Just the facts son

17 week preparation

Ave weekly swim distance 4.4km  

Ave weekly bike distance 253.2km

Ave Weekly run distance 11.6km

Starting weight 84.4kg

Current weight 78.2

Weight loss 6.2kg   7.3% of total body mass

Will it be enough? Almost certainly not, but then again enough is almost always n+1, so it'll do.


 

Time for a Prediction

The last of the BIG weekends now locked away. Two weeks to go now. All that really needs to be avoided is snotty nosed kids, sneezing co-workers and overindulgence.

A lot of guys suggesting that this is the finish of the “serious bit” of the training block – though I must admit to not having felt like this was a particularly “serious” preparation (completely structureless due to injuries etc) – something that I am quite sure I’ll come to regret 12 days. The upside is that I am carrying virtually no residual fatigue and can probably shorten the traditional two weeks taper to 7 days.

Wiseman’s Ferry ride (yesterday) is a VERY pleasant way to spend a few hours. It includes a fairly gentle climb for 15 or so km starting at Riverside Oaks golf course, and then a steep descent down to the ferry. Thereafter the road hugs the river and snakes it’s way back to the Lower Portland car ferry (Long Punt). Cliffs on the left, river on the right, and bugger all cars for what feels like about 15km or so. Then it’s over the punt to a small but testing enough 4%ish / 2km climb and a long 12km ish tt’able scoot back towards Wilborforce. Again, very low traffic and a decent enough road surface for even the most poorly sighted biker.

Will definitely do it again soon, but more as a gran fondo than a training ride. Would much prefer it on a roadie than a TT bike also, and would probably include a scurry across East Kurrajong Rd for coffee and morning tea at Kurrajong village. Perfect preparation for a cyclo-jaunt next year.

Swam 49:57 for 3k in the pool in a wet-suit on Friday. Huge confidence giver – 5 minutes better than I was expecting. I had been aiming for an IM swim of 1:12, but realistically would now be disappointed with anything worse than 1:10.

To Do:

Ø  Still some time left to tidy up the swim a bit more, as I’m still very much on the steep part of the learning curve, and recovery is short on even the hardest of swim sessions.

Ø  Will have a balls-out 50k tt on Wednesday to try and put a nice confidence-lock my biking.

Ø  Will try to get in a couple of 5km downhill shuffles to prepare the hips and quads for what is going to be a freakin’ painful, and painfully slow, end to the day on the 6^th.

Time for a prediction? Will happily take anything under 13hrs, but here goes:

	Best Possible	Goal	Disappointing	Will be a very quiet drive home in the car	Fuck I'm lost – send for help
Swim	01:05:00	01:07:30	01:12:00	01:15:00	>>
T1	00:04:30	00:05:30	00:06:30	00:07:30	>>
Exit T1	01:09:30	01:13:00	01:18:30	01:22:30	>>
Bike	05:32:00	05:43:00	05:55:00	06:10:00	>>
	(32.5)	(31.5)	(30.5)		>>
T2	00:03:00	00:04:00	00:05:00	00:06:00	>>
Exit T2	06:44:30	07:00:00	07:18:30	07:38:30	>>
Run	04:45:00	05:37:00	06:15:00	06:30:00	>>
	(6:46 - 85% @ 6:15)	(8:00)	(8:52)
	11:29:30	12:37:00	13:33:30	14:08:30	>>

Still chuggin towards the finishing shute.

W

Loving the morning shuffle

Very quiet heading out the door at the moment. Shuffled out this morning right as the 6AM horn from the quarries blew to signal game-on. Sound carries a long way at that hour. Have always loved the early morning run - even though my legs have always hated it and often protested by breaking.

Interesting just how many people are out there at this time of year - IM, and the Sydney Half both just around the corner. A raised eyebrow across the road, a quick thumbs-up or a nod as you pass. The most miniscule of movements are sufficient to register a silent mutual support for making the effort to get up and “do it”. If you pass in the shopping centre in the middle of the day, the same folk wouldn’t spit on you if you were on fire. Go figure!

7.2 successfully shuffled.

And tried to hear your voice, but all I heard
Was a boat's whistle, and the scraping squeal
Of seabird's voices far away, and bells,
Five bells. Five bells coldly ringing out.
Five bells.

Near perfect training week

T-19. All-things-achilles considered, and including last week's Jindi camp, this has been close enough to a perfect week of prep given where I was a week and half ago.

Weighed in at 78.8kg today. Haven’t been under 78 since I was about 33yo, so near enough 14 years. A couple of weeks to shave off another 1kg would be about perfect as I don’t want to be losing weight during the taper.

FRI

2 x 1k in the suit – both legs around 17:24. Smoking. The last few months has seen me move up two distinct grades as a swimmer. "Splashing Panicked Gumby" to "hopeless", and now a further graduation to "bad". Another two weeks of work could see me at "ordinary" by race day, which would feel like an outstanding achievement in mediocrity.

Long ride on the shared path. Boring as batshit, slow and hot. But steady, aerobic, and didn’t leave any undue fatigue in the legs. Still concerned about staying aero all day, and the Adamo seat may yet get a run.

SAT

Club race 1/30/8. 17:18 (when I stood up) 38.x average speed on the bike beign careful to take no draft-cover at any point, and then a very slow but steady shuffle/run. Got fatigued in the upper quads on the run, but I suspect this only reflects a lack of miles. A couple of injury-free weeks of might see me shuffle-out possbly even half of the run – which would be a huge bonus on where things were a week ago.

SUN

150k Long Punt and Kurrajong AND Hawkesbury. Left me pretty shattered, and still fatigued today, but very very pleased with the effort – super day.

This week will be all about getting some more shuffles in, a few 2-3k swims, and gearing up for a weekend of a couple of long rides.

Saturday Mez and I are doing a Greek Food Safari. Possibly not ideal IM training – lets face there aren’t a lot of baklava munching Greeks at the pointy end of Kona - but a welcome distraction in any case.

Baby Steps

6km at 7:00 per km. 24 days to go. Fingers crossed.

Dorothy, Tinman, Lion and Scarecrow - treading the yellow bricks in Jindi

Jindi weekend a winner on all fronts – three cracking good rides, some good laughs and a restored state of enthusiasm grinding to the IM start line. Even a dose of food poisoning from Ravi’s Curry in a Hurry at Goulbourn on the way home didn’t dull the luster of what was a super weekend.

Leaving Kansas Dorothy didn’t even know Tinman, Lion and Scarcrow, the only thing they shared was a desperate desire to get to Oz. And while Oz held a different promise for each, their journey was common, and in many regards they found more along the Yellow Brick Road than they did in the eternal city.

I don’t remember much about either of my marathons, but I do remember the freezing Tuesday night winter intervals with Gra and Billy, and heading down the Oaks Trail in the dark sans-lights with Gaz on a freezing Saturday morning. I can’t remember much about the North Sydney Gift, but I remember like yesterday vomiting in the ampitheatre at Parra Park during every one of those Saturday hill sessions with AB. I have no idea where my silver medal is from the Masters Hep, but I remember like yesterday JD hoosing the strangest of moments for telling me he was gay - while we were squashed hard into an impossibly small cubical with a team of Parra cheerleaders at Parramatta Park waiting to run onto the ground for the race at half time.

The artifacts you collect along the way are immeasurably more valuable than any prize at the end, because in the end, thousands of people get to collect the same prize. But only those looking out from within the same cloister get to collect and share the same relics as you along the way. They are unique to our journey, and long after the finisher’s medal is lost in a box somewhere in the garage, the memory of sitting on top of Beloka Hill – rooted – will still be clearly preserved, and filed away better than any excavated prehistoric arrow head.

The finishing shute is just Oz, relocated to a convenient beach-side resort town - a shiny light that provides an essential point of focus. The yellow brick road is the real story, and we will keep treading it for another 26 days.

A 30 year man-crush and trannies

Saturday long ride – went much better than the previous week, with a higher calorie intake during the ride proving a winner. Pulled up feeling good also, so a big tick there.

Sunday was Taekwondo grading day for RJ in Winmalee and then I was due to be in Kiama by 2:00, so snuck a ride in from Winmalee to Narellan for an easy 60k and had the family collect me from there along the way.

Awesome day Sunday, and it was extremely pleasant just rolling through - reminds me of why I enjoy cycling in the first place. Not sure why, but I had Hotel California firmly stuck in my head, and pretty much sang it over and over the whole way along Northern Rd, Joe Walsh lead breaks-n-all. My man-crush on Joe has endured 30 years, and I’m thankful that nobody rode up from behind, since by Luddenham I was well warmed up and fairly belting it out.

In 1984 my friend Tripp and I followed the Party Boys to 4 or so (can’t remember precisely) of their Sydney shows. Marc Hunter was in that edition also, and Joe had come out to Oz with Waddy Watchel to join Richard Harvey and a few other “dudes”. Every night Joe would hit the stage, part swagger, part stagger, his eyes rolling around his head like a bebe doll, do the rock-star smoking-gun point to acknowledge the crowd and then launch right into Life in the Fast Lane with freakish precision and set the crowd on fire. It didn’t matter to anyone that his brain was so fried It could have been wheeled around on a yum cha trolley. Miraculously his hands just seemed to be able to navigate the frets with a mind of their own, seemingly as well as they ever did, as if they had been quarantined by an act of God and spared the collateral damage of an extended cocaine addiction. His voice had hilariously less fortunate though, and when he stepped up to the mic to warble a bit of Rocky Mountain Way he suddenly took on the persona of a California beach bum auditioning for Spinal Tap.

At that time Tripp was a male stripper on Girls Night Afloat, and the-now Mrs Jeff was never overly warmed by our association. My recollection is of his picking-up every night of those Party Boys gigs, which was potentially troublesome, because I have never been able to accuse him of being unduly discerning. My favourite was when I slept over at his Nan’s house, and he woke me up one morning ashen faced and in a panic. He had woken up next to a girl (who had looked significantly better the night before), and was suddenly worried she might actually be a bloke. His biggest concern was what Nan might say if she thought he had slept in her house with a tranny - and he was keen for me to take the rap on his behalf if it got ugly. In the end there was no need for concern, she was female, but it was a close run thing based on appearances alone, and it took Tripp a medical style examination to untimately determine the issue with any sense of finality.

Feeling a bit crook today, but should be good by tomorrow. Next stop Jindi.