Taking the M45-49 silver in the
at the Aussie champs represents somewhat of a culmination of many years of hard
work and discovery and a touch of frustration and despair along the way. This
will probably read like the war and peace of race reports as I reflect back on
what it has taken to turn a broken distance runner into a half decent
triathlete.
I’ve always been a pretty quick
runner by most standards, having got down in the low 30s for 10km in my prime. Having
some favourable genes obviously helps, but I trained hard and somewhat brutally
at times in my 20s to achieve the fast times. Unfortunately I lost of bit of
top-end capacity through a double spontaneous pneumothorax when I was 34. The
resulting surgery cost me part of my right lung and a bit of function but that
didn’t stop me doing a series of marathons in my mid to late 30s, with my last
one in 2006 at the age of 40 (2:35 at Melbourne). Unfortunately, that marked
the beginning of a range of long-term injuries – for the most part very
hard-to-shake tendinopathies. I also felt I was labouring a lot more. I felt
stiffer and didn’t have the bounciness of youth. I assumed this was a natural
part of ageing. I announced my retirement from competitive running and saw a
psychologist to cope.
I soon found I couldn’t cope
without a physical pursuit to obsess about, so I decided to take up race
walking. That lasted 4 days. I then started dabbling in triathlon in late 2008
leading to three half-ironman finishes (I didn’t realize the common advice was
to start with shorter events). However, just after crossing the finish line in
the 2010 Geelong half-ironman, I felt a twinge above my right knee. That would
mark the beginning of 18 months of suffering through a patellar tendinopathy.
It seemed like it would be a career ending injury.
Then in the spring of 2011, I
decided one day to run barefoot on grass. The experience was exhilarating. I had run barefoot a bit during my teenage
years and occasionally on the beach. But I always resorted to the safety of my
Nikes or Asics before injury might strike. However my unplanned experiment at
the age of 45 would prove to be transformative. Not only did it feel wonderful,
I ran pain free for the first time in years. My knee was happy and I felt
bouncy and my legs felt alive.
I started to read barefoot
testimonies with report after report of people running pain free for the first
time. I read how some actually ran on the road barefoot or even on rocky
trails. This sounded excessive and frankly, a bit nuts. But one day, I tried
running on the bitumen road. It was strangely invigorating and to my surprise,
I found one could actually run in such a way as to make my foot falls soft.
After a few weeks of doing this, the experience of running barefoot on the road
became, literally, quite sensuous. It was like having the most exquisite of
foot massages. I sought out the rougher roads and the experience was right on
the borderline of pleasure and pain but I sought out the feeling with an
addictive streak. Running felt good. Every time I ran barefoot, it felt good –
no pain and legs that felt alive. Running with shoes back on just didn’t feel
right. I progressed to the point where I ran 10km on a harsh gravel trail
barefoot – a trail I could barely stand on without shoes a few months prior.
There was something strangely raw, primordial, and primitive about the
experience.
2012 was all about enjoying
running pain free again, strengthening my feet and becoming aware of biomechanical
issues that had given rise to my injury spate. I was riding as well, but I did
nothing structured. A Saturday meander with a hard bit somewhere comprised my
program. I actually didn’t really enjoy riding, given my experience on a bike
was always one of discomfort. They just don’t have my long legs (96cm inseam)
and short torsos in mind when they design bikes.
Then in October 2013, my wife
gave me permission to go out and buy a fast bike. I was nervous given my odd
proportions so I decided to do it properly and get a pre-purchase bike fitting
done. I picked Ryan Williams at 3D Bike Fit in Sydney (http://3dbikefit.com.au/)
who has the Retul and Muve equipment. I would highly recommend this. Ryan was
able to tell me that the large Specialized Shiv would be one of the few bikes
that could be configured to fit me. With that knowledge, I took the plunge and
loosened the purse strings. After another session with Ryan I had myself a fast
bike that was actually comfortable for me and where in theory, I was in a position
that could generate power. The only trouble there was no power coming from my matchstick
legs.
Around the same time I was
listening to a podcast where Jeff Booher, the founder of TriDot, was being
interviewed. Jeff has come up with a data driven approach to triathlon training
where he claims he has captured data from thousands of training cycles from
many athletes. The system he then developed aims to provide “optimal” training
based on your physical attributes, event goals and time constraints. With an
offer of free training, I thought I’d give it a try despite a degree of
scepticism.
Not surprisingly, the training
focused on my cycling. After an initial 15-mile time trial where I averaged a
measly 32 km/h, the long path towards knocking Guy off his cycling throne began.
Most of the work was threshold based with a dabbling of pure power development.
Week after week, I could see my speed improving, eventually hitting the magical
40 km/h average over a long effort. Interestingly, while I felt the running
training to be a bit soft, the evidence suggested I was actually in pretty good
shape (an easy 17:24 solo 5km time trial on a steamy Sunshine Coast track just
before Christmas). Interestingly, given my strong swimming background, this
component was heavily deemphasized with a lot of the water-based work replaced
with land-based cord work.
Whilst improving as a
triathlete, perhaps my results in the “B races” across the summer weren’t fully
showing the gains. Every race was characterized by mistakes and issues –
putting the helmet on backwards, bulging tyres, wrong turns, bike mounting
stuff ups, water bottles falling off, hydration systems failing. But my A race
was coming, the 2014 Australian Sprint Championships and I knew my form was
good coming in. I have a certain feel when I’m fit and that feeling was strong.
The sprint champs were going to be awesome and the podium was my destiny!
Once the event details were
published on the web, I meditated on the transition area. I visualized myself
doing all those things necessary to fast transitions – ripping off the wetsuit,
clean mounts and dismounts, slipping on the running shoes in one move. I looked
at the waves and noticed the M45-49 group was last and the wave-offset times
were relative to the elites who started first. A fresh set of offset times were
published the day before which I casually glanced over.
Race day came and I was set: fast
bike, optimal bike fit, fast wheels (Guy lent me his 80+ mm deep rimmed front
wheel), fast tyres, latex tubes, aero helmet, 4 months of hard injury free,
optimized training and shaved legs. I was going to fly. But having done most of
my training in sweltering conditions, Melbourne provided a day it is renowned
for – squally rain bursts, gusty winds, and very rough water in the bay.
I watched some of the early
waves go off and a number of people retired after just a few strokes, either
being unable to punch through the break or not desiring to risk their lives in
the dark, foreboding water. But my wave had a 1:13 offset and I decided to go
away to focus my efforts and not burn up too much nervous energy. I had one
last look at transition and visualized myself tearing through there with the
leaders in an hour or so.
The time came to don my wetsuit
and it provided some relief against the cold morning air. I dropped my bag off
at the compound and wandered over with what I thought was about 15 minutes
before my start.
What was to greet me was to
haunt me for some time - an empty beach! Where was everyone? Perhaps they were
seeking shelter from the cold I thought vainly. An official appeared. “Hey
mate, it looks like you’ve missed your wave.” “What!?” I howled. “I’m in the 23rd
wave, it’s not due to go off for another 15 minutes!” “No mate…you can still do
the course…off you go…time yourself…hey I’ll time you!” It was the stuff of nightmares. What had not
entered my head was that the wave offsets were actually relative to the elites
and my calculations were out by 25 minutes! I had saved the stuff-up of the
season (my career?) for the race that mattered most.
After a few more disbelieving
howls, I obediently ran down into what felt like the abyss. I got to waist deep
and then dived, flailing my arms wildly. Crash came the first wave and off came
my goggles. Crash came waves two, three and four and my lungs took in water. I
was genuinely in trouble and I knew all the safety watercraft had no idea I was
even out there. I struggled to regain composure and get into a right mind for
swimming in treacherous conditions. I purposely went to a straight-arm recovery
and made my stroke short and choppy. I tried to adjust my breathing to avoid
coinciding with the regular poundings.
It was very difficult to make
headway initially but to my relief the first turn buoy was getting close…and so
was a rescue craft! I swam across the swell for a short section before heading
back in. Sighting was next to impossible but I knew a large blue boat shed was
close enough to where I had to get to. I could only get a glimpse of that on
every 4th attempt or so to sight. I actually stopped at one stage to
get one good sighting. After that, I went bodysurfing. From about 200m out I
repeatedly sprinted to be carried a bit by each wave before genuinely catching
one into the shore. I actually caught a few of the stragglers in the water at
the end before touching down on the beach.
It was a long run to the
compound and I cruised through to my bike. Things went well and the helmet even
went on the right way. I started running with the bike and next thing my helmet
visor is hanging off by one screw. It appeared someone had knocked off my
helmet in transition and broken the visor. After a couple more anguished cries,
I ripped the visor completely off and made it to the mount point. That went
well and off I went. I came up to speed and then suddenly a big gust of wind
put a shudder through the front wheel and I nearly came off. With my confidence
shaken, I sat up before I was again nearly knocked over with the wind finding
its way through the tea trees between the beach and the road. From that point,
I sat up pretty much the whole way. Even then, a number of times I slowed right
down in order to stay upright. Clearly there was a reason why I was one of a
small number of riders who had a deep rim on the front. I felt very strong
though but was too nervous to push hard.
I managed to avoid embracing
the bitumen and made it to T2. I messed up my timing and ended up having to run
with my cycling shoes on. After that everything went well and the running shoes
were on. Finally I could hammer it without fearing for my life.
Running fast when you are fit
and when it is an on day is a magical experience. Despite the despair of the
day, I got to feel that feeling which I have sought for over 30 years. I was
moving fast (3:27 pace) in the gusty cross/tail wind and there were more gears.
For the moment, things seemed right in the universe. I hit the turn point and
the way back had a number of turns and it was starting to be very congested. Over
the last 800m the course narrowed and I got repeatedly blocked causing my pace
to drop.
I crossed the line and felt I could do it all again. By the
time, I reached the bag compound, the realization that my big dream was in
tatters hit me. I cried. The misty eyes didn’t clear until I reached Albury on
the drive back. I thought about where redemption might lie. I absolutely buried
myself in a bike time-trial on the Tuesday.
….
A year goes past pretty quickly.
The sprint championships again
were my A-race for the summer, this time with a 2015 in the title. The past
year had been characterised by further improvements on the bike through a focus
on the duathlon and pretty much an injury free run apart from rib damage just
after Christmas through a water skiing accident. I took 6 months off swimming
but did some good weights work through the winter. Significantly, with the
discovery of TrainerRoad (a power based indoor trainer package), my cycling
power has escalated considerably in recent months.
Race morning dawned clear and
calm, a stark contrast to the day 12 months ago. I got to the race site very
early and compulsively checked the wave times a number of times. A final
nervous wee and it was time to zip into my new 2XU compression trisuit and Zone
3 wetsuit. Another check of the wave times located on the beach and I was off
for a warm up swim. I swam out a fair way and stopped when I realized I was
well beyond anyone else apart from a stingray that swam below me. I started my
way back in and then glanced a few light blue caps (my colour) milling around in
the water near the start. Thinking I had miscalculated things, I sprinted back
to the beach only to realize the competitors I had spotted had blue cap, black
writing not blue cap, white writing (mine). I hovered around the start line for
15 minutes just in case!
The hooter sounded for the
beach start and I bolted into the water down the right side and porpoised my
way to the lead. Soon I had one guy on my left hips who was annoyingly
interfering with my stroke. I held a fist for a few strokes trying to clock him
but I then decided I’d drop back and sit on him. This worked well and I got a
very nice ride but soon I noticed a fast pack breaking away on the left side.
It was decision time – do I surge across to them? I decided to maintain my
position, conserve energy and come home hard. In retrospect, this may not have
been the best choice. In the last 300m we were swimming straight into the sun
and coming over the top of stragglers from the wave in front. It was very
difficult to swim hard with rhythm.
I came out the water in 5th
place a few seconds down. As promised, the Zone 3 wetsuit came off with ease
and I had my cleanest T1 ever. Despite that, Rob Raulings got past me with a
flying mount and the “fishboy” sailed on ahead in his super aero position. I
looked down early at my Garmin and my HR was in the mid 150s – very high for me
on the bike. I have discovered that I perform best if I ride within myself for
the first few minutes, even in a sprint race. That certainly was what it felt
like but my heart disagreed. After a few kms a mega fauna specimen (MFS) came
past me with thighs the size of my waist and it was time to increase the effort
and pace off him. I felt very strong and every time the MFS got out to 30m
through the congestion (it was a huge field with very crowded roads), I was
able to find the power to get back to the 10m range. I was averaging just over
40 km/h and in the final 5km I thought I’d show MFS what skinny runner’s legs
can do and I went past him. I was sitting on about 43, but MFS clearly was not
happy and he quickly roared past as I coasted for a moment to avoid crashing
into the back of a big pack. From there, I decided to calm things down, have a
swig of water, and prepare for the run. I pondered whether MFS would be able to
canter faster than 5 min/kms once he had lost his wheels.
T2 came and it was another
clean effort apart from getting slowed in the chute by some slower athletes (I
got past MFS at the dismount. He could still be in his impact crater). My legs
felt OK initially and my first look down at the GPS showed I was travelling at
3:38 pace. I was hoping to run around 3:30 pace and I thought I’d have to wait
to truly get my running legs. It turned out to be a hard run. It was hot and
the ride had taken the sting out of my legs. I soon picked up Rob Raulings who
clearly had wiped himself out on the bike. I picked up a couple of others
before catching up to 2nd. He put up a bit of resistance and I
thought I might have to prepare myself for a sprint at the end but a surge
around a corner had him broken. From there it was a matter of weaving my way
through the traffic over the last 1500m or so. Into the finishing chute and I
tried to make a pretty face for the camera. That didn’t work.
The winner of the championship
was Jeremy Critchett and he put over 2 minutes on me. I don’t know his
background, but he must be some athlete. Third was about 50 seconds back. In a
way I’m glad I didn’t win or even come close to winning. Mr Critchett’s
performance was clearly on another level and provides a focus for the next
level if I want to take it up.
Sunday’s result is a satisfying
one because it represents for me a triumph over what has been a challenging
athletic decade. Now I’m going to get faster!
