The IM WA 4th Dec 2011

Fuck has to be one of the most versatile and arresting verbs in the English language. The Ironman and fuck, or more specifically it's adjectival relative 'fucking', went together perfectly for me last Sunday in Busselton,Western Australia. I wasn't counting the number of times I said it or heard it said, but it was with us all day. And one of my favouite expressions, Fuck Me Dead, was said more often than usual as the day progressed. But then when I thought about it for only a second, I didn't enter an event known as the Ironman and expect it to be a walk over. So let's talk about the Ironman.

Sunday 3:30am: Weight 71.2kgs.
I bounced up at 3.30am, an hour earlier than usual and had toast, some carb drink (PSP), and a banana for breakfast, as recommended by Paul (POD). Not that tasty but it did the job. Simon and Rebecca collected me at 4.15am and together with Mark (one of the famous Branagan brothers) we were off to the jetty. As we waited for the start of the swim, there was so much nervous tension in the air you could almost touch it. People were giving each other high-fives and hugs and generally doing their best to calm the nerves for the day ahead. Simon and I chatted away, oblivious to what each other was saying. I was talking to him on his deaf side and he was talking to me with both earplugs in. It was deep and meaningful. I found myself feeling totally calm and can remember really enjoying the atmosphere. I had a plan for the day and nothing was going to divert me from it. The plan was to ignore the pain and enjoy the event.

5:45am THE SWIM

Geographe Bay was not its usual calm self and by the time I hit the back end of the jetty it was bumpy and messy. There were people taking this far more seriously than I was at this early stage. Quite a few swam right over the top of me, which started to become a bit annoying. By the time I was getting close to the 2km mark, I’d had enough and resisted anyone trying to push through. Then once around the end of the jetty I even started to overtake a few swimmers. On the swim back to the beach I went a bit wide and probably added an extra 100 metres to the course at least. As it turned out the swim was the fun part of the day and I managed to complete it in my predicted time. After 1hr 22mins I was out and off to T1, the first transition.

7:07am T1 (SWIM – BIKE TRANSITION)
At 12mins 29secs T1 proved to be the longest leg of the day. Now I know why people practice this stuff. Eoin for example managed it in 3mins 3secs; POD did it in 2mins 38secs (he must sleep with his bike shoes on!!); Howsey did it in an even better 2mins 33secs; Mark managed 7mins 37 secs (his first IM) and Simon managed it in 5mins 35secs in his first IM.

NOTE to self #1: don't pay attention to advice from IM WA. The advice said you're better to sew your numbers onto your top. Gene was kind enough to do this. Mine then ripped off as I was putting it on in T1 and I spent the next couple of minutes wandering around asking for some safety pins. When I got eventually found some, I didn't have my glasses and couldn't for the life of me put the number back on. I then found a volunteer who helped me out. That took me another couple of minutes. Then I managed to put sun cream all over my sunnies and eventually had to ask a volunteer if I could use her T-shirt to wipe the glasses clean. Major little time wasters.

NOTE to self #2: be prepared and move your arse!

7:29am THE BIKE
The bike leg was not one I was looking forward to, even though it's my favourite discipline of the three. The course comprised 3 x 60km laps, 180kms all up. It was blowing a gale by the time I exited T1, so the ride out to the forest was hot, windy and hard work, but to my surprise I enjoyed it. The recurring pain in my right shoulder showed no signs of turning up and the ride back into town with a brilliant tail wind was as much fun as you can have dressed in lycra and bright blue shoes. Down on the TT bars, in the biggest gear possible and pushing hard. You really know you're alive. As Ken Robinson would say: I was in my element.

Then at exactly 62kms as I rode out on the start of lap 2, the pain appeared. A sharp stab in the right shoulder that stayed for the remainder of the ride. It was like someone sticking a knife into my shoulder and became incredibly annoying, making it impossible to get comfortable and meaning I had to continually shift in the saddle to stay on the bike. I popped about 6 Panadol over an hour then accidently dropped the other 6 on the road somewhere. They didn't seem to be making much difference anyway so I didn't bother going back for them. Of course I then discovered, after the Panadol wore off, that they were making a bit of a difference, but by then it was too late to turn back and search for the ones I’d dropped. From thereon in with 118kms still to go, the ride was long, hot and incredibly uncomfortable. I stopped at each water station, filled up the bidons, covered myself in ice cold water and threw down as much fluid as I could handle.

One thing I did to take my attention off the pain, was note the sort of bikes people had and the riding kit they were wearing. There was a lot of money on that course. The standout for me was a young woman in a stunning black and white chequered outfit, on what looked to be a $20,000 bike, topped off with a state of the art aero helmet. The only problem was she was at least half a lap behind me, and I was a threat to no-one. Still she looked the goods and eventually passed me on the run!

The shoulder pain was simply an exercise in mind over matter, which everyone on the course was experiencing in some shape or form, so I felt good knowing I was part of the IM club. I thought of Mitch doing the same event on the same course last year and being so sick that he vomited, then still managed to finish in 10hrs, 32mins. And Enda in the same event in 2009 finishing in 9hrs 47mins and being so wacked when he came across the finish line that he had to be put on a drip. It's safe to say it's not an event for the faint hearted. My approach was to remind myself that all I had to do was keep pedalling and soon enough I'd be off the bike. This always works and after 6hrs 43mins and 15secs the ride was done. What sublime relief. I was impressed, weirdly enough, even though it was me I was impressed by. So I gave myself a little pat on the back and headed into T2 to get stuck into the run.

By way of a little diversion here, what makes this possible is having people at the event cheer you on and getting updates from Gene on the number of people who were in contact to check that I was still alive. I was also wearing my BRATS gear and that got a shout every time from people I'd never met before. It's amazing what a lift you get hearing people shout your name as you ride past and Etienne, Gene and Melanie all did their part here, making lots of noise each time I came into town. It was brilliant, unforgettable and a huge boost. 13 hours and 44 mins is a long time for them to be hanging around waiting for me to finish. There should be medals for the supporters as well. They put in the same hours.

2.11pm T2 BIKE - RUN
I managed T2 slightly better than T1 but still as slow as a wet week in comparison to most others. By now I was 8hrs and 5mins into the event and still had 42kms to run. The marathon was looking like it was going to be a hot one. The temperature hovered between 33 - 35C and I overheard a couple of guys saying it was 41C on some parts of the course. It probably wasn't but they were walking the marathon, so I guess it was for them.

2:18pm THE RUN – THE MARATHON

Running marathons, people will tell you that the race doesn't really start until the last 10kms. I heard the same said of the Ironman: that it doesn't really start until you're on the run. For me it was the bike, but I agree completely with the sentiment. As I wandered out of T2 and started running, and you run past the finish chute every 10kms, I heard the winner being announced as he crossed the finish line in 8hrs 12mins 39secs. Unbelievable and guaranteed to give you a bit of a hurry up. I started the marathon a little after 2pm with the sun belting down and bouncing back off the tarmac. I was feeling fine, again for the first 5 or so kms and then I started to feel a pain in the left knee, which stayed with me the whole way. I'm unable to run freely as my knee objects; a consequence of osteoporosis and various other degenerative bits and pieces. So I've developed a low impact style of running and was curious to see if I could last the distance, not having run a marathon since the Gold Coast in July 2009.

I was loaded up with salt tablets and determined not to dehydrate, as I knew both Gene and Ange were worried that Mr Wobbly would make another appearance and that would be the end of my IM attempt. This was where the POD IM school of tuition came into its own. My tutor was Enda and the text book was written by Paul. It worked a treat. I took a gel every half hour, had a drink of water and Gatorade every alternate drink station and dropped a salt tablet every hour. On top of that I stuck ice cubes in my lime green running hat (NOTE: visors are fine for speedsters, but crap for plodders. If you don't want your brain to fry, keep it on ice!). On top of that I took a paper cup filled with ice and stuck it inside my running top right next to my heart. I'd read a theory that it keeps your blood cool as it all goes via the heart. Seemed to work for me. POD's hydration/food/energy intake advice worked like a charm. At least for me. At one stage I bumped into the man himself who was bent over all cramped up, not having hydrated sufficiently on the bike, or some such thing. He had a km to go at that stage (I was just finishing my first 10km lap I think) and it must have killed him to have the finish in site and be unable to sprint to the line ( in fact he couldn't move when I saw him). He still managed to finish in 9hrs 38mins 55 secs and come in 10th in his age group and 47th over all. Quite remarkable under the circumstances.

Back at the ranch the run was becoming increasingly painful with the sun at full bore and the knee being uncooperative. As I started my last lap Gene came with me for a few minutes and passed on messages from people which gave me a huge lift. It's quite amazing what a difference the support made on the day.

I was determined not to walk at all in the marathon (it's a run after all, not a walk) and except at the drink stations, I managed to run the whole distance. On the last lap I thought about the marathons we'd run and took my inspiration from Ange's effort in the last GC marathon where she did it tough. To take my mind off the pain I started chatting to people. One bloke who looked about my age had given the run away and was walking. I gave him a pat on the back and he took up beside me, gave him some salt tablets and swapped a few war stories about the day. I then left him as he stopped to have a drink and take the salt tab. He caught up about 10mins later and as he passed me he said thanks and headed off, wishing me luck. About 15mins later I came up behind him again and he picked up to keep up with me for a second time. The conversation was repeated but this time he opted to walk and I left him behind. I started feeling better the longer the run went for the sole reason that by this stage of proceedings almost no one was passing me and I was passing everyone. Not a huge feat as most of them were walking. Nonetheless it felt good.

And at both the north and south ends of the course there were these wonderful groups of spectators. My favourites were the dozen or so locals at the north end of the course. They were dressed appropriately in party gear and swimmers, had sun shades set up, a barbie cooking all afternoon, hoses running if you wanted a spray (I did every time) and the best selection of music blaring out. The first time I came past they shouted out go Macca, did a little dance, got me to respond and cheered me on. The second time they asked me how many laps I had to go and promised to be there till the end. They sent me on with shouts and music blaring and I clapped along with them. The third lap they announced I was their favourite IM (to be) and when I came around on the final lap they all stood and gave me high 5s and cheered me on. It was a load of fun and took my mind off the knee completely.

By this time the sun was setting which was a huge relief. Coming into the final 4kms I asked a bloke I was passing if it was his final lap. He said it was but he couldn't run any more. He said he wanted to beat that bastard Tony Abbott, but doubted he'd get there in time so I let him know I'd do it on his behalf, and I did. As I got closer to the finish I could hear the noise of the announcer and the cheers of the supporters and in the final 1km lots of people gave me high 5s and cheered me on which gives you a real lift. I finally picked up my orange wrist band (a black and finally an orange each time you complete a lap) meaning about 200 metres to go and then I came into the final 100 metre chute.

It was quite an emotional experience. I was the only person in the chute - no one in front or behind me and people were crowded along the way all slapping their hands on the railings and shouting go Macca. It was starting to get dark by now. The last person I saw before I crossed the finish line was Simon who came in over an hour earlier. I heard the announcer shout out; here comes John McDonald from the famous Bondi BRATS club. Go John, go. Then the words I'd been waiting for all day: John McDonald You Are An Ironman. Now that felt brilliant!

I dropped into the arms of two volunteers, had a finish medal plonked around my neck, gave Gene and Etienne a kiss and headed around to sit down and take it all in.

It really was a memorable day. I'm going to get an IM tattoo over Xmas and think some more about the experience. I appreciate now all the guys I know who compete in an IM experience, from the decision to do one, through the training and then through the event itself. I borrowed Conor's wheels after he took a tumble in training and owe him big time for that. Louise and Conor, Enda and Ange, Kristy, Michelle, Marc and Louise all gave me words of encouragement over dinner the night before I left for Perth and sent me off with faith that I could finish.

Enda as always is one of life's generous souls and helped through all the details right down to driving me to the airport. Ange trained with me on my less than exemplary runs right through to the end. Joe and Janice were texting to see how I was doing and Laura kept in via text. Etienne flew to Perth and kept Gene company for the day (well done mate and I promise to do the same for you) and his cousin Melanie drove a 4 hour round trip to push me along. Gil and Ruby stayed in touch via the internet and even Gene’s Mum, Liz , kept asking how I was doing. Jade and Bala in London sent messages of support and the family in Wollongong did likewise, while Pascale and Yanni checked in to see whether I was still moving.

And as always I had our little Sweetheart Gabrielle with me the whole way thinking of how she used to crack up at her old man and knowing she would have sparkled every time I went past. And last of all, my best mate and Sweetheart, Gene has to be the most patient, supporting and loving wife a bloke could ever hope to have. She put up with the preparation, cooked the most spectacular meals, did most of my running training for me, didn’t bat an eye as I kept spending money on tri gear and looked after all the logistics to make it a real team effort. She’s still letting me carry on about it and even thinking of signing up herself for the Sprint in Husskie in February 2012.

Thanks My Darling.

Now what do you say: let's do it again . . .

This is it: the Busso IM gets close

I'm sitting by myself in a lovely apartment in Busselton at 7.30pm WA time.  I've been up since 4.30am Sydney time and my body's reminding me that while it might be just on dusk here, it's actually 10.30pm in Bondi and it's time to sleep. It's good to finally be in Busso and I'm starting to think seriously about Sunday.  The weather is forecast to be warm at 33C which will make a for a hot day at the office. 

I have absolutely no idea what time I'll do the race in as I've never put the three disciplines together and have never done the complete distance. So my best guess is as follows:

3.8km swim = 1hr 20mins

Transition = 10mins (hopefully 5 but let's see)

180km bike = 7hrs (if I average 25km/hr but I hope to do better)
Transition = 5mins

42.2km run = 4hrs 54mins (if I average 7mins/km as I'm completely unsure of how I will go on the run)

Total time should be around 13hrs 45mins.

That means that with the start at 5.45am on Sunday morning (the swim), I should be finishing around 7.30pm on Sunday evening.

Whether I finish or not, the moment I saw Enda do the IM here two years ago I knew I wanted to give it a go. It's always better to be a competitor than it is to be a spectator.  I figure it's a mistake not to live life to the max and the cool thing about the IM is you really get to know you're alive. 

Twelve months ago as I started training a sports physician told me not to run again as it's not good for osteoporosis. I gave the running a break and until recently haven't done much at all.  I've managed two or three 21km runs in the past couple of months.  I've travelled far too much to train properly this year, especially swimming or cycling, and as running has been more or less out of the question it's been hard to stick to a solid regime. So for my part I've done the bare minimum.

Of all the people I know who get into this sport, Enda has been his typical wonderfully generous self in helping me think the IM through and getting me set up and ready to race, all the way to driving me to the airport this morning. Brilliant and a huge thanks mate. His behind the scenes expert has been POD who should really minister to the stars when it comes to IM training and competition. He's got it wired. Simon and Mark are competing on Sunday as are others from back home, so it'll be fun seeing them out on the course.

Ange of course has been a great running partner (not so much with the swimming) and a great mate in cooking the big breakfasts at the end of the long Staurday rides. And Gene will be the happiest of all when the IM is done and I get to spend a little more time sleeping in and hanging out with her. She's also hoping I put a bit of weight back on, but I'm happy where I am currently at a healthy 68kgs, despite being fed like a king by my beautiful wife. I've never felt fitter and I can recommend it to anyone. And Etienne has managed to get off work and will be coming to Busso with Gene on Friday night so he'll get to see his old man race and be the kids' rep on the course.  Jade is going to be checking on the net from London and Pascale & Yanni will be hooking into the Multisport website from Bondi to see if I'm on target.

So we'll see how we go on Sunday. I suspect that all it requires is a bit of ticker and self belief. If I can knock this off as a 57 year old then I might give it another go when I'm 67yrs old! Let's see what Sunday brings . . . .

Count Down

It's Sunday evening after a busy weekend.  A little bit of work, a truck load of exercise (for me) and lots of food. It started with a great meal on Friday night cooked by Master Chef Enda.  On Saturday morning I headed out at 5am for a long ride to check what 180kms felt like.  I went down to Kurnell and did the loops there to take me up to 130kms.  It got a touch tedious so I headed back to Bondi at 130km and ended up having to do the last 30kms by riding around Centennial Park, again which got a bit monotonous. I did however manage to do the 180km.  It meant 6hrs:50mins on the bike which isn't very flash, but I was happy enough with the time.  I had to stop 3 times to loosen up the right shoulder which after a 'dry needling' session with Crystal on Thursday, lasted until 120kms before starting to cause pain. I also had two loo stops and loads of traffic lights and traffic on the way back to Bondi. It's not ideal but it gets the kms done. I did notice that at times your bum gets tender and I had to stand and peddle to give it a break. So between my bum, my shoulders and my right knee I felt a bit handicapped by the body.  I managed to go through 2 bidons of PSP with a spoonful of Gatorade in each to give them a bit of flavour + two bananas, two snickers bars and another bidon of water to fuel me along. No worries with the tummy which is good.

Once back home I was joined by Gene for a quick 5km run - a mini brick session - to see how it felt running off the bike.  It was warm by then but it felt OK.  Mind you it was only 5kms but I pushed it and enjoyed the run with Gene. We headed down to the beach then and had a great cool down in the water for a good 15mins.  The perfect way to finish the workout.  It was then eat for the rest of the day,  a little nanna nap and a bit of reading for work.

This morning I strolled down to the beach and swam 4.5 laps which I estimate is about 3.5kms which again was a good work out in choppy conditions.  I then joined the guys for tea and a muffin and a catch up in the sun.

After coffee at the beach with the guys I headed out for a 23km run at about midday, running up the hill to Centennial Park and then doing laps of the park and running back home.  The only thing is I can't run downhills so I had to walk down Old South Head Rd and back to Bondi.  Back home it was shower, eat a rather large, late lunch and then do a bit more work.  And I finished off just now with a stroll around Bondi taking in the atmosphere as people settled into dine outdoors at the cafes and restaurants.  It's Bondi at it's best.

So an active weekend and countdown to Busso which is exactly 3 weeks away today. Hope everyone else had a good weekend as well.

Saturday

It's a perfect Saturday 'avo here in Bondi. I'm back from my ride, having joined Gene for coffee after a huge sandwich and a sit in the sun at the beach.

I jumped up and did my 2km swim this morning at my normal snail's pace. There was quite a swell running with some lovely sets coming in (should have been on my board) and only one other swimmer doing laps of the beach. But we weren't alone. A large pod of dolphins were playing around quite close to where I was swimming and seemed to follow me for quite a whole.  They were putting on a real show.  The water was warm and bumpy with some strong rips both ways, so it was far from ideal swimming conditions. And it was pumping in down the south end of the beach meaning I was swimming a fair way out so as not to be hammered by the bigger sets.

I'd arranged for Gene to meet me at the Pavillion with my bike and riding gear so I could practice the transition from the swim to the bike and see how it felt doing a long ride (160km) after the swim. As it turned out I was out of the water a good 15mins earlier than I thought so when Gene and Ange turned up with the gear I'd had time to get my breath and check out the dolphins again. Not the quickest transition.

I headed off to Kurnell to put in the km's, passing a group of BRATS coming the opposite direction and noticing the buildup of traffic at that time of the morning. I'm normally on the bike by 5am for the long Saturday ride but today it was 7.45am before I got away.  All went well for the first 20kms and then my achilles heel - i.e. my right shoulder - started to pinch and give me little stabs of pain. This is the first time I'd done a ride immediately after a swim, so I'm wondering if the swimming is aggravating the shoulder.  What I know is the pain doesn't subside by itself.  I either had to stop the bike, get off and stretch the shoulder and neck muscles, or just put up with it.  I chose to ride as long as I could without stopping but the Garmin tells the story. 

I managed to last 42kms then had to stop as the pain was way too much.  Add to that the fact that I couldn't turn my head at all, making it a touch unsafe amongst all the traffic, and I had no option but to stop. Once I'd stretched it felt a bit better so off I went. It didn't cooperate for long though and I ended up having to stop and stretch at 56kms, 71kms, 80kms, 88kms, 106kms, 126kms, 138kms and finally at 145kms. It's a bugger of a thing to have going on while you're trying to get the km's turned over. I ended up getting through the 160kms in 6 hours which is about 25kms/hour and that's a slow time.  I didn't stop the Garmin when I stopped as I was keen to know how long it's going to take me to do the 180kms on the IM. At this rate, it's going to be a long and painful day in the saddle if I don't figure out the neck/shoulder thing.

Once I'd clocked up about 125kms going around the circuit at Kurnell I headed back to Bondi and directly into the full force of the nor' easterly gale that had build up a head of steam during the morning.  More discomfort and by that time it was getting on to 1.30 - 2pm so the Saturday traffic was full on. Not to mention the traffic lights and intersections.  Not the best day I've had on the bike.

The good thing is I know I can do 160kms under less than perfect conditions, so I figure I can manage the extra 20kms to take me through the 180km bike stage. If I do the swim in 1:30mins (maybe quicker but who knows), the bike in 7hrs (again I'd like to think I can to it quicker) and run the marathon in 5hrs, it'd make my overall time 13hrs:30mins. I guess it also depends on how hot it is on the day.

Tomorrow we're off to Homebush to do the 10km Run4Fun which I'm hopeful we can do in under 55mins.  Let's see. There's exactly 4 weeks until the Iron Man in Busso WA.  Gene and Ange have said they'd help me with some long runs in the next two weeks by Gene running with me for the first 10kms and then handing me over to Ange who will run with me for the second 10kms. This will definitely help as my training has all been solo so far. I figure you do the IM on your own so it helps to toughen up mentally by doing the bulk of the training on your own. The company on the long runs will be welcome.

I've been back home in Oz for two weeks now and there are no more trips planned between now and 4th December. So the count down begins in earnest. Here we go . . .

It's now 4 weeks away from the Iron Man in Busso on 4th December. I've not had anything like the perfect lead-up.  In fact it's been the opposite.  I arrived back in Sydney two weeks ago from Vancouver and Florida and prior to that had one week at home following a work trip to England and Switzerland, which followed a trip a few weeks prior to that to England and Europe. It's been a busy year.  I've managed to do a bit of running while away, a couple of swims and one ride. Not what I'd call a solid training regime.

Nonetheless the day I got back to Sydney (two weeks back), I did a two lap swim of Bondi with Enda, then the next day did a 10km run with Gene and Ange and on the Monday started riding again.  I've ridden to work most days for the last two weeks by heading out to LaPa and turning it into a 50km ride on the way to work, getting into the office at about 7.30am and then finishing the day off with a 20km pedal through Centennial Park on the ride home. Last Saturday I did a 150km ride which took me 5 and a half hours (slow as a wet week). I left home at 4.45am. The girls did a boot camp session at Bronte while I was out cycling and Gene cooked me a great scrambled-egg dish when I got home. I then did a 2km swim on the Sunday and have been riding every morning this week, heading out early and getting about 50kms done most mornings.  Yesterday I managed an early swim (1.5kms) and a 40km ride prior to work. Today was raining so I got a ride to the Junction with Gene and Ange and caught the train to work then ended up at Crystal's for a deep tissue massage which was great.

I plan a swim with Enda and POD in the morning then a ride to work and on Saturday morning I'll do a 2km swim followed by another long ride of 160km to see how it feels after the swim.  On Sunday morning the Rebel Fun4Fun 10km is on at Olympic Park which should be a good little work out.

I'm happy enough to do the IM and am actually looking forward to it as an experience, with a couple of caveats:  I've been experiencing a sharp pain in my right shoulder after about 2 hours on the bike so am working on that and I've done almost no running at all with the gammy right knee.  Running a marathon without any distance training is going to be a deal, especially after a 3.8km swim and a 180km ride in the WA heat. Still it's on the way. All the above guff about not time to train is just that.  My aim is to try and do the IM in under 14 hours. Let's see how we go.

Travel and training: not a good mix

THURSDAY 22^nd October

It’s now 10 weeks to the Iron Man in Busso.  This week (11 weeks out) has been almost a non-starter for training.  I left for the UK on Saturday meaning no long ride this week and then I arrived here a little weary after the flight.  Sunday was spent with Jade and Bala and their mates in London (always a treat for me and my favourite part of all my travels). Monday was spent travelling up to Preston (north of Manchester) and meeting with the client there to discuss the week’s work and the progress made since my last visit in June.  Then it was straight into running the 3 day training which means long days on my feet, and evenings out having dinner with the clients. I’ve been jumping up at the usual early hour and doing some gentle runs around the neighbourhood, until the gym opens at 6am when I’ve jumped on the stationary bike.  I’ve not been lasting long on the bike as it’s uncomfortable and incredibly boring, not to mention I only have half an hour before having to have a shower and head out to work. And it’s been raining every morning so the runs have been a bit of an effort. Week 11 is a write off.

I’m back down in London tomorrow so I’ll have a run an early around Regents Park before meeting Richard for breakfast, who’s flying in from Vancouver. Then it’s meetings during the day, dinner with Jade & Bala tomorrow night and flying off to Zurich on Saturday.  Next week I’m afraid is not going to be much better. I’m hoping to get some solid sessions in the gym at the hotel before flying back to Sydney on Tuesday, arriving home on Thursday. This means no real bike time and no swimming for two weeks, unless I find a pool in Zurich.  I hope to have a long ride on Saturday morning when I’m back home. 

TUESDAY EVENING 27^th October

As it turned out I did find a 50 metre pool in Zurich which was perfect.  It was a little weird however figuring out how to get into it.  Nothing straightforward about entering this pool.  You can't just pay your money and wander in. The only way in is via the change rooms. As there were no signs in English I guessed which door was the male entrance to the pool.  Got that wrong and ended up in the female change room.  I quickly scampered out. Then it was walking through a locker/change room, then a shower room, then a foot-wash room, then through a long room again with showers, in case you didn’t shower in the first room until finally I found my way out to the pool deck. Nothing seemed obvious to me and everything seemed obvious to everyone else.  I was having quite a chuckle.  Then into the pool only to find out that the lap direction is the other way which again felt a bit weird.  I did 40 laps and then had to find my way back out of the place.  Again it wasn’t real clear. I found my way out then walked back to the hotel, having managed the system without too much fuss and only a little embarrassment.  This morning I went back early and breezed straight through. Too easy.

I’m currently sitting in the Virgin Atlantic Lounge ay Heathrow which if you’ve not had the pleasure you really should try.  It’s all class. In an hour I’ll be boarding the 1030pm flight to Hong Kong & then on to Sydney. Can’t wait to back home with Gene and the kids

Tomorrow it will be nine weeks from the IM.  I’ll be home on Thursday morning and probably jet lagged, but the plan is to be on the bike each morning and swimming each lunch time.  I’ll also try a little run with Gene of an evening. Then I’m off again to Vancouver on the 10^th Oct ( I have a week at home) and from there to Florida for meetings, so eight weeks and seven weeks before Busso I’ll be away in North America again which will not help the training at all. I’m back in town on Saturday 22^nd Oct which is exactly 6 weeks out from the IM, so I’ll not be tapering like most others.  I’ll look to have a 1 week taper rather a longer one and see how we go.   

Following our meetings in Zurich it looks like we’ll end up working in China and I’ve told the client we can’t be there until after the IM on 4^th December. As it turns out our client contact is an ex-USA Navy Seal who is super fit and likes the idea of anyone doing an IM.  He lives in Arizona where he says loads of people come to train for triathlons.  And it was it was he who let me know where the pool in Zurich was.  So I’m safe until after Busso – if I’m still able to walk . . .

Back to Aus and the NZ Rugby World Cup where the Irish are awaiting elimination and the Wallabies are awaiting glory. 

Gabrielle's birthday

 Last Wednesday the 18^th August was Gabrielle’s birthday.  She was born on this date in 1994 sometime in the middle of the night. I can never remember the time of the day the kids were born, and Gabrielle was no different, except to say that it was usually late at night.

 She was 6½ yrs old when she died and if she was alive today she’d be 17yrs old. The thing about Gabrielle is that for us she’ll always be little. And for some reason I remember her birth much more clearly than the births of our other kids, though I’m sure that’s different for Gene. 

This short post is simply to remind the world that Gabrielle is in our thoughts and feelings. Death is for all of us at some stage but for her it came very early in life.  She was a source of unbelievable love and attachment so you can imagine when she died how it broke our hearts.  I’ve learnt how important it is to know that we’re here physically.  A big, big part of what grief is about, for me at least, is not being able to hold her and give her a cuddle. Or not being able to have a chuckle with her as she had this fantastic, infectious laugh. Or never being able to call her name again. And she was a beautiful kid to look at with big eyes, long legs and wonderfully soft hair.  We’ve still got some of her dresses hanging in my side of the wardrobe and we hung on to her wheelchair for some years before giving it to one of her classmates at the school who needed an upgrade.

Home from school

When she died it was like being hit by a freight train. The lack of Gabrielle was almost instantly obvious and hard to fathom. She had her place at home, in every room, in the car, in her high-chair, in our favourite restaurants, at her school, out in the backyard and all over Bondi where she was well known by the shop keepers and local.

And then time moves along and you realise she’ll never ever be back and things become almost unbearable.  In your heart you just can’t cope with the overwhelming enormity of her not being there.  Death is tough on everyone and I suspect your little one dying is as tough as it gets in life.  I never want to experience anything like it again. The other day I was chatting to a mate who wasn’t yet a parent, trying to explain how much love you have for your kids and I explained it thus:  think of how much you love the person you’re in love with: the most important, closest, most intimate person in your life. Now multiply that a thousand times. That’s how much you love your kids. Then imagine that person dies.  Imagine that person is gone forever, not just from your home but never, ever to return. It’s as tough as life can be.  There’s no-one and nothing that who can console you.  

So Gabrielle died unexpectedly a couple days after Xmas in the year 2000 and now we’ve learnt to live with that. We celebrate her birthday every year with a cake and a glass of champagne. It’s best described as there being a permanent bit of sadness in your being. Her death aside, she was a joy to behold in every possible way and the thing that really makes me sad is that there are people I now know and care for who never got to know her.  They would have been blown away by her, just as we were. 

What is lovely currently is that there are some new babies in the neighbourhood so being able to hold and cuddle them is easy and wonderful.  Everyone gets such joy from new babies and toddlers. It takes us out of ourselves and away from the tensions of adult life and we all just stare. 

I wish Gabrielle was still here . . .  

Training

It's Sunday evening at the end of a great weekend.  We're three weeks back from a trip to Europe for work and relaxation which was a real treat. If you've never been to Budapest and the opportunity arises, don't miss it. We enjoyed the travel, got to see Jade and Bala and came home feeling refreshed (jet-lag aside)

My IM training has been less than perfect. I've been back into it for the last two weeks, but travel is not conducive to IM training. In September I'm off again to England (London and Preston - up near Manchester) then to Switzerland (Zurich) then back home for a week and off to Canada (Vancouver) and the USA (Florida). I won't be taking my bike so I'm hoping for reasonably good gyms in the hotels and 50 meter pools (unlikely).  That aside I'm back into the swimming and riding having been out early most mornings for a ride and squeezing in a swim most days.  The running is still slow until I get to see the specialists about taping up the knee which feels fine, but I'm reluctant to push it.

So there's now only 15 weeks to the IM in Busso.  It's going to be full-on with work being super busy and Gene and the family being ever supportive. Every spare moment until the 4th December when the big event takes place seems to have been booked.  The count-down begins.

Men and alcohol: a revised posting

If you happened to read this blog previously you’ll perhaps remember a similar piece on blokes and getting drunk and the way we can then interact with women. I’ve been given some well placed feedback by some trusted friends on that effort and was reminded of the sanctity of private conversations and my tendency to take what is said, colour it with my interpretation, and then blog it to the world; a recipe for lowering the level of trust if ever there was. Whilst I had people in mind when I wrote that piece, I had no right to forge ahead without giving them the chance to edit the words, as none of us takes away exactly the same sentiment from our conversations. So my apologies for offending them and for offending anyone who happened to read the post. The revised version follows.   

I just read Christopher Hitchens’ latest piece in Vanity Fair.  Hitch must be in his late 50s (my age) and has been living with cancer for close to 12 months.  He’s chronicling the cancer and I always make it the first article I read when VF arrives in the mail, curious to see how he’s doing. I love the way he writes, though not always what he has to say. Currently he’s losing his voice. For a man who talks as well as writes for a living that has to be difficult. He got me in when he asked me if I’ve ever played the game, or just asked the question of my friends “Which would you rather lose; your sight or your hearing (if you had a choice)”. And most of us reply that we’d rather lose our hearing.  But we never offer the choice ‘Which would you rather lose; your hearing or your voice?”  Hitch describes what it’s like to lose the ability to talk. To not be able to engage in conversation with others. To be only able to listen. It might not be a bad thing for me (occasionally) to be unable to talk, as I know I often have way too much to say, and can often value what I have to say over others.  Not very considerate or thoughtful.  And I never learn anything new when I open my mouth.  So Hitch laments not being able to talk as he once did and writes about remembered conversations that seemed a sin to break off.  I’ve had many of those as I’m sure you have too.  And to cement the point (reminding us that he is in a year of what he refers to as living dyingly) he gives us this beautiful quote from the Greek Callimachus talking of his good mate Heraclitus on hearing that Heraclitus was dead.  It goes:

They told me, Heraclitus; they told me you were dead.

They brought me bitter news to hear, and bitter tears to shed.

I wept when I remembered

How often you and I

Had tired the sun when talking

And sent him down the sky

Those long dialogues we have with each other when we’re in the mood to engage are always the best and Hitch's article reminded me of a conversation I had with some friends this week.  We’d just finished watching an advanced copy of the Michael Rymer film Face to Face, and we found ourselves having one of those conversations that Christopher Hitchens now finds himself unable to have.  The conversation was about alcohol, the amount of alcohol we consume and the effects it can have on us, with particular reference to us as men. We were trying to fathom why it is that we can be as hard as nails physically; jump up while it’s still dark, head out for long rides, push and challenge each other to within a heartbeat of our capacity, and work long hours under intense pressure.  And yet we generally will not, for love nor money, tell someone like a mate that his getting drunk is just not a cool thing to do. That probably means we think it’s OK. And maybe it is.

Alcohol is an important part or how we relax and have fun with each other. Yet after many years of being with mates who drink, I’m still at a lose to figure out the attraction of actually getting drunk. What is it in us that we will set out to drink enough to get drunk, knowing that we’ll probably feel like crap the following day?  Perhaps it’s more about the stories we can then exchange, as it’s not that unusual for us to laud a mate who gets pissed, and hold him in good stead for his alcohol tolerance, as if it’s something to be respected. In some sense I think we do respect someone’s capacity to ‘hold their grog’. To drink way past what we know is good for us, and still be coherent enough to carry on a conversation. And still be tough enough to jump up the next day and display no ill effects of the previous night’s drinking.

For me I’ve always thought of getting drunk as a disagreeable activity.  Not drinking as such. Not sharing a beer with friends. Not having a wine with dinner or drinks after work at the end of the week. They’re more than agreeable. What’s disagreeable, at least for me, is when we keep drinking knowing that we’ll soon be pissed or when we let others keep drinking, knowing they’ll soon be pissed. I am unequivocally ambivalent towards alcohol. Yet I know my intolerance of drunks is judgmental and unhelpful. The vast majority of us who get drunk do no one any harm, lest of all ourselves (beyond a possible headache the next day). We can be more entertaining when we’re on the way to getting drunk.  We can loosen up. We can relax. We can have fun. And we can create stories that do the rounds and can be hilarious when we retold by a good story-teller. Drinking and getting drunk under those circumstances can be harmless at worst and great fun at best.

So much however seems to depends on who it is that is getting drunk. There are some of us who probably should never be let near alcohol as it only brings out the worst in us.  We become offensive, aggressive, unpredictable, messy and dangerous.  Yet for others it makes us even more agreeable than we already were. The picture is not, as is so often the case, a simple one. I find myself thinking it is a simple, clear issue, available for judgement by yours truly. Wrong again! For many years I've privately thought less of people who regularly get drunk. Am I alone in thinking this or do you feel the same? 

I'm classified as a non-drinker as I've never actually been drunk myself. I've not enjoyed being around drunk people.Yet my intolerance lacks generosity and closes me off to the upside of the opposite experience. Getting drunk is a part of what many of us do. I've never been comfortable with it so I'd be genuinely keen to hear arguments in it's favour (as I can mount many in favour of the opposing point of view).

To be engaged therefore in a conversation which was attempting to understand our relationship with alcohol, in particular our relationship with alcohol as men, was unusual, interesting and stimulating. Much was talked about in attempting to make sense of the topic and it was agreed that much more could be said by men to men, when we're uncomfortable with what is happening. And this was what the conversation was really about, for me at least: why is it that we don't talk to each other about stuff that makes us uncomfortable? My answer is that to let someone know you are uncomfortable with what was said or done can easily create conflict if not approached respectfully and with care. We are a political species with a finely tuned appreciation of what can be said, to whom, in what context and when. That leads to our wonderful tolerance of each others behaviuor, the many missed opportunities to engage in conversation to understand each other more, and our ambivalence towards both.

My political antennae definitely let me down in the former version of this post. My friends alerted me to this, much as Gene often does. Imagine if they'd chosen not to tell me, but rather to talk about it amongst themselves and leave me ignorant of their feelings. As with Hitch’s ancient friends, while the original conversation and subsequent feedback have both come to an end, the thoughts that went with them have stayed with me. 

Let me know your thoughts.

Running, riding, parking and

It's now a week since the girls ran the Gold Coast Marathon. And what a marathon it was. Their training was interrupted by bouts of the flu, end of term work demands and winter. They were a touch under-cooked.

This photo was taken before the pain began and they're both looking ready to roll

Gene ran a good race which wasn't a PB, but was much better than we anticipated. She came home in 4hrs 29mins.  It was a super effort after too little training and we're pretty happy with the result.  There's a fair chance she'll do it again next year (or maybe sooner) with the so far elusive goal of 4hrs 15min to attain.  Ange found the going even tougher, having been sick for the previous 2 weeks. She was considering dropping out at the 21km mark but found Enda, who paced her for the second half of the run. Again it wasn't a PB but was a brilliant effort and they both felt relief (and a few other emotions as well) at having gone the distance.  42kms is a hell of a long way to run and one of life's great achievements.
 

Running 42km - ouch

This is how they looked after 42kms while being given a little therapy by Enda.

#2688 needed a push to get to the plane

 They were joined in the running by Enda who ran the Half in 77mins. He was aiming for 75mins as a PB but didn't have the legs on the day.

Enda, looking a little too relaxed pre-race

Connor Mac also did the Full in 3hrs 9mins which was a PB and another brilliant effort.  I think Simon was a DNF at the 30km mark with a crook shoulder, but the surprise of the day was Ange's cousin, Laura, who ran her first Half Marathon in an amazing 2hrs 9mins, making her the star performer of the weekend.

Laura is here together with Gene & Ange as the three of them show off their medals.

It was a fun few days, topped off by the traditional steak meal at Moo Moos, which by the vote of marathon runners is the best steak restaurant in the country. 


I did the driving, not yet being ready to do a marathon as the knee continues to recover. As I was working in Brisbane during the week I hired a van to get about, then held on to it for the weekend.  On Thursday I was attempting to park the van in the client's car park in a fairly tight spot. To my delight the woman who owned the car next to where I was parking stopped to guide me safely in. I slowly edged forward following her instructions (yes, yes, you're fine, more, yes, OK, no worries, a little more).  It was all going well.  Then she calls out: You Hit My Car! I didn't feel a thing, but sure enough there was a large dent in the van where I'd hit her car.  FMD! Amazing. She was one of the scientists in a lab there and I can only hope her powers of observation are a little more acute once she clocks on.

Back in Bondi I managed three early morning rides during the week and then did a 100km ride this morning, leaving home at 5am on what turned out to be a beautiful but freezing day. I froze the whole way and didn't warm up until I hit the hot shower back at home. I then met the girls for coffee and breakfast at the beach (they did their first run since the Marathon) and then had a second breakfast back at home. Tomorrow will be a swim day.

So IM training aside I've been working and then hanging out with Gene all week which has been great. She's on a two week term break from work which is always deserved.

The driver and the marathon runner

I read two pieces on teachers this week: one was a short quote by Henry Adams which goes - A teacher affects eternity; she can never tell where her influence stops, which I wholeheartedly agree with and the other was by A C Grayling who said: Part of the problem facing teaching in the contemporary world is that its status as a profession has been undermined by the contemptible view that only what makes money is admirable.  When people lose sight of the invisible rewards on offer in different avocations, many kinds of work that make the world a better place suffer a loss of talent . . .  the danger is that good minds and hearts will be lost to honourable vocations, and people will jostle instead to be employed where pay-packets are largest and effort least. I like the way he writes. and I usually like what he has to say.  Little gems happen on a daily basis in schools, most of it completely unnoticed by the world at large. Her school will turn out its fair share of security guards, workers, business people, professionals and parents, and most of them will be all the better for having attended St Joseph's at Belmore. It's a good gig.