4am, 16 January 2011, Oak Ridge Hotel Room.
Shit, shit, shit. I need another piss!
Okay, nice and easy, now. We don't want a repeat of the 2am episode. You see at 2am I had been woken by a bladder fit to burst and I miraculously swung my legs off the side of the bed, walked almost effortlessly to the toilet and proceeded to pee. Very proud, but utterly amazed, at how sprightly my passage to the toilet had been. I proceeded to unleash the torrent of toxins that my kidneys had spent the last few hours processing in an effort to replenish my system after the grueling punishment it had received in the preceding 24 hours. As the flood became a trickle, I sighed a huge sigh of relief and relaxed. Then, in an instant I was on all fours, one hand in the bowl, the other beside the toilet and my face centimetres from the u-bend giving it a full-blown inspection. Hmmm, this can't be good, but I guess I have just finished my first iron-distance race in the worst conditions in ironman history, I thought to myself as I pondered how I had just managed to go from vertical to horizontal in no time flat. Taking a deep breath, I slowly got back to my feet, hugging the wall all the way back to bed. Note to self: next time try not to pass out.
So, as you can guess, I'm not too keen on this second trip to the toilet. In fact, I think I'll lie here for a few minutes in the hope that I'll just pop back off to sleep and the pressure in my bladder will some how dissipate. In fact, its at moments like these that I'd be thankful to have the old catheter bag back (I have some funny stories about those that I'll have to include here some day) - oh, what a convenience that would be.
Okay, I have to stop thinking about my bladder. Just concentrate on sleep... sleepy, you feel sleepy... Oh, sod it, I'll have to get it, the pressure is too great. Slowly does it, slowly does it.
Legs out! I said, "Legs out!" Bollocks, I think they need a little bit of a helping hand. Hands under right leg aaaand... Lift! aaaand left leg aaaand... Lift! Deep breath now... aaaand sit UP! Now that wasn't so bad and the head's feeling fine too. On to our feet and off we go. Nice and slowly. Now that wasn't so hard was it.
Now, time for some intense concentration, as I said, we don't want a repeat of the last episode, do we! Release slowly, just a dribble now. Great, all systems still fully operational. Phew, that's a relie... Oh shit, here we go again! Maybe if I just turn around really quickly and head straight back to the bed I'll be okay. No that's not working. THUD!
"It's okay, Geoff! I'm okay. I just passed out, but I am fine!" My temple had smashed against the porcelain hand basin with an almighty crack en route to the steely cold tiles of the bathroom floor, but somehow I lay their perfectly lucid and relatively unscathed.
"What the hell just happened?" Geoff said as he sped to my aid at lightening speed. I don't know how he didn't pass out himself, as he barely had time to wake up before he bolted to me in the bathroom and he had just finished the Lake Wanaka Half yesterday too. "Shit, mate! What the hell were you doing?" he queried. "I passed out having a piss. It happened at 2am as well." I said and proceeded to tell him about my two fainting episodes. "You stupid bastard!", he said, "why didn't you get me up to help you?" "I didn't want to disturb you and I thought I'd be okay this time." "Why didn't you sit down the second time then?!" Dah, why didn't I think of that? But I guess these things don't come to you that easily when you have spent more than 15 hours of the previous 24 hours moving non-stop under your own steam and then an hour and half in a medical tent unable to get far beyond horizontal.
My journey had begun with me strewn on the pavement having just been mown down by a truck and here I was, almost 10 years, in the same position - compromised, vulnerable and in a far from healthy state - and you know what? I couldn't wipe the smile off my face!
I had done it. I had come way further than full circle and done something no one would have believed possible. I had become an ironman!
Next time: 4am the day before and the start of one of the proudest days of my life.
21 July 2011
03 July 2011
My Tale of Challenge Wanaka 2011
You may have wondered where my race report has disappeared to. To be honest I don't know why I have been reluctant to write it, but I think that it is coming soon. Strangely, even though I religiously record all of my event stats, I haven't even put my race details in my results spreadsheet.
Perhaps it is because deep down I feel like I did not give the race my all. A time of more than 15 hours was gut wrenching and not being able to run the marathon almost broke me on race day; not the cramp itself, just the fact that I couldn't run. I had trained so hard and yet I was not able to complete the race as I had scripted it in my head.
I know that's a load of bollocks and I should be proud of my achievement and, trust me I am, but that hasn't stopped me being more than a little disappointed. The fact that training has been far from ideal this year is also playing on my mind and has made me reluctant to write about my race experience for fear that it will discourage me even further.
But recently, I have had a few fleeting moments of reflection of all of the amazing and wonderful things that happened to me last year in training and the enormity of the target that I set myself and achieved on 15 January.
I have just re-read Dean Karnazes' brilliant first book Ultramarathon Man and his descriptions of his ultradistance running experiences brought all my experiences flooding back in technicolour. His third book, so eloquently entitled Run, and which I read in record time, also stirred many emotional memories of race day. But perhaps it was today's run up Dunedin's Pineapple Track and Flagstaff that has rekindled my enthusiasm to tell my tale.
Today's was a 90-minute easy, recovery run and last year this would have resulted in me selecting the flattest route possible, preferably out of the wind and somewhere that I didn't have to think about things too much. But today I decided the Pineapple Track was a must do. The track rises more than 520 metres to the summit of Flagstaff and opens to a panorama across the city to the ocean, breathtaking views inland to the Rock and Pillar Range and over to the Taieri Plains as they stretch out beneath. The track to the summit is 4km long and it took me 38 minutes to get to the top, but I felt exhilarated when I reached the top, not tired at all. It has been more than 20 years since I have been to the top of Flagstaff and never before have I considered running it, and hell would have frozen over before I'd have selected it as my long easy run.
Today, I realised that Challenge Wanaka has changed me. Easy has a new definition. No longer is easy the path of least resistance. Easy is now about how I approach a challenge (a state of mind and attitude towards the challenge), not the challenge itself.
I think I had expected a huge change to wash over me as I crossed the finish line in some baptism of enlightenment. When that didn't happen I just assumed that I had not achieved what I had set out to do and that is what I have continued to believe for the past six months. It's not that I didn't feel different following my race, I did. I felt some how more... I don't know... just more, actually. It was, and continues to be, a weird feeling. But today, I realise that the huge change that has happened is actually very small: so small I didn't even notice it's there, yet so huge that it has changed the course of my life forever. In a way it is the opposite of my accident, which was so instantly and tangibly life-changing (in both good and bad ways), when the reality was the changes I made as a result of my accident were so very small. The accident imposed change upon me, Challenge has empowered me to make a change.
The tale of something so life-changingshould must not remain untold...
Watch this space...
Perhaps it is because deep down I feel like I did not give the race my all. A time of more than 15 hours was gut wrenching and not being able to run the marathon almost broke me on race day; not the cramp itself, just the fact that I couldn't run. I had trained so hard and yet I was not able to complete the race as I had scripted it in my head.
I know that's a load of bollocks and I should be proud of my achievement and, trust me I am, but that hasn't stopped me being more than a little disappointed. The fact that training has been far from ideal this year is also playing on my mind and has made me reluctant to write about my race experience for fear that it will discourage me even further.
But recently, I have had a few fleeting moments of reflection of all of the amazing and wonderful things that happened to me last year in training and the enormity of the target that I set myself and achieved on 15 January.
I have just re-read Dean Karnazes' brilliant first book Ultramarathon Man and his descriptions of his ultradistance running experiences brought all my experiences flooding back in technicolour. His third book, so eloquently entitled Run, and which I read in record time, also stirred many emotional memories of race day. But perhaps it was today's run up Dunedin's Pineapple Track and Flagstaff that has rekindled my enthusiasm to tell my tale.
Today's was a 90-minute easy, recovery run and last year this would have resulted in me selecting the flattest route possible, preferably out of the wind and somewhere that I didn't have to think about things too much. But today I decided the Pineapple Track was a must do. The track rises more than 520 metres to the summit of Flagstaff and opens to a panorama across the city to the ocean, breathtaking views inland to the Rock and Pillar Range and over to the Taieri Plains as they stretch out beneath. The track to the summit is 4km long and it took me 38 minutes to get to the top, but I felt exhilarated when I reached the top, not tired at all. It has been more than 20 years since I have been to the top of Flagstaff and never before have I considered running it, and hell would have frozen over before I'd have selected it as my long easy run.
Today, I realised that Challenge Wanaka has changed me. Easy has a new definition. No longer is easy the path of least resistance. Easy is now about how I approach a challenge (a state of mind and attitude towards the challenge), not the challenge itself.
I think I had expected a huge change to wash over me as I crossed the finish line in some baptism of enlightenment. When that didn't happen I just assumed that I had not achieved what I had set out to do and that is what I have continued to believe for the past six months. It's not that I didn't feel different following my race, I did. I felt some how more... I don't know... just more, actually. It was, and continues to be, a weird feeling. But today, I realise that the huge change that has happened is actually very small: so small I didn't even notice it's there, yet so huge that it has changed the course of my life forever. In a way it is the opposite of my accident, which was so instantly and tangibly life-changing (in both good and bad ways), when the reality was the changes I made as a result of my accident were so very small. The accident imposed change upon me, Challenge has empowered me to make a change.
The tale of something so life-changing
Watch this space...
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