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.
28 September 2010
11 September 2010
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.
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.
07 September 2010
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.
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)
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)
01 September 2010
Are you a mamil too?
A friend sent me this link to an article about mamils (Middle Age Men in Lycra). For some reason he thought it sounded like the article had been written about me... http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/magazine-10965608
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