I know that those of you with short attention spans find my race reports too verbose. Just leave now! I have to set the context, for without it my story has little substance. By 2003 I had raced five full distance triathlons, and I had only managed to break 16 hours once, and in my last attempt I finished in 16:51, with less than 10 minutes to spare. Worryingly, the conditions that year were the best I had ever raced in, and my race was executed almost perfectly. It was as fast as I could go; I knew something had to change if I was do any more races under 17 hours, as I was only going to slow further as I grew older. I put a plan in place and trained though the year and showed up for the December 2003 Hooksie Half in Taupo, my first ever half-distance race. I had a dream race finishing in 5:52; the tears streamed down my face as I ran the last two kilos. I knew then that my 20 year tri career was not over, as I had found what I needed. I also felt I had raced as well as I might ever do. And I was pleased. Some days are diamond. In December 2005 at the same event, under ideal conditions with no wind and a warm rain, I chased hard for a sub 5:30, finishing in 5:31. It was one of those days when everything went perfectly, and I was astounded by my time. In the eight years since then I had come to accept that this was my best effort over any distance, and that I was never going to beat it. Especially now that I was eight years older and more than a tickle past 50. A lifetime PB at 44 is not unreasonable even if you have been racing since 20, but going beyond that after age 50 and 30 years in the game seemed to be a rather unreasonable expectation. I entered Challenge Forster, simply to do another race, and to have a good time, not race a fast one. And of course there are always the points for the Challenge Family League. Forster is the home of the original Ironman in Australia, harking back to the days when real iron men and women raced, at the front and through the field. They were the days of speedos and singlets, home made tribars, no wetsuits, steel frame bikes with 28 spoke wheels, and very little of the advanced training techniques we have today. Some of you will have read my funny story about accommodation in Forster, and how I was rescued by good racing mate Jonathan O. He and I are survivors of all seven Challenge Wanaka races, a fact of which we are both very proud. We were joined by Jonathan S, so Sally had her hands full tending to three athletes. I’ll refer to the Jonathans as Ozzie and Syko to prevent confusion. Syko was doing his first half, despite having lined up at forty-mumble full distance races. He has had a hard time of late with a few racing-related medical and nutritional issues and felt a half was just the medicine he needed to get his confidence back. Besides if he didn’t race I would have overtaken him in the Challenge League. And neither of us wanted that. OK, I lie, it was just him that didn’t want it. And Ozzie was always going to race, how could he not, as he lived there. He doesn’t train very much but always beats the two of us at Wanaka. But this was a different distance, and the half is my natural distance. And Syko was primed after 6 weeks of hard training during a break from the mines. I knew the course would be fast, provided the weather played ball. The day before the wind was gusting 30 knots and things did not look good. The half started at 1pm - great for a non-morning person like me, and by 12 noon there was not a breath of wind as we prepared for the start under a high cloud. It could not be better. The swim is in the salty (i.e. faster) Forster Keys where there is no tide and it is very protected. Still I did not expect a sub 30 minute swim time. The best I have ever done is around 35 minutes and I knew I was currently at least a couple of minutes off my best swimming times in the pool. Clearly the course was short, and judging by the times of others and those that use GPS measuring, around 200-300metres short, or in my case three and a half to five minutes, and I have to say a blight on the race. I expect a lot more when I pay good money to race, and I hold Challenge organisers to a high standard. This sort of thing is not acceptable. Neverthless, there was nothing to be done about it. After an uncomplicated transition, I prepared to set off on the bike, with the conditions still well nigh perfect. Conditions, I might add are as important as training, or having a good day, when it comes to seeking fast times. Ozzie was leaving T1 as I entered it, and similarly Syko followed me in as I was on my way out. I chased Ozzie for the first 10km, all the while being able to see him, and snuck passed him at the aid station when he slowed to take on a drink. Funnily, he did not see me, and eventually assumed I had quit, only to eventually find me ahead of him on the run. There were a few turns, but for the most part the course was flat and very fast, with at least a third of it on smooth hot mix, another third being relatively smooth, and the last bit bumpy, as I am used to. I managed to average around 33kph for nearly two hours, but as I headed for the last turn I was hit by a strong squally headwind and buckets of rain which slowed my pace to around 25kph. Fortunately I only had to endure this for about 20 minutes, when I turned and had it behind me. The wind subsequently weakened but I was still able to push for home with a breeze from behind. By this time Syko had flown passed me. He’s never done that before, and I was really pleased for him. I rode 2:47 for the bike course - also an incorrect distance - by all accounts around 92 or 93km. While this kind of balanced the short swim, time wise, it is extremely unsatisfactory - there is no reason for this kind of stuff up. I caught Syko at T2: he’s not famous for his speed in transition. Nor for his modesty it seems for there were no changing tents, but that did not worry him! We ran together for the first 3km, him resplendent in green, including hat and shoes (as is his bike, and all bike gear), and me in pink. We must have been quite a sight judging by the comments we got! I started my run at 3:22, so I knew all I needed was a run split of around 2 hours and I would have a PB. But that was going to be a very tall order. I had been limping quite a bit since returning from my European escapade where I had raced nearly 400km of triathlon in 15 days, coupled with five weeks of traveling and sight seeing. There had been days where walking was hard. Since then, I had done a few 5km runs and only one longer one of 10km. Before heading for Europe when I had done more running training I only managed a 1:56 half marathon from a fresh start, so to go around 2 hours after hammering on the bike was going to be tough. But I surely was going to give it everything I had, as I suspected this chance to finally go sub 5:30 may never come around again. At 3km though, disaster struck as I was almost leveled by cramp, front and back in my left thigh. Fortunately it happened 20 metres before an aid station and they had some ice on hand. It’s the only thing I have found that helps. Such was my agony, that for the second time in as many half distance races I was asked if I needed an ambulance! “It’s just my leg”, I said. I lost about 3 minutes before I could walk and a few more before I could run again. This meant I was going to have run even faster than anticipated to get that PB and my target of under 5:30. While there were no distance markers in the course (another shortcoming) the race consisted of 3 laps so I was able to calculate my change in speed and work out what I needed to do to get in under 5:30. It was going to be close, and I pushed hard every step of the way. Syko was pulling further ahead every kilo, with Ozzie hanging in behind in a reversal of our usual positions. And Sally was yelling from the sidelines, mostly huddled under an umbrella as the rains pelted down. Fortunately it seems the run course was about the right distance - I checked it afterwards using online mapping and it was at least 21km, possibly a few hundred metres more as I could not ascertain the exact turning position on the map. The last two kilos hurt like crazy, but for me the reward would be worth it. I finished in a shade under 5:29. Mission accomplished. The next 5 minutes were awful: I nearly didn’t make it to the recovery tent for fear of fainting, but once I had sat for a while and put some warm clothes on thanks to a few loans, I felt a lot better. And that is the story of my race. Despite my complaints around the organisation, I will definitely be back. Forster is a fantastic location, and I’ll cut the organisers some slack: it wasn’t their first event, but was their first under the Challenge banner, and perhaps they needed a year to get their act up to the exacting standard I have come to expect of *all* Challenge races. This was my 12th Challenge event, keeping me in around 50th position out of 60,000 athletes in the league. It also marks the first time I have chalked up more than 1000 triathlon race kilos in a calendar year, and makes me the only person to complete all Challenge races ever held in the Southern Hemisphere.
Posted on: Tue, 26 Nov 2013 08:34:33 +0000
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