbatical until April and I will have a more flexible timetable and will be in writing mode for work. Once I get into the groove with writing (academic or otherwise), the words will just flow. So I hope you are prepared for a lot more posts over the next 9 or 10 weeks.

Running off the nerves

My lunchtime ride today was crap. I couldn't concentrate, my mind wandered and 18km/hour felt like hard work while 35km/hr was a breeze. The nervous energy was making my mind play games with me.

Throughout the day I have received all sorts of emails from people who've read my blog and its been great. (Keep'em coming folks, I'd love to hear from you even if I don't know you - it's a huge buzz to get feedback from people.) There has been lots of really sage advice and lots of reassurance. I also had a rub from Coach "Magic Hands*" Geoff (on a niggly hamstring) this afternoon and we chatted about the race and how to approach this evening's run session.

I had a nice short set of 3 x 3 minute efforts at threshold with 3 minute rest intervals so it was a matter of warming up, concentrating for 15 minutes or so and warming down. I decided to approach the reps by concentrating on one thing - HIPS FORWARD! I started each rep well, concentrating hard on getting my hips forward while maintaining leg speed. However, in each set I also lost concentration after a minute or so as a vision of this weekend's race would pop into my head (the last kilometre of the race, starting on the run after transition, the finish line, etc). It would take me 20 seconds or so to get back on track, but I managed to get back to thinking 'hips forward' and the pace would pick up again. When I looked at my Garmin graph of each effort when I got home, you could see where I lost concetration as I slowed significantly. In the end I manage the first two reps at 4:24/kilometre pace and the third at 4:09 pace. That has well and truly settled the nerves - for now at least.

Six months ago, if you had told me I'd be running at 4:24 pace at all I would have laughed at you, let alone 4:09 and for 3 minutes. Secretly, I now can't wait to break the 4 minute mark for a threshold run like that. I now believe that it is possible. Hell, I can do better than that, I know it will happen and soon! Bring it on!

Thanks to everyone for all of the advice today and thanks again to Coach Geoff for a training program that seems to hit all of the right notes at just the right time.

* "Magic hands" - I think Alison Shanks is the one that called him that, but it is true. He works miracles with those hands.

Nerves and excitement

Only three days until my first half ironman and the nervous energy is really starting to build. Actually, it's not built as such, but gone from 0 to 100 in no time flat. I find myself concerned about the unknown - what is transition like? how long is the run out of the water to transition? what is the weather going to be like? what is the water temperature? As such, I have been searching for as much information as possible to try and calm the nerves, but I am not having much luck finding things out. It's driving me nuts!

Yesterday I was fine, but today I'm really on edge. I am not nervous about my own ability to pull this off: I have done the work and I have trained hard. Geoff has put me through my paces and I have done (almost) everything that he has asked of me. This really is just another step on the road to Challenge Wanaka, but I don't like going into a race not knowing what to expect.

I hope today's training will help me get rid of some of this nervous energy. I don't think I can last three days at this level of heightened excitement!

The Three Musketeers

Geoff, James and I met at 8:30am this morning for a swim in the harbour at Vauxhall. Well, that was the plan anyway, but by the time we were ready the waves were about half a metre high and messy as hell. So, I suggested we drive down to Macandrew Bay to see if it was flatter there.

Geoff jumped in the front seat of my car fully kitted up for the swim (two swim caps, a neoprene cap, wetsuit and wetsuit booties). James, in his wetsuit, squeezed himself into the back seat like a slightly over-stuffed stuffed toy - arms unable able to move to his side and knees barely able to bend. Off we went - the three musketeers.

At Macandrew Bay we stood in front of the car contemplating "will we, won't we", "it's still pretty high", "yeah, nah...maybe", "if we stay close to the shore, but what about out there". We must have looked pathetic standing there all dress up and nowhere to go (swimming).

In the end we headed back to Vauxhall more than a little disappointed and ready to swim this afternoon instead, until Geoff suggested that we try the other side of the harbour near Watercooled Sports. It was perfect there when we got there, but there are no buoys or poles in the water as markers for us to mark our swims. The answer: walk around the shore (along the busy Portsmouth Drive) and mark it using the Garmin GPS I have borrowed (mine is broken and off for replacement).

What a sight! All in wetsuits, two in slippers, one in running shoes walking along the water's edge glancing at the GPS and then looking around for land marks to spot from the water. Katie Menzies (the coach that helped me get started with my training), passed us on her bike and she yelled out something about how mad she thought we were getting in the water on a day like today.

Then back into the water we went with the usual hesitation and whoops of discomfort as the cold water seeps into the back of the wetsuit through the zip. The water has actually warmed up heaps as we have had a week of 25+ degree temperatures. We rattled off 2 x 400 metre warm up, 8 x 100 metre swim to run transitions and 4 x 400 metre continuous sets.

All in all a bloody awesome swim by the three musketeers!

Woohooooo two!

Geoff and I have been doing some 2km swim time trials every Friday for the past fortnight. The trial consists of 400m freestyle, 100m pull buoy, 300m freestyle, 200m pull buoy, 200m free, 300m pull buoy, 100m free, 400 pull buoy. We time the splits (although last Friday's didn't work out so well because of some watch issues) and the full set.

The first week (29 October) I took a just on 43minutes to complete the full set and I took 8:40 to do the first 400m (freestyle) and 8:20 to do the last (with pull buoy). Today I smashed this time by doing 40:49, including 7:56 for the first 400m (my first ever 400 under 8 minutes) and the last at 7:36.

Interestingly most people are slower with the pull buoy as you have no kick, but I am significantly faster. This obviously says something about how much my kick is adversely impacting on my speed. The good news is that everyone (including me) swims faster in a wet suit and all my open water swims in NZ will be in a wet suit.

Based on the time that I posted today and things like I won't be doing my clumsy turns every 25m or resting six times and I will be wearing my wetsuit, I reckon I should be able to complete the swim at the South Island Half Ironman next Saturday in somewhere close to 35 or 36 minutes. I'll be absolutely stoked with that, but I'll take anything under 40 minutes.

I also did 30 x 100m freestyle earlier in the week and didn't tire at all until the 26th rep. Previously I have been tiring after about 1.8-2km, so the swim fitness is also on the improve. Overall, then, my swimming is on the improve and things are starting look good. Still heaps of room for improvement, but at least I am heading in the right direction.

Woohooooo!

It's official. I am now under 100kg for the first time in about 12 or 13 years. I know I was 99kg on Sunday after a 2:30 run, but this morning I was just under 100kg when I got up.

I've now lost just over 35kg (26% of my original body weight).

Next target: under 90kg by race day. That's about 1kg per week and anything below 91 kg will be the lightest that I have been since I was about 16 years old.

Some more milestones

In the last month I have passed a few more milestones.

Since I began my programmed training I have now completed the following:

Swim: 172km (in 86 hours) - milestone 150km
Bike: 4,293km (in 156 hours) - milestone 4,000km
Run: 985km (in 90 hours) - milestone of 1,000,km will be reached this week
Total: 5,450km (in 332 hours) - milestone 5,000km

I have also managed three weekends of racing in a row, including a sub1:45 half marathon and this week I have run 56.2km which is the most I have ever run in a week.

I went below 100kg in weight today for the first time in about 12 years. I was 99kg when I finished my run today (25.5km), but this is likely to be a temporary drop below 100kg as I was pretty dehydrated by the time I finished (loosing around 2.5-3kg in fluid). I'll take it though! Regardless, I have been under the 30 BMI 'obese' threshold for all of the last 3 weeks.

In the next few weeks I will undoubtedly set some more milestones:

My first half ironman (20 November)
My first 20+ hour training week
My first 300+km week

As Coach Geoff pointed out this afternoon as we bobbed around in the Otago Harbour (I reckon the water is about 11 or 12 degrees, so it's not bad... who am I kidding it's still bloody freezing, but it makes me feel really alive), I've come along way since my first few weeks when I said to him that there was no way that I could do 12 hours of training in a week.

What goes up, must come down

It was great having three races in three weekends (Hill Free 10km, River Run Trail Series Half Marathon and Cromwell Half Marathon), but by the time I had finished the third I was mentally (and physically) exhausted and for the last week or so I have found it incredibly hard to train. Regardless of how I approach a race - whether it is 'just another training session', a targeted pace or an attempt at a PB - I always invest a lot of mental and emotional energy into it and that has been incredibly draining.

As I think I have mentioned before, in the week leading up I begin to visualise the race, running through the course in my head and going over what I will be doing and how I will be feeling at various points in the race. In training I focus much more on the technique and on doing the little thinsg right. I know I am no pro, but its in my make up to do these things, especially now that I have the advice of Coach Geoff to guide me along. This all creates an enormous amount of energy that makes you feel so incredibly alive in the lead up, but the high is inevitably folllowed by a low that is hard to get out of. 

Three weeks of high meant that there has been a pretty deep low to follow. It's not that this low has made me feel depressed or that I haven't wanted to train, its just that when I have trained it has been difficult to concentrate and even if the body is willing the mind is struggling to propel me forward (although, for obvious reasons, the body has been a bit tired too).

I have found that the best way to overcome the low is to train with someone else wherever possible. A run the other night with little bro' Chris and a ride with Coach Geoff the next day were much better sessions than any other. Its the swimming that I am finding the hardest to get back up for. I can maintain some good sets or reps, but never for more than 20 minutes or so. I guess it is a combination of the completely solitary nature of swimming (in the pool you are literally totally immersed in world of your own) and the fact that it takes (me) an incredible amount of concentration in an attempt to get everything just right (however futile that attempt is).

There is a 20km off-road running race this weekend that Geoff is doing and that he suggested I consider, but I have decided that I don't want to have another period of peaks and troughs. I am going to focus on getting up for the South Island Half Ironman on the 20th. Bring it on!

By the way the tendonitis is on the mend. I no longer have pain when I walk or run and, once things warm up in the morning, I have more mobility in my foot. Thanks to Geoff's magic touch - he is the most amazing massage therapist in the world. It's amazing having a coach that is so good at motivating me, so technically savvy and who knows and understands how my body works and how to repair it when it is broken.

It's official...

I have just completed my race entry for Challenge Wanaka 2011... There's no turning back now!

What a weekend

All of a sudden I feel strong again!

Despite the ongoing tendonitis in my right ankle, things took a huge upward swing this weekend. I feel awesome (albeit a bit sore) after a simulation half ironman weekend. On Friday morning Geoff had me complete a 2km set in the pool after a 20 min/700m warm up. The 2km included only short rests (no more than 10sec) and took me 44 minutes.

On Saturday I did the bottom half of the Challenge bike course around Lake Dunstan. At just over 91km in 3:17 (plus a rest at 40km where I met Geoff), I was stoked with that time given that I wasn't exactly over doing it. There was a moderate southerly and the temperature was in the low 20s so the 40km from Luggate to Cromwell was a bit slow, but the 50km back was wind assisted and we were flying. I did draft behind Geoff for about 15km, but even when I was on my own I was able to get into a nice rhythm at about 34km/hour.

Then on Sunday, I entered the Cromwell Half Marathon (my 3rd time doing this event), even though I wasn't sure that my foot would last the distance. It was warm and there was a very strong northerly wind (as usual for this race). At the start line I set my strategy as a slower than usual start and remain steady. I also remember thinking that a PB wasn't on the cards so just go with the flow and at that point I resigned myself to the fact that I would be unlikely to ever break my magic figure of 1:45 for the half marathon.

How wrong I was! I smashed my previous year's Cromwell time by 6 minutes 50 seconds and my PB (set at Wanaka) by 4:06 and most importantly I broke 1:45 by almost 2:30 minutes. Even if you correct for the 350 metres or so that the course is short I was comfortably under 1:45 (approx 1:44:14 at my average pace). I averaged under 5 minutes per km (4:56) for the first time ever in a half and only the 3 kilometres into the howling wind and the second to last kilometre were significantly over 5 minute pace. I was placed 26th overall (up from 42nd last year and 95th the year before) and my time on this course has improved by more than 16 minutes in two years. I am absolutely stoked!

So my simulation times (albeit not all in one day and definitely not all in race conditions) are as follows:
2km swim 0:44
91km bike 3:17
20.75km run 1:43
Total 5:44

That all bodes well for the South Island Half Ironman in a few weeks and hopefully has me on track for Challenge Wanaka in January.

I also managed to christen my wet suit this morning (Labour Day) in Lake Hawea with a half hour play around (about 10 -15 minutes to get used to the freezing cold water plus 5 x 80-100m reps). Very refreshing on a beautifully clear and calm Hawea day. Absolutely out of this world!

New gear

I have just purchased a new wetsuit and a new bright red lycra trisuit. Neither of these are particularly flattering, given that they are made out of rubber and lycra and are incredibly fitting. So look out anyone that sees me at any races in the near future. My bulgey bits, lumps and bumps are going to be on display! Very sexy! NOT!

Worrying sign

Over the last few weeks I have been trying to manage a problem with my right foot. It's a repetitive stress injury to my peroneal tendon and I thought that I was getting on top of it. Geoff has been massaging it and I have iced it almost every day for the last week, but over the last 24 hours it has become more persistent.

I hope this isn't going to interfere with training. So far, its actually been fine most of the time that I have been training (as it warms up it tends to get less severe or even disappear altogether), so it was a worrying sign tonight when I couldn't really shake it while doing my run intervals. Any activity (even just standing) sets it off and it can be a very intense pain.

Time to up the frequency of ice treatments, etc and, fingers crossed, I can knock it on the head.

"Bonked" (almost)

Even though I have had to miss the odd session over the last fortnight with work commitments, it feels like I've had a pretty intensive period of training. I've also got a bit of a sleep deficit after the Commonwealth Games which had more than its fair share of post-midnight finishes and last night I didn't finish my work until 12:50am and then woke up at 5:50am and couldn't get back to sleep. Not to mention the fact that last weekend I had a 10km race and then on the Sunday just past I did my 4th fastest half marathon (1:50:43) on a tough off road course (Race 1 of the River Run Trail Series - an awesome race put on by the Challenge Wanaka crew).

As a result, tonight's ride was a complete disaster. The mind was willing (well actually it was tired from the lack of sleep) but (in the immortal words of Carol Beer of Little Britain) the "legs say Noooo". Another cold southerly blast had forced me indoors to the Moana Pool gym to use a spin bike and as soon as I started pedalling I knew that I wasn't going to make it to the 2 hour mark as per my schedule. I just had no energy, my glutes were sore and my current foot injury kept flaring up. So I cut my ride short by an hour and (rather than sit up late and do more work and get further behind on the sleep) I am heading straight to bed and will (hopefully) be sound asleep in no time flat.

I still plan to do the Cromwell Half Marathon this weekend, but have the 10k race as a back up plan if I am still feeling flat. I am pretty sure that I will be ok by Sunday if I get plenty of sleep this week and don't over do it in training, but I am not going to completely bonk just for the sake of a half marathon. Challenge is the ultimate goal and I want to get there in one piece, so I am taking Coach Geoff's advice to listen to my body and do what it says while still keeping as close as possible to the schedule. That means more sleep and dialling back a bit on the effort when I have an easy session like tonight.

Weeks 25-29 - Spring time(?!?!)

The last five weeks have been full of all sorts of weather surprises. I have trained in everything from glorious 21 degree days, to driving rain, heavy snow, 140km/h winds and even a short swim in the Otago Harbour (13 minutes was more than enough with the water just 10 or so degrees). I raced the Dunedin Half Marathon on gorgeous sunny, calm and warm early September day and today (one month deeper into spring) I ran in the Hill Free 10km in driving rain with temperatures barely above 5 degrees (snow falling on the hills surrounding the race).

There have also been a number of things that have distracted me from my training. Work has been busy and I have had a few days of meetings and short trips out of town that have made scheduling training difficult. The Commonwealth Games (especially the cycling) has also been a little bit of a distraction (but also a bit of inspiration).

Week 25 (6-12 September) - including the Dunedin Half Marathon (see All Hot and Bothered)

Swim: 4 session totalling 10.35km in 4 hours 59 minutes
Bike: 4 sessions totalling 165.1km in 6:28
Run: 4 sessions totalling 49.5km in 4:36
Total: 12 sessions totalling 225km in 16:03

Week 26 (13-19 September) - supposed to include the last of the Winter Duathlon series but cancelled because of snow.
Swim: 3 session totalling 7.3km in 3 hours 28 minutes
Bike: 4 session totalling 209.5km in 8:27 - including a 105.8km long ride on Saturday
Run: 3 sessions totalling 19.4km in 1:54
Total: 10 sessions totalling 236.2km in 13:49

Week 27 (20-27 September - 8 day week because did ride on Monday ) - including Sweat7/Challenge Wanaka Training Camp with Sam Warriner.
Swim: 4 session totalling 5.55 km in 3 hours 39 minutes - including a technique session on the camp.
Bike: 3 sessions totalling 188.1km in 7:20 - including two Challenge-course rides.
Run: 4 sessions totalling 54.8 km in 6:01- including a 24.4km run with Geoff on the day before the camp.
Total: 11 sessions totalling 249.55km in 16:55 (8 days straight without a rest day).

Week 28 (28 September - 3 October - 6 day week because of the Monday while on camp)

Swim: 4 session totalling 6.3 km in 3 hours 07 minutes
Bike: 3 sessions totalling 120.4km in 4:03
Run: 3 sessions totalling 39.4km in 3:54 - including a 2 hour run that ended up being exctly 21.1km
Total: 10 sessions totalling 166.1km in 10:94


Week 29 (4 -10 October) - Friday off with what I thought was a head cold, but probably turned out to be an extremely bad dose of hayfever.

Swim: 3 session totalling 5.65 km in 2 hours 31 minutes - including 28x100m in one session
Bike: 3 sessions totalling 203.2km in 7:45 - including a 105.4km (4:00) ride in a howling Southerly
Run: 4 sessions totalling 38.1km in 3:46 - including my first ever 10km race
Total: 10 sessions totalling 247km in 14:01

Today, I completed my first ever 10km race. I ended up doing about 1minute slower than I had hoped for(47:55), but still managed a top ten finish for my age group (10th of 19 in the 35+ masters males), in the top half of the men's field (25th of 54) and and well inside the top 20% of all runners (28th of 148). As I said above, it was barely over 5 degrees so not the best of conditions and I had done a 4 hour ride in the howling wind the day before. All in all a pretty good day at the office.

I have just finished watching the men's (cycling) road race at the Commonwealth Games (hence the very late posting). What a fascinating race and a brilliant tactical race by the Kiwis and Aussies. They ditched Cavendish with about 10km to go - brilliant! Aussie first and Hayden Raulston (NZ) second, Scotsman 3rd - well done boys!

98 days to go!

Holy crap! Less than 100 days to go! Where the hell did all that time go?

I know I keep saying 'bring it on', but the 100 day to go mark is a scary milestone. Before I know it race day will be here. Surely pre-race nerves don't start this far out from an iron-distance race!?!

A little bit crook

I have come down with a nasty head cold over the last few days. I was able to train yesterday and managed an excellent Ironman effort ride and easy 60 minute hill run, but this morning I woke up feeling like crap. I decided that it wasn't a good idea to head to the pool and that I should take it easy for the day. So the sofa became my friend for the day and I spent the day marking some assignments.

I must have been worse than I thought, as I almost fell asleep about 2:30pm. I was just completely exhausted. By 5pm I was feeling much better and this evening I feel like I ready for the weekend's training that's ahead of me.

On the evening of 30 August 2001 I was also feeling unwell, but this time it was much worse and I would not recover quite so easily.

30 August 2001 (9 days post accident)

Today was a bit of a milestone for me. I managed to clear the blockage and, with the help of that crane (see Help Needed), got the bowels in motion for the first time since the morning of 21 August. I'd like to say that it was a huge relief, but the fact is that it was extremely painful and I am not looking forward to having to go through it all again tomorrow.

At dinner time I wasn't feeling so flash and really didn't feel like eating. To be honest, eating hasn't been that easy anyway. The dietician came the other day as they are concerned that I haven't been eating enough protein. I need it to help maintain my wasting muscles. The only problem is that even the smell of cooked meat turns my stomach. So when I didn't feel up to eating dinner tonight, I didn't think much of it.

Carleen has just left for the evening and the change of shift has started. At the 9:30-10pm change-over the night nurse comes on for the half hour or so before the others leave. There is a new night nurse on tonight. She's a Russian-Australian and she's nice enough albeit a little bit of the sterotypical Russian. The afternoon shift have just have just left, the lights are turned down and the ward goes quite.

It's bloody cold in hear tonight. So much so that I am shivering uncontrollably. I am all hazy in the head too and I am not really sure what is going on around me. I can hear something going on out at reception, but can't make any sense of it. I press the nurse call button.

"Yes, dear?" she says in a soft soothing voice. "Can you please get me another blanket? It's really cold in here." She presses here hand on my forehead. "I think you have a fever," she says and she reaches for a thermometer and presses it under my arm. Then, whammo I get the most intense pain in my stomach and a massive pain down my right shoulder. This is different to the intense burning pain that I experienced from the accident. It's like wave after wave of unbelievable cramps. I want to bend double to help relieve the pain, but I am unable to becuase of my injuries and this seems to double the intensity of the pain.

The pain is all consuming, but I can just hear the nurse say "41" and she heads out of the room. She seems to be away for a very long time, but she returns and hands me some pills and a drink to wash them down. I take the pills and drink the water, but it just comes straight back up. She heads out again and returns with a small cup of a think white liquid. "Take this, it will stop you from vomitting", she says calmly. I get half of it down and then wretch it all back up. I can't stop wretching and, unbelievably the pain intensifies some more.

This isn't good. Something is seriously wrong. Why isn't she getting a doctor? I need help (again), but no one is getting it for me. Eventually someone comes to give me an injection and the vomitting stops, but I am still shivering like crazy and the cold cloths aren't making any difference. The pain begins to subside and I drift in and out of consciousness. Still cold and no very scared.

The pain returns over and over again all night and when Mary-Lou (the registrar) arrives in the morning my temperature is still hovering around 40. Mary-Lou examines my stomach and then heads out to call the surgeon in charge of my case. She seems very concerned and I can hear her having stern words with the night nurse.

When she returns she tells me that they are going have to urgently send me back to the Austin Hospital for treatment. "We don't know what is wrong, but they will be able to sort things out." Carleen has arrived and I am concerned that she does not get too upset, but the truth is I am shit scared myself. I thought that I had come through the worst of it, but this pain tells me that something is seriously wrong. An infection? Internal bleeding? Something much worse?

Within 30 minutes, after going through the agony of the transfer from the bed to the gurney on top of the on-going pain in my stomach, I am in the back of an ambulance and speeding my way back to the hospital I just came from a couple fo days ago. One step forward and two steps back...

I am still here

Just a quick post to say that things are still trucking along nicely. Its been a while since I've had the chance for a full update (lots of work, etc) and I will be on to that some time this week, but here are some recent highlights:

• Training weekend with Sam Warriner that far exceeded my expectations. The small technique tweaks that I was able to gather have already proved to be very useful. More about this later in the week.
• The weekend on the training camp was also hugely beneficial as I was able to spend for days thinking about nothing but training and with Coach Geoff along too, I was able to learn heaps more from him too.
• The last few weeks I have also been focussing on doing the trunk exercises that Geoff gave me a few months ago, but that I had only been doing intermittently. These are really starting to pay dividends, especially with my running. Having Coach there for the last 2km also was a huge motivating factor (Thanks Geoff, I really do appreciate it!).
• The start of an 8 week build in my program this week included a 2:45 Brick (2 hour bike to 45 min run transition). Using the stuff I learnt on the camp I was able to get off the bike and run at 5 minute km pace (30seconds/km faster than I have been able to do to date in training). Still slow, but a HUGE jump up for me. I then followed that up with a run the next day which ended up being exactly 21.1km in 2 hours.
• Yesterday I moved up to the 40-44 age group. Yep, I am officially 40 years old and in the best shape of my life.
• I have now started to loose weight again. I have dropped from 104 to 101.5 and I haven't yet completed all of the food diary stuff for my coach anmd therefore haven't tweaked my nutrition. I can't wait to see what happens when I do sort out my nutrition - I'd better get those diaries to Geoff.
• Motivation is still high. Bring it on!

All hot and bothered

Firstly, sorry for the long delay since my last post. It's been a mad few weeks and its difficult to fit in all my work (including some evening meetings), sixteen or so hours of training plus core exercises, keeping my training records up to date, starting a food diary to try and get my nutrition sorted, a half marathon and a training camp (more about that later), talking to the senior pupils at East Taieri Primary School about my story... and somewhere in amongst all of that ... life. So the blog has had to go on hold for a little while.

Needless to say I am still working hard and (hopefully) making small gains in my base fitness. I am staying as close as possible to the program that Coach Geoff has me working on, but the weather has been all over the place and some sessions have had to be move indoors. Its been a month of big contrasts in the weather. I've trained in everything from driving rain, to heavy snow (last Saturday on our long ride), bitterly cold winds and gusts of up to 140km/hour (last Wednesday night when doing some speed work - I've never run so fast in my life). Contrast this with a balmy (well, high teens anyway), sunny day on Sunday 12th, when I ran the Dunedin Moro Half Marathon and my body doesn't know what it is up for.

The Moro Half turned out to be a bit of a disaster all round. The day started out with perfect conditions: overcast, about 12 degrees and not a breath of wind, so I was all psyched for a good race. I had already done 13 hours of training for the week and had a light pool session a couple of hours before the half marathon, but I was feeling good. I wasn't setting out to do a PB, but I just thought I'd settle into a rhythm and see how things panned out.

After my pool session I headed up the hill for a quick second breakfast and to pick up little bro' Chris. I figured he'd have some wholemeal toast that I could lather with jam and peanut butter, but no such luck, so I settled into a large bowl of rice bubbles, milk and a couple of tablespoons of sugar (Mistake No. 1). I figured, I'd had enough in my first breakfast and didn't go too hard in the pool and thought that there would be energy drink on-course (Mistake No. 2), so figured some high GI nutrition would be fine to get me through.

As I said, conditions couldn't have been better. It's a tough course as far as the local half marathons go and the large crowds mean that PB's are very difficult, so I was pretty relaxed, but when the gun went off, I thought 'what the hell, I'll give it a bit of nudge today' (Mistake No. 3). The first 1,500 metres was slow as all the foot traffic slows everyone up, but after that I settled into a nice comfortable rhythm at about my PB pace. In the last few halves, I'd been having trouble getting back into rhythm after a drinks station and my pace had slowed by 10 seconds or so after each one, but Geoff had given me something to try and it had worked a treat. In fact, after the first drinks station (5km), I even picked up my pace for about 1,500 metres (Mistake No. 4). By the 7km mark, though, my right hip started to tighten and I started to feel like I was running with a flatty. There was no power at all in my right leg and it was starting to drag a little.

I managed to cope with the pain in my hip through to the 12km mark, when I was distracted by a conversation with a fellow competitor and it seemed to disappear. I picked up the pace a little again (although, by now a PB was gone) and headed up the Roseneath Hill. By now the sun had been streaming down for the past 20 minutes and I sweating like I was in a sauna and, while I had managed to get plenty of water on board at the drinks stations so far, there was no energy drink. Then, half way up the hill, WHAMMO! My head went into a tail spin! My vision was a little blurred and just putting one foot in front of the other became and huge undertaking. I could no longer run in a straight line and I knew this wasn't a good sign. I had seen people pass out in this race before so I decided that I'd better not end up in the gutter and shipped off to the hospital where they would tell me to lay off the training. Time to walk.

I ended up walking a few times between over the last 6 km, but still managed a course PB (1:58:36, 90 seconds faster than last year). I was in a sorry state at the finish. My legs almost gave way on me and I had to lay on my back for a good 10 minutes and I needed food and drink and lots of it. It took me a full hour to come right, but at least I wasn't as bad as the guy that had passed out with 2km to go.

Lesson learned, though, get the nutrition right and drink more. I also learned what it was like to literally run on empty and some of the early warning signs for when this sort of thing kicks in. I reckon this is gonna come in handy during Challenge Wanaka next January when the temperature could peak well into the 30s.

9/11

Today is the ninth anniversary of the 9/11 disaster in New York. Carleen and I have just watched a documentary of footage shot by the general public as the Twin Towers came down and memories of the day it all happened came flooding back.

11 September 2001 (Bethesda Rehabilitation Hospital)
"Wake up, wake up, you have to see this!" says a nurse as she shakes my shoulder.

"Wha... Wha... What?" I splutter as I slowly open my eyes to see the night nurse turning on the TV.

It's only bloody 6am, what the hell can be so important that they needed to wake me. Its the first bloody descent night's sleep I've had in ages and she decides to wake me!

"Holly shit! Is that real? What's happening? When did this happen?" I bombard the nurse with questions.

"It's live. It's happening now. A plane just crashed into the World Trade Centre!" She replies.

A moment later the footage switches to the second tower and we witness the plane slam into the side of the building.

A million thoughts are going through my head. Is this an accident? Is it happening anywhere else? Are we safe in Australia? Oh, my god, I hope Carleen is safe? Why?...

This is no accident and that this is no minor incident. What I can see is beyond belief and I don't want to believe that it's true. I can't handle the fact that not only is my own world in turmoil, but this could be the start of the end for the rest of the world. I begin to sob.

The panic that is gripping the entire western world is palpable and I am lying here helpless, unable to be with the ones that I love to comfort them. I hope Carleen isn't watching this. I hope she will be here soon. I need to hold her.

Oh no! Someone just jumped! I sob uncontrollably...

Oh my god! That building just collapsed. Will it ever end!

Oh my god! Make it stop! Make it stop!...

By the end of the day, I was completely exhausted and I had shed more tears than I thought it was possible for any individual to have. I thought the tears were over and that I had come to terms with my own plight. Now what was I to do. That evening the images that shocked the world were indelibly etched on my memory and forever more those images will transport me back to that hospital bed and to the raw emotion and heart ache of 9/11/2001.

Help Needed

I am struggling to loose weight and I am in desperate need of help with my nutrition. After reporting that I had reached the milestone of 102.5kg, I have now bounced back to around 104kg (although I can be as high as 106, depending on the time of the day).

My nutrition is haphazard at best and I really need professional advice. I am struggling to balance the need to maintain my energy levels (especially now that the volume of training has increased substantially) with the need to loose weight. Ideally, I need to loose around 1kg per week between now and race day without being so lacking in energy that I can't train.

Can you help or do you know someone who might be able to help? Of course, I am prepared to pay for on-going tailored meal plans, but if anyone knows anyone that would be willing to help me out of the goodness of their heart (or at least at a discounted rate), I'd be extremely grateful.

I needed a lot of help a couple of days after arriving at Bethesda in 2001, too. But the help I needed was of an entirely different nature.

28 August 2001 (7 days post accident)

This morning I am feeling heaps better, but I am still very frustrated by this huge swelling. Its bad enough being on my back 24/7, but I can't even move my pelvis off the bed at all and its bloody uncomfortable. I am able to tilt the top half of the bed a bit, but because the swelling is putting a lot of pressure on the wounds around my ex-fixes (external fixators), I can't manage more than about a 20 degree bend at the waist. At least I am able to sit up a little - one small step in the right direction.

The nurses are great here and I have really taken a shine to one or two of them, plus one of the registrars that is looking after me. Adrian, a very camp male nurse, and I get on like a house on fire and he has the most wicked sense of humour. Mary-Lou, the registrar, is also extremely caring and has really taken the time to explain things to Carleen and I and she has the most compassionate bed-side manner. The rest of the staff are wonderful too and this has made my first few days here a huge boost to my moral.

My room-mate, Harry, isn't much for conversation. He is 85 and was run down on a median strip as he waited to cross a pedestrian crossing. He has Alzheimers and is almost completely deaf. Sadly, it seems that he has no relatives to visit him and although he tells the nurses that his wife was just in the other day, they told me that he has never been married. Occasionally we talk about what's on the telly and how good the meals are in here, but we don't talk more ten times a day.

The staff are a quite concerned that my immobility is going to cause me to get bedsores that could be a serious threat to my recovery. In fact, Mary-Lou said that she has read of cases where people have people have died from their bedsores. The result is that they have ordered me a state of the art airbed that continuously pumps air through the mattress to keep it inflated and they can adjust the pressure to relieve pressure spots on my body as they arise - very cool, I can't wait!

Of more immediate concern for the nurses, however, is doing something about the response to the first question from the nurse this morning.

"When was the last time you had a bowel motion?"

"The morning of the accident", I responded.

"Ah", said the nurse, "that would be a problem. I can't believe no one has picked this up from your chart. Do you need to go?"

"Nope. Don't feel like it and don't think that I could even if I did. I can't move off the bed."

"We'll have to do something about that", she said. "And, you're going to have to learn to go on the bed".

What the! How the hell am I supposed to take a dump with Harry in the room and reception right across the hall from my room door. Let alone on a bed pan, lying flat on my back. I could feel my but cheeks (or what was left of them) attempt to clench, but there was just no muscle left - another problem I thought. Besides, how are they going to get a bedpan underneath me. - with a crane.

The nurse returned a while later with some senokot.

"Here this should loosen you up and give you the urge to go", she said as she handed them to me with a glass of water. "Make sure you drink plenty of water over the next few hours too, please"

At this point you might be wondering how someone goes for a week without getting out of bed to go to the toilet. Simple: a) the shock has sent my system into a tail spin and I am completely constipated, and; b) my peeing is on auto pilot as I have two catheters (one indwelling - you guessed it, in my 'you know what' to act as a splint for my torn urethra to heal - and one supra-pubic - that goes through an incision just above where my pubic hair used to finish directly into my bladder to drain it of urine). So, number ones are under control, but number twos are now somewhat of a problem!

I take the laxative, but now I am very concerned about how, when I do get the urge, I am going to get on the bed pan. Just rolling me from side to side to clean my wounds is still a major exercise and it is still incredibly painful as the swelling moves around my pelvis. It will be impossible for them to lift me just to get a bedpan underneath me, let alone find my bum hole amongst all that swelling. Oh well, I guess they have it all under control.

Its now the end of the day and I can feel some rumblings going on and I call the nurse.

"I think that I might need to go to the toilet soon."

"I'll get you the bedpan. I'll be back in a minute."

"No rush, I don't think its coming in any hurry."

She has just returned with a small green oval dish that looks more like something the dog (a Chihuahua, rather than a Saint Bernard) would drink out of than something that I expected to go to the toilet on.

"What am I supposed to do with that?", I say with a smile.

She smiles back, "I'll put it under you if you like." She pulls the curtains and lifts the bed clothes, only to discover just how difficult the task will be. She has a couple of goes, but there is just no way she can get it in position. "I think we need reinforcements. Can you hold on while I get some help?" "Sure, I'm not going anywhere and I'm not entirely sure that I am ready to use it anyway."

When she returns she is accompanied by an orderly and two other nurses and... A CRANE! "We are going to use this to lift you off the bed so that we can get you on the bed pan properly. We put the harness underneath your hips and legs and lift you with the crane. It saves all of our backs and should be best for you." 'Great', I think to myself, 'oh well, any sense of dignity I had left went out the window the moment they started cleaning the ooze off my indwelling catheter anyway, so what harm can being lifted on to the karzee by a crane be?'

"I think that is going to be quite painful." I suggest. But I know that this needs to happen. They begin passing the harness underneath me as carefully as they can, but they can't help but move the swelling so that it pulls on my wounds and I wince in pain. It takes them a full ten minutes to strap me up and hook me up to the crane. "It doesn't look very safe. Won't it fall over?, I ask. "Its lifted people much bigger than you."

They push the button and the crane slowly winds into action. The slack is taken up and they pause, then it slowly lifts me off the bed. The pain is excrutiating as the entire weight of the swelling moves to immediately below my pelivs, pulling down on my fractures and slightly tearing the skin around where my ex-fixes enter my my body.

"Stop! Put me down!" They lower me to the bed. "I can't do it."

"We have to try", one nurse says, "you will get very sick if you don't go."

"I know, but please get the pan under me as quick as you can."

We try again and this time they lift me completely off the bed and I feel the fractures in my pelvis move. "Quick!" I say through clenched teeth and the pan is slid under me. The crane returns me to the bed and by now I am covered in beads of sweat from the ordeal.

"Are you ok?", inquires a nurse. I nod in reply, but its a lie. I am in a lot of pain and the worst thing is I know I am going to have to go the whole ordeal again to get off the bloody thing - and I'll probably have to repeat it every day for the next untold weeks.

"We'll leave you alone now", says the nurse as pulls the curtain behind her. A lot of good that did. Harry is talking with one of the other nurses and I can hear every word of the conversation the nurses at reception are having. They may as well have been sitting on the edge of the bed for all the difference the curtain made. And, by the way, did no one tell them that it is physically impossible to shit while lying flat on your back!

I've persisted for half an hour, but to be honest I can't even manage to engage the right muscles and the pills really haven't made that much of a difference. I call the nurse and they all pile back into the room to get the crane into action to lift me off.

An incomplete mission, but I did appreciate all of the help. Maybe we'll have better luck tomorrow.

Weeks 22-24 - Build-Rest-Build

Sorry that I haven't had much of a chance to put many posts up for the last few weeks. I have been (and continue to be) really busy at work and with the increasing training load too, it is becoming quite difficult to fit it all in. Anyway you know that I had an enforced rest week the week before last and it seems that this is paying off as last night I was able to email Geoff to say that for the first time in three or four months I felt 'strong fatigued' (knackered but feeling some how stronger).

The last three weeks have been a case of build (duration and intensity), rest (recouperation and regeneration) and then building from where I left off the week before. Unfortunately something cropped up in the first of the build weeks which meant that I missed a 50 minute run and my rest week was more of a rest than I had hoped, but with the travel and conference, I fitted in what I could. Last week, however, was definitely my biggest week yet, although a could of sessions were done indoors because of the weather and training late afternoon when the light was fading. The last three weeks, then, have looked like this:

Week 22 (16-22 August) - The week nine years ago when my accident occurred.
Swim: 4 session totalling 8.8km in 4 hours 29 minutes
Bike: 4 sessions totalling 168.8km in 6:53 - including a 91km (3:45) ride on Saturday
Run: 3 sessions totalling 28.4km in 2:50
Total: 11 sessions totalling 206km in 14:11

Week 23 (23-29 August) - rest and out of town.
Swim: 2 session totalling 4.8km in 2 hours 32 minutes
Bike: 1 session totalling 44.1km in 1:29 - as a brick session
Run: 2 sessions totalling 11.5km in 1:04
Total: 5 sessions totalling 60.4km in 5:06

Week 24 (30 August - 5 September) - on 5 September 1992 Carleen and I were married (I don't know how she has tolerated me for the last 18 years!?)

Swim: 4 session totalling 9.825 km in 4 hours 54 minutes
Bike: 4 sessions totalling 239.9km in 8:44 - including a 101km (4:10) ride in a howling Southerly on Saturday and 2 indoor session
Run: 4 sessions totalling 37.1km in 3:37 - including 1 indoor session
Total: 12 sessions totalling 239.9km in 17:15

The next six weekends are jam packed and it looks something like this:

Sunday 12 Sept - Moro Half Marathon (Dunedin)
Sunday 19 Sept - Race 4 Winter Duathlon Series (North Taieri)
23-27 Sept - Challenge Wanaka Training Camp (Wanaka)
Sunday 3 Oct - I TURN 40!
Sunday 10 Oct - Hill Free Half Marathon (Outram)
Sunday 17 Oct - Trails Half Marathon (Hawea) - I'm an unlikely starter for this one as Carleen is away.
Sunday 24 Oct - Cromwell Half Marathon (Cromwell)
Then its only five weeks to the South Island Half Ironman (Ashburton)