tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-357660122024-03-14T06:05:19.925+09:30Prue OswinWhat I've been up to, where I've been and what's coming up.Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger24125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35766012.post-44400017692932176082008-10-13T12:50:00.014+09:302008-10-14T06:42:01.153+09:30<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh4MKMymRSb5IO4o69Oh-T29uscrIPgBrbvogtMN8apztSdmvdUg7TkmiO3YUiycb4c6Z-oBRMZvXeXwBcdcE_elDN_i7kCAu3KjrDX1W_LnUnycMl-OPrEmf6U8S28qeoLBzTrg/s1600-h/run2.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh4MKMymRSb5IO4o69Oh-T29uscrIPgBrbvogtMN8apztSdmvdUg7TkmiO3YUiycb4c6Z-oBRMZvXeXwBcdcE_elDN_i7kCAu3KjrDX1W_LnUnycMl-OPrEmf6U8S28qeoLBzTrg/s320/run2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5256747787953609042" /></a><span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Hawaii Ironman </span></span></span></span><div><span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">2008 11:11</span></span></span><div><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">It felt hard from the start. I struggled in the swim, I was tired on the bike and I didn't even consider the run until the bike was over. I guess I knew at the end of the bike that I would need to make a decision if I wasn't going to run. I guess I also knew that I couldn't really make that decision, so I did it. I clocked my longest ever Ironman time and I raced home against the sunset.</span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">It was a tough day on the bike and I had to look hard for good moments. We were being battered by the wind and I was gripping my handle bars trying to think "low thoughts" so as not to be blown over the rainbow. I decided to mix some happy thoughts amongst my low ones. I looked along the coastline and out at the blue ocean, I imagined a time when I would have new bikinis and be frolicking in the ocean like any other sensible holiday maker. Just then I caught up to Belinda Harrison, another female athlete from Australia we swapped stories of pain and suddenly I was laughing. It would have been nice to battle back to town together but the laws of drafting have the unpleasant side effect of making the event a bit antisocial. Ah, well, I thought, maybe she'll catch me in the run.</span></span></span></span></span></div><div><div><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />I battled the headwind into town feeling really tired and attaching my focus to one happy thought, sitting down in the transition tent. All I knew was I was going to get to that chair and I was going to enjoy it. I didn't think about the marathon, only the chair.<br /><br />When I finally got there, I spent less than a minute in my chair. I was happy but overwhelmed. I'd made it and yet....there was something more to do. A set of tears started to well, I grabbed my hat, my sunglasses and I left. I ran or shuffled or somethinged out of transition. <br /><br />I didn't run well but I kept going. The kilometer marks were never really on my side and I realised that's because it's a marathon. It's always going to be longer than you want it to be. I would walk if I had to but not until the last 8km. I couldn't imagine walking more than 8km. It would take forever! I thought of my favourite placard held up by a specator at Wisconsin Ironman "If it was easy, I would be doing it." </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I needed to generate some positives from this experience. I started looking for my happy thoughts again. I thought about some of the lovely people I'd met here in Kona, the positive energies around the friends I have in this sport and how much I like certain things about certain people. People I look to for inspiration. Then I thought to myself, "that's all good prue, but you've got to think what's good about you." It felt strange to be racing badly thinking good things about myself but it seemed to work. I started to feel a little lighter in the legs, a little prouder in my not so fast run andmost importantly, I was kind of amused.<br /><br />I took the learning with me to the finish line. The cheering was unbelievable. From all directions "good job, well done, you're amazing," smiles, the biggest ever. Americans are such incredibly enthusiastic people. At first I thought I didn't deserve it, I haven't done this as well as I should but that's not what it's about. I got to finish and I got my experience and the next day I frolicked in the water in my new non sensible bathers like any other sensible holiday maker.</span></span></span></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35766012.post-71472771582894251362008-10-09T11:17:00.015+09:302008-10-09T16:43:31.048+09:30<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Training in Yucatan - Mexico<img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuGiM4Mn6y1J4LT1cTJMdP2sevrW11UYtCGjAib99euLRDi6yPS9bf5y4HNjs3VnSMICybfYvpZ4kTlSlfK0rwINAGRGwPkOVNhZC-6y1PJPLKPJ-49t9SRNKSNGP92sttbyqEmQ/s320/overseas+019.jpg" style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5254993058599826850" /></span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Oct 2008- Chixulub </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">After the Cancun Half Ironman we made Chixulub, a small fishing village on the Yucatan Peninsula our home and training base for 10 days. We had originally planned to base at my sister's house in Merida but an important person at the local 50 metre pool wouldn't let us swim there. So David, my sister's great friend and professional "problem solver" suggested we relocate to his cousin's beach housed to peddle between the villages, run on the beach and swim in the sea. </span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">We lived the high life for those ten days in the village. We hired a scooter and our little house came complete with a dog (or maybe even four), a gardener (he appeared one day and offered to fix the garden for a small fee) and running water (most of the time). </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">In between outsmarting mosquitos on the hammock we peddled between farming villages, mangroves, sleepy fishing communities, pink flamingoes and cenotes. If you ever mention you are travelling to Yucatan to someone who has been there they will<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; "> tell you about the cenotes, and I can see why. Temperatures were generally so hot that the </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; "> notion of bike riding for fun seemed slightly obsurd. I reasoned against this by selecting </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; ">a cenote as the object of every ride. To be honest I only actually got to the cenote about half the time, as something unexpected would often change the course of the ride. But the strategy worked well and I peddled many miles in those few days.</span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I want to share these experiences of training on the Yucatan Peninsua because I found very little information on the net about cycling in this area, and after going there I'd highly recommend it to others.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">What I loved about cycling in this area on the Yucatan Peninsula. For starters, I peddled on some of the quietest roads I've ever ridden. I spent a lot of time pondering how the roads could be so good and yet so little utilised. Jeff suggested it was because there were no cars on them and that seems quite a plausible answer. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">My longest ride was about 190kms. I followed the coast for 75kms through tiny villages until I got to the beautiful fishing village of Dzilm Bravo. When I turned to the sea I looked out at about 30 little wooden fishing boats, gracefully sleeping in front of the town, then I looked west and must have seen another hundred boats. In each boat I saw a family and an honest if small income from the sea, but in the whole fleet I saw an industry, quietly providing for the village and the other villages inland of this town. My camera wasn't with me, but I won't forget the image of the boats at Dzilm Bravo. </span></span></div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6fDOpvmWhZxFAyqzc5o9D6sQdCGe9H1pom0ZTTnoEHVEXK-slhlpnwPtGZ9ZQv1vjZx9flyXm2Wv89kyCaLpCSxDfpArcLPgqbF5Kg3FlPJfNDj4ff70mBxmI3POEvhespZxgTg/s320/overseas+028.jpg" style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5254989230092759666" /><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">From here I peddled inland to a village called Gonzalas. There was something happening here. A small bullring was constructed in the main square and festivities were going on. Ignorant me, with no understanding of Spanish, had to peddle through the town in awe and wonderment about the goings on. Maybe the festival only lasts a day, but I'll always think of that village as the festive on. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I suspect that at least one of the roads was an old Mayan one as it was perfectly flat, straight and free of potholes despite being built through a mangrove. The highlight of this road was the Pink Flamingos. The road went right through their munching ground. At first they just didn't seem real. I had heard of a Pink Flamingo but quite honestly I thought it was an alcoholic cocktail. I am better educated now.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">A wrong turn at the end of my ride took me through one more village and brought me home in the mozzie hour, just before dark. I'd spent most of the day out there exploring and it was a wonderful feeling to come home with some many images gathered. I though out there on my ride, that this was how I wanted to see the world, from my bicycle. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">In some ways I blended into the local Yucatan scene better than I did to some parts of America. In America, me and my bicycle were always drastically outnumber by cars. In Yucatan we were in the majority. On some roads I saw more bikes than cars and in the villages the standard family vehicle was tricycle. Admittedly there were no other Felt B2's around, and I'm quite sure I didn't see much lycra but because bikes and motos are very common in this, even the cars that were there were extremely curteous in sharing the roads. </span></span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35766012.post-40818171468899141392008-10-09T11:01:00.003+09:302008-10-09T11:16:38.031+09:30<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS7wlfXSEQQgQJ_CeqCkhZHWb4cmCiKA7mK6v_EA42A2vEOECrU52RkM9psuKKSiw3dyTGWUrIxndlYhxlVjj4Un_u_aEpwLKezafFLAUaz2sY4n8Izfs52o5-Agm3TpqkwvlIZA/s1600-h/logoSubHomeHistoria.gif"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS7wlfXSEQQgQJ_CeqCkhZHWb4cmCiKA7mK6v_EA42A2vEOECrU52RkM9psuKKSiw3dyTGWUrIxndlYhxlVjj4Un_u_aEpwLKezafFLAUaz2sY4n8Izfs52o5-Agm3TpqkwvlIZA/s320/logoSubHomeHistoria.gif" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5254963651895791074" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Training in Mexico City and Cancun</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Sep-Oct 2008</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Fresh, or maybe not so fresh after doing Wisconsin Ironman we headed to Mexico City to see my sister and to continue training for Cancun Half Ironman and Hawaii. There was not a lot information around about training in Mexico so my sister Verity, who is fluent in Spanish, initiated the investigaitons. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The Mexican Triathlon Association were extremely helpful in arranging for us to train at SportsCity in Mexico City and Cancun. The facilities at these gyms were really amazing. In Mexico City it contained a 25 metre swimming pool and a fully enclosed 400 metre running track. By using the gyms daily we were able to maintain training whilst exploring the city. A big thankyou to SportsCity for their assistance. </span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35766012.post-84672848964836093322008-10-09T10:59:00.004+09:302008-10-09T13:29:26.084+09:30<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMhyWoaBYsIAL3uuWbhXSEmzncTQf6pbk0jw4pifVev3p_JwiNxMBxIQclMFcjJC-B0volwO_EigpnNoord8MdALMKOA91qRpIqGBnFjWfBi11EoBM8WXSUdGAhfAoX-jLEO3UDQ/s1600-h/overseas+051.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMhyWoaBYsIAL3uuWbhXSEmzncTQf6pbk0jw4pifVev3p_JwiNxMBxIQclMFcjJC-B0volwO_EigpnNoord8MdALMKOA91qRpIqGBnFjWfBi11EoBM8WXSUdGAhfAoX-jLEO3UDQ/s320/overseas+051.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5254997662138945906" /></a><span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Merida Mexico to Kona Hawaii</span></span></span></span><div><span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">October 6th</span></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Yesterday morning we woke early and we woke hungry. We were staying at my sister Verity's house in Merida. The house contained a king size bed, a hammock and our luggage strewn across antique tiles in the rooms of the old mansion. No fridge and no food so we lycrad up and peddled into town to have breaky at a traditional Mexican Restaurant. I ordered the hotcakes. It did seem strange that the best hotcakes of this trip were had in that little Mexican Restaurant whilst I had my best Mexican meal in a little town called Lebannon in Portland.<br /><br />So after breakfast we peddled south to explore the villages. We found Haciendas, gorgeous little villages and our first road with hills and bends in Yucatan. The hills must have been less than 5 metres in elevation but it was so fun to peddle up and feel a buzz of speed on the way down. For two weeks we have only had the wind to play with and this was something different.<br /><br />We spent about five hours in our last peddlig exploration of the Yucatan penninsula. Once more we found the roads to be quiet and smooth, giving us freedom to choose our path amongst the tiny villages. We peddled back into Merida and the same traditional Mexican Restaurant. We ran into David there, a friend of Verity's who runs bird tours. By this stage I think we were definitely locals.<br /><br />Our bus left Merida at 11pm, it got us to Cancun by 3am and from there we made it to the airport. We arrived there at 4am. It might seem strange to some that in Mexico they request that international traveller's arrive 3 hours before their flights whilst the airline staff (who check you in) arrive two hours before the flight. We had an hour in an empty airport to consider this.<br /><br />From Cancun we flew to Houston, from Houston we flew to LA, from LA we flew to Honolulu, from Honolulu we flew to Kona. At Kona we picked up a hire car and drove to this lovely little condominium up the hill and looking over the sea.</span></span></span></span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35766012.post-65067541132230326462008-09-09T00:44:00.005+09:302008-09-09T01:35:14.258+09:30<strong><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;">Ironman Wisconsin<br />Walrus Karma</span></strong><br /><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;">7th Female, 10hrs17mins</span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"></span><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEOe5uvkoaptmODXouU5J0ThSvetPWGusJl2Mgksi6RyxM_Tbev_ZV-IsH9BKcuPx-j686vluwtSqVpvJFeBYVhV216nULPf-U2vAo8NgdD3AWdrcDkm5FurPVtKA53FuwN2tJWA/s1600-h/walrus.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5243679371501380130" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEOe5uvkoaptmODXouU5J0ThSvetPWGusJl2Mgksi6RyxM_Tbev_ZV-IsH9BKcuPx-j686vluwtSqVpvJFeBYVhV216nULPf-U2vAo8NgdD3AWdrcDkm5FurPVtKA53FuwN2tJWA/s320/walrus.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"> I probably should have been concentrating harder on navigating my way around the buoys in Monona Lake and trying to find some other swimmers but at some stage my mind drifted and I started thinking about walruses. If there was a walrus in this lake, it would be laughing at me now and I have no right to complain, I laugh at them. Have you seen a walrus move on land? Flippers flapping, head wobbling, bottom wriggling. They use almost as much energy moving on land, as I do in the water. As I flapped, wobbled and wriggled my bottom through Lake Monona I came to the realisation that when I am laughing at a walrus, I am really laughing am myself.<br /><br />So that was the start of Ironman Wisconsin for me. It was a bit disappointing as I’d done my swim training and I didn’t feel I did the swim I am capable of but, I have been disappointed coming out of the swim before and I just refuse to do it again. There is too much left of the day at that stage to worry about what has passed and besides the crowds are cheering, the music is blaring and I've finished the swim! What's there to be sad about. As one spectator reminded me at the top of the hardest climb on the course "I like to ride my bicycle." After the swim I got to do the funnest transition ever. We ran up a spiral ramp to the third floor of a <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc59WMdAqAOG5iap-KEzxjwVNLo6xk3hWurdWL0q2lHHVu6YoV8kvEQTpijLNYu15ryVkHogy0Pc9sPkc66FsfbABYTesBWCzJTuUjx2OuvfxZQzPeesAdo3ZbThddQ8TRT9F7Vw/s1600-h/07092008201.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5243679375782146114" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc59WMdAqAOG5iap-KEzxjwVNLo6xk3hWurdWL0q2lHHVu6YoV8kvEQTpijLNYu15ryVkHogy0Pc9sPkc66FsfbABYTesBWCzJTuUjx2OuvfxZQzPeesAdo3ZbThddQ8TRT9F7Vw/s320/07092008201.jpg" border="0" /></a>multistory carpark and met our bicycles.<br /><br />I like the Ironman Wisconsin bike course. Someone asked me after the race if it was a hard or easy course. Time wise I really don’t know but mentally it is a good course to get your head around because it changes direction so often that you really can’t get your head around it.<br /><br />It was a delight to ride amongst so many spectators. Towns, crests, corners – they found all the good sports to cheer from and as expected my favourite American cheer, “good job” was being shouted from all directions.<br /><br />I think my favourite memory of the race was of coming into transition two. It’s worth remembering because it’s always good to have something to look forward to for the next race. “If you peddle hard Prue, you will get into transition two early and there will be lots of people there to help you.” When I ran in this time there were about fifty women lined up to receive the expected arrivals. Their was a bit of a shortage of arrivals so I got extra special attention and a very warm send off.<br /><br />That was just the start of it. The marathon course for this race is just how I think a marathon course should be – right through the centre of the town and the important places of the city. A marathon is an inspiring event and it should be thrown out there in front of everyone, so that everyone can see what everyone is actually capable of doing. The main street was lined with people and the university seemed to turn into one big party. We ran through the local football stadium, which was a first for me. It was serene inside and for just a minute we ran on soft green, grass surrounded by a building filled with the essence of sport.<br /><br />I was hurting in the second half of the run, my feet were really sore and my back was really tight, it was the first race I’ve done where really it was joints and pain that started holding me back rather than muscles and fatigue. The racing element was there and I concentrated hard on making everything move as quickly as possible but I slowed a lot in that second loop. I was happy with how I rode and pleased with what I did during the run given the suffering but maybe next time I would like to go a bit faster. : )<br /><br />One thing that stands out from that run is that when I first started doing Ironman events I would entertain the idea that I couldn't make it, or I would need to give in. Those thoughts are fading as I do a few more but I think the bigger influence is from looking around me at my fellow competitors. As I was finished most of the people around me were heading out for another lap. They were running, and they were running hard, and they were running for longer than me. I thought it was quite a tough marathon but with the crowds and the huge field, a really inspiring one.</span><br /></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35766012.post-62719562844602305362008-07-04T20:16:00.017+09:302008-07-05T13:03:48.844+09:30<strong><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;">INSOMNIA 24 HOUR MOUNTAIN BIKE RACE<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm_YhUS0eSZuanEZSW82uiHeYHIk6uux52S9nbCDfccXTQS1gxF6yWS1M3ApILt4MrZlo0YKSq6hObAKJn-iRAnEnYGlEinbLMSZGq-1JRr2KpBz28DgXRD2YgHV6FyrKky1n5RQ/s1600-h/SM2.jpg"><span style="font-size:85%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5219116837875196802" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" height="306" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm_YhUS0eSZuanEZSW82uiHeYHIk6uux52S9nbCDfccXTQS1gxF6yWS1M3ApILt4MrZlo0YKSq6hObAKJn-iRAnEnYGlEinbLMSZGq-1JRr2KpBz28DgXRD2YgHV6FyrKky1n5RQ/s320/SM2.jpg" width="206" border="0" /></span></a></span></strong><br /><div><span style="font-family:verdana;">Geocentric Outdoors</span></div><div><a href="http://www.geocentricoutdoors.com.au/insomnia/index.htm"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">http://www.geocentricoutdoors.com.au/insomnia/index.htm</span></a></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">June 2008 - 1st Place Solo Female</span> </span></div><br /><div></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">All I can honestly say is I’m not quite sure what happened or how I did it. My estimate is that I rode 300 kilometres in 22 hours. In the middle of the night I stopped for an hour and a half with an exhausted feeling all over. I didn’t know if I was going to get on the bike again but when I did things were good. So they’re the facts that tie my memorable moments from the race together. </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"></span></div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"><div>The idea of riding for 24 hours was a little too daunting from me to comprehend. With that in mind, my approach was to ride for as long as I could but….there was a but….a little healthy competition wouldn't go astray. I knew Jeff was only going to be riding for 16 hours, the mathematics suggested if I rode the whole thing, the tally at the end of the day might be in my favour. I decided this was a great joke and started spreading the word. </span></div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">It was a joke but really I think it was the joke that got me through in the end. It was my first real experience of talking myself up and then being in the unenviable position of having to deliver. </span><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">I rode with Anna for the first few laps. She taught me how to enjoy the mud puddles and whilst I new the novelty would wear off, it was a nice reminder of how important it was to enjoy the good parts of the race and the course. I remembered back to relishing the experience of my first Ironman, doing something new, daunting and not quite comprehendible. I was so happy in that race and I attribute much<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFM0EGsHXjsOiFHyd32rzOzER01kn27x22FiGzzepDPAIpmaB0D91Pi7ngq2bI8jyScGGLqX5dEA4RH9S5c53Qihrwv885MMmN_a8ZySqIAqwAFcpM5f9E2Rg9RUtxGOaF8BZFEg/s1600-h/Copy+of+race+start.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5219116823364751682" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 281px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 187px" height="202" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFM0EGsHXjsOiFHyd32rzOzER01kn27x22FiGzzepDPAIpmaB0D91Pi7ngq2bI8jyScGGLqX5dEA4RH9S5c53Qihrwv885MMmN_a8ZySqIAqwAFcpM5f9E2Rg9RUtxGOaF8BZFEg/s320/Copy+of+race+start.jpg" width="320" border="0" /></a> of the good day I had, to that positive mindset.<br /><br />So what were the enjoyable elements of riding for that long? It was a beautiful setting and a fun course. There were people squealing with glee on the descents, one was described as the runway, we let our brakes off at the top of the hill and flew down onto a smooth open grassy field. The climbs were tough but rewarding, there was winding single track and some open fire trail where in the early hours of the night I would greet the full moon. The track took us back through the camping ground twice on each loop. There were bands, people sitting around campfires, tents and coffee. It was a great atmosphere. </span></div><br /><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">The mud holes got bigger through the night. They got on top of some people and they started to get me down. I felt the dread creeping in. I decided that if I kept riding them, I would inevitably be eaten. From then on the method was to walk, leap, squelch and most importantly wheel the bike through the mud. I was much happier. </span><br /></p><p><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;">When tiredness finally got the better of me I pulled into the support<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijH0OszCcJGGvCZ1nPP3AqTSv_lpb_7WdsdCUL-vBC_pgznqOSN2PQ8xymQ2SvMY6kmiCbS7WMxtOy0c8d6O2k_SNSFizXu8Xm6cLiU9IrZsNZBGWDjpB5G8YWx6wJOgd2dHiY1A/s1600-h/Copy+of+a+quick+break.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5219116830187746482" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" height="205" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijH0OszCcJGGvCZ1nPP3AqTSv_lpb_7WdsdCUL-vBC_pgznqOSN2PQ8xymQ2SvMY6kmiCbS7WMxtOy0c8d6O2k_SNSFizXu8Xm6cLiU9IrZsNZBGWDjpB5G8YWx6wJOgd2dHiY1A/s320/Copy+of+a+quick+break.jpg" width="313" border="0" /></a> area at 1:30 am. In this zone I was treated like the Mud Princess. Karen removed my muddy shoes and cleaned my feet, the rest of me wasn't working, so she put on my dry socks and covered me in sleeping bags, I was handed food and hot coffe and left to rest. An hour and a half later when the determination hadn't fallen asleep Karen I mounted my clean bicycle and set off again. </span></p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">In the early hours of the morning, Karen told me the good news that I was well ahead of the other solo females…but…”here’s the but, Jeff’s just got on his bike", basically, the bad news was I had to ride to the clock struck 12.<br /><br />It was morning though and everybody talks about the rejuvenation it provides. It was a really beautiful course and the mud was drying. I could take some longer breaks at the end of each lap, the camp site had awoken and encouragement was flowing. <br /><br />I quite enjoyed riding the slowest lap ever on my last lap, trying not to come in too far before 12 o-clock, the nice slow pace of my thoughts in the beautiful <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWTriLq0Dj_7BmI9J_zTTN8slLy75tryIqm5Hy-ft_GP0gJMd7eUuummmFVU-KeTSYc5yXQRuS5U-TiyXjiR3Iuu0dHqP2CQ8sWRS858Mc1GSr0iK5Ijc0I8fA0Hs-feRV-awwSg/s1600-h/IMG_1861.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5219116830838966050" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" height="307" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWTriLq0Dj_7BmI9J_zTTN8slLy75tryIqm5Hy-ft_GP0gJMd7eUuummmFVU-KeTSYc5yXQRuS5U-TiyXjiR3Iuu0dHqP2CQ8sWRS858Mc1GSr0iK5Ijc0I8fA0Hs-feRV-awwSg/s320/IMG_1861.JPG" width="205" border="0" /></a>setting. I was happy with what I did.<br /><br />Big thanks of course to Karen - the support was just amazing, and the event organisers for this one. They've chosen a truely beautiful location and worked really hard to put on a fantastic event that really brings the Queensland Mountain Bike Community together. </span><br /></span><span style="font-size:85%;"></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35766012.post-3837636817548484762008-05-25T20:01:00.009+09:302008-07-04T20:16:30.762+09:30<span style="font-size:130%;">ALICE SPRINGS ANACONDA MOUNTAIN BIKE ENDURO</span><br /><div><div><div>5 Days of Mountain Biking around Alice Springs</div><div>DNS (did not start) Stage 1 - Ok in the others (197th out of just over 200)</div><br /><div><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy7VBZ6ugQjxlI3VgQ8aDIVXNGEJ2OHt9v-j_VjvmTnfJI_U40zeMHQONoWENrLQOp8TiYrBrny7_-bKUoe0RAgNphwZJOqYjQUWKVY0OdzwZrGcNlWR0eyaC45JD6FgSYmRz4eA/s1600-h/IMG_5609.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5219107182959844402" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy7VBZ6ugQjxlI3VgQ8aDIVXNGEJ2OHt9v-j_VjvmTnfJI_U40zeMHQONoWENrLQOp8TiYrBrny7_-bKUoe0RAgNphwZJOqYjQUWKVY0OdzwZrGcNlWR0eyaC45JD6FgSYmRz4eA/s320/IMG_5609.jpg" border="0" /></a>For days my imagination had been running wild producing all sorts of dusty red images of “The Alice”. It didn't produce the MacDonnell Ranges however, and it didn't even come close to creating the drama of the scarred landscape that I first saw from the aeroplane window. Alice Springs itself appeared as a fairly insignificant moment in the story of the land. The ridges loomed over it and when we landed the streets and buildings were dominated by the red rocks around. I instantly wanted to explore and to be here with a bicycle was very exciting.<br /><br />Thank goodness they put a race here. I can’t imagine a better way to experience it. At the outset we had five days of adventuring in front of us: five days of exploring the land, five days of struggles and rewards. For tens of thousands of years people have been experiencing its intensity and just for a moment we were amongst them.<br /><br />I was totally dependent on the trails for direction and distance in this landscape that I didn’t know. Fortunately the organisers marked them carefully and I followed them through the intricate parts of the land: down amongst the sand, the thorns and the pebbles of old storms; up over the ridges, over the rocky limestone outcrops and finally back to where I was safe – not a moment too soon usually.<br /><br />The best moment in a ride came after a very tough sandy straight. I was in need of a rest <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjODP7YsgXhtW-vGE9uXbJvd8q6oYrPgCTtWhNa470y2TpQTf-t7A_1tewU_m-O_uqS4ThgYmG5m1DCFxIYKH71lz6Dy9_7ZuxxMR7DbCg6XQc4Y49evt7WTdOC-EPYK-0JswuvTA/s1600-h/DSC00354.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5207932340396449298" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjODP7YsgXhtW-vGE9uXbJvd8q6oYrPgCTtWhNa470y2TpQTf-t7A_1tewU_m-O_uqS4ThgYmG5m1DCFxIYKH71lz6Dy9_7ZuxxMR7DbCg6XQc4Y49evt7WTdOC-EPYK-0JswuvTA/s320/DSC00354.jpg" border="0" /></a>physically and mentally and was steadily climbing up a ridge. When I got to the top everything was revealed, the land unfolded in all directions and still 70 kilometres from Alice, I was exhausted and isolated enough to feel part of it.<br /><br />Later in that same ride I was tired, we were tired. I needed to stop to go to the toilet and lost the group I'd been riding with. I peddled along a corrugated road as a lone cyclist thinking of home. My pace started to drop. I heard voices and laughter and along came Celia and her crew. You meet the resilient types out there on the long days. Celia seemed to be leading the pack and the conversation, a rare combination really. I joined the group and the festivities. We rolled into the next aid station and two little girls came out with lollies and fruit cake, Celia chatted to the girls and complimented them before going anywhere near the goodies.<br /><br />My friend Carrie was volunteering all week. She came back each day with stories of riders at the drink stations. Carrie's hero of the race was Celia's mum Coral. Coral was one of the older women doing the race and had cut her kneed quite badly on the first day. Against advice she'd snuck out of the aid station to finish the stage. I met Coral after I'd met Celia. She had the same huge smile, with a few more lines around it and was having an amazing time.<br /><br />We raced one night and from the back of the field I watched a spectacular line of lights stretch out into the night as the leaders climbed up into the hills and we followed. I felt like I was riding fast, to fast and not fast enough. There was dust and lights everywhere, at times the dust replaced the track and I followed the red light of the rider in front. I felt sorry for the man behind me as I blundered through rocks and sand. After a while I came up with my own personal joke to lighten the load on my mind and get me riding smoothly: "style and grace” I repeated to myself, whilst remember walking with a book on my head in high school. It helped I laughed, and I smoothed out the load on my bike. I spoke to a few women who'd got frightened in the night race and a few who loved it. Those who loved it had great lights, namely Ay-ups, those who didn't either had bad lights or were going really fast. I had great lights and I rode just fast enough to feel the adrenalin so I had a great time.<br /><br />Whilst most of us were enjoying the festivities and the survival element of the race I was very aware that Naomi and Imogen, the leading two females were under enormous pressure. Each day that we went out to survive, they went out to race and survive. With only minutes between them the pressure built throughout the week. Each day they seemed to be working harder and it was great to see the huge smiles on each of their faces when it was all over.<br /><br />For me and many others I think the Anaconda Mountain Bike Enduro was more of an adventure than a race. It was an amazing week, in an incredible landscape with an enormous group of fantastic people. It will take a long time for the images and experiences to make their way back from the forefront of my mind and it’s unlikely I’ll miss the next one. </div></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35766012.post-30247562127531575602008-05-12T13:28:00.011+09:302008-07-05T13:05:33.483+09:30<strong>MATRIX - 6 HR MOUNTAIN BIKE RACE</strong> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2w5xoIcun8ZGe644WS3E8q-jAEVsTxOSmboavDjP92Cs0_qWSPuwzlmYw0OOgq6zFCz8o9Dr7AfC1-WlVZwSeXhRYrnS1alPJT5nX2ymj0pGbGf3Ic2vApF4LVByP63ttaGrvRw/s1600-h/Kanungra_0952.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5199341522383779202" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 289px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 185px" height="199" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2w5xoIcun8ZGe644WS3E8q-jAEVsTxOSmboavDjP92Cs0_qWSPuwzlmYw0OOgq6zFCz8o9Dr7AfC1-WlVZwSeXhRYrnS1alPJT5nX2ymj0pGbGf3Ic2vApF4LVByP63ttaGrvRw/s320/Kanungra_0952.jpg" width="305" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">First Place Solo Women</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I was looking forward to this race. Six hours might sound like a long time but after doing a 12 hour race and attempting a 24, 6 hours seemed like a sensible amount of time to spend on a bike. Break it into three 2 hour blocks, nutritionally, mentally and physically: it all adds up to a nice day in the forest. </span><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Someone asked me how the track was after the first lap, “great," I said. There were some really nice parts to it, some great challenges and it was nice to be riding somewhere new. After three or four laps I wasn’t so sure. The one and a half hour mark felt like the two and a half hour mark, the two and a half hour mark felt like the 4 hour mark. A long day was emerging. </span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWK-kUAsoCNj9eD1rSSiHdyemC2gcf68XMobQLj8NcBb8Et_eG4K589q7cGh9bMDoZMX3gkw7v8ndKTbi0MV-cGXJ5tmmtw4KurhT0gYGm9e6DtLkgRW0ahRJI2Pe5-gpQyTTp6w/s1600-h/Kunangra+(4).JPG"><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></a><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /><br />I’m lucky; I’ve inherited the services of Jeff’s support crew for these races. His sister Karen and her husband Ratty had left home when we were still in bed and by the time we had arrived, the tent was up, the esky out, and their faces plastered with smiles and encouragement. They set the benchmark for what support is in these races. As my spirits started to shrink, they picked it up another notch. The most enthusiastic face you can imagine greeted me each lap on a section of course that somehow made my wheels square! For some reason Karen was saying I looked fantastic. It must have been the square wheels. As I came around the next bend, there was ratty, cold drinks, food and best of all something to set me laughing up the hill. “How’s Jeff going?” i said<br />“oh, he’s going great. Missing you though.” I got some good mileage out of t<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdx-Nf40W8QQC4ApScIVwEDeKJYUqi1Mai8ecwDBaxn_R0SGKjJjPwN7mUQD2QMiefH4PIvqszXyrg0GHEuGWYAmQlR7OA4u8oeYa5Prj729H87qu6S_9rNtq2Xwlj7Esl9IBzSA/s1600-h/kunangra+cam.bmp"><span style="font-size:85%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5199337678388049218" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 272px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 168px" height="188" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdx-Nf40W8QQC4ApScIVwEDeKJYUqi1Mai8ecwDBaxn_R0SGKjJjPwN7mUQD2QMiefH4PIvqszXyrg0GHEuGWYAmQlR7OA4u8oeYa5Prj729H87qu6S_9rNtq2Xwlj7Esl9IBzSA/s320/kunangra+cam.bmp" width="297" border="0" /></span></a>hat one. These guys were going to make it really difficult for me to give in.<br /><br />After three hours I started gaining confidence in a suspicion I’d had earlier, this was a really tough course for endurance. With no rest sections, no easy down hills and lots of rocks, we were working all the time. Jeff passed me every three or four laps. We'd chat for the brief moment it took him to disappear. By the third time I had a confession, “ooh, I’m tired Jeff.” </span><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /><br />There were lots of riders doing their first race and with the hills, the rocks and the sand there just wasn’t time for gentle peddling and scenic riding. It took me back to my first race the previous year. It was a lesson in staying positive and looking for the entertainment value in every rock. It was amazing how many people were obviously going through this process, the Matrix and KBR guys were so impressive: without the experience of other races, many of them didn’t have the satisfaction of knowing they were doing a really tough course.<br /><br />As the day wore on, the crowd gathered around the start finish area. The<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdTSURK_Hoaq8x1WFXgSEEMqJp16mwzRHssH0pvo3CTzQGLy_S3XYpgzbZv1uY0ntSY195XUo1uGyYRL8mwmBR198C4SI35aI1KR_YQt-_goSezl7TFBHy7TlZUo2lNajOUcoRLg/s1600-h/Kunangra+(2).JPG"><span style="font-size:85%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5199341522383779218" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 202px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 242px" height="264" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdTSURK_Hoaq8x1WFXgSEEMqJp16mwzRHssH0pvo3CTzQGLy_S3XYpgzbZv1uY0ntSY195XUo1uGyYRL8mwmBR198C4SI35aI1KR_YQt-_goSezl7TFBHy7TlZUo2lNajOUcoRLg/s320/Kunangra+(2).JPG" width="224" border="0" /></span></a> teams started to gather and for once we got to see them all together in their matching outfits and dusty faces. They’d obvio</span><span style="font-size:85%;">usly had an adventure. I rolled in to the finish area. I was looking forward to seeing Jeff knowing he’d had a great race, I was thrilled to see Karen and Ratty still full of enthusiasm and sat down next to Cam who looked how I felt!<br /><br />I think the race was a bit of an equalizer really. There was no easy way to get around that course consistently. It just demanded and demanded, so more experienced riders and beginners all ended up in survival mode. It’s not always pleasant there but gosh it feels amazing after. </span></span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">Jeff won the Mens Solo (20 Laps) and 2nd overall including the teams. I won the Women's Solo. </span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35766012.post-18525768738752813302008-04-07T12:38:00.001+09:302008-04-10T16:18:55.878+09:30<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbTHnpJAkc5hZv9N3SY0q8NVhUkBadGqbN1dBmUhgy-FinyzVFpSxwxgVQYYK4y7H0QWn08BGQreHHtLxBCKdf7hZsz2d2y9BhWOPGjNfdAOTpbLL7sOl09jJGTTJ1keLPNgcdCg/s1600-h/IMG_2345.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5187504932298687490" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbTHnpJAkc5hZv9N3SY0q8NVhUkBadGqbN1dBmUhgy-FinyzVFpSxwxgVQYYK4y7H0QWn08BGQreHHtLxBCKdf7hZsz2d2y9BhWOPGjNfdAOTpbLL7sOl09jJGTTJ1keLPNgcdCg/s320/IMG_2345.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong>Port Macquarie Ironman 2008-04-07<br /></strong>4th Female, 10:00:02</span><br /><br />I found Nicole Ward just before the race. We were both nervous flurries putting on our swim caps and trying to get to the start. I said to her, “Nicole, I’ve been bad, I haven’t been going to swim squad, I will next time.” I felt instantly better with my confession out there in the open. We found Leanne and giggled as we climbed under the finish shoot stands to get into the water.<br /><br />It wasn’t a good swim. I knew as I approached the chute that I’d had a longer than usual experience in the Port Macquarie Water. I’d got a bit scared in the churn, there had been a current. I hadn’t been going to swim squad.<br /><br />Once I was on the bike I was happy. It’s easy to get a bit daunted by the hills at Port Macquarie but if you don’t mind a few of them, it really is a very spectacular course. The hills rejuvenate. We sailed into town at the end of every lap, the spectators’ cheered and we smiled. It was a good time not to think too far ahead.<br /><br />The second lap we had rain. Quite heavy rain really. I had a lovely moment as I tasted the water running into my mouth thinking how little it bothered me. On race day it’s just one of the experiences that are thrown in. Just as I thought this someone rode past and said, “this is miserable.” I felt lucky.<br /><br />Port Macquarie put on a show for us once again. It’s such a spectacle for first timers to see. They don’t see it all either. At every aid station there are scores of volunteers, lining up in formation to deliver, water, Gaterade, Anzac biscuits and bananas on the fly. They have to run with us as we come past on the bikes. In the first lap there’s always a bit of a high failure rate as competitors and volunteers sort out the process but throughout the day it gets better and better until there are hardly any tell tale signs of squashed Anzacs appearing on the road.<br /><br />I had chasing to do in this race. That bad swim, had to be made up with by my legs. The race leaders were out in front and getting further with every lap. They really are amazing to watch Chrissy Wellington and Kate Major. I’m glad they’re the best in the world! We get to see them out there all day and gosh they do a professional job of it.<br /><br />I just set about riding my bike, not being too cocky about the hills, but using what I had in my legs. I felt a little sluggish for quite some time but things got better. It’s nice having a few races in my experience nest now as I can refer back to each.<br /><br />In the last lap and a half of the run I started to feel in my zone. My legs felt strong, like they could withstand something if I asked it of them. I’ve done this race before and to change the experience I have to get out of “survival” mode in the run, and turn into race mode. This is what I did.<br /><br />I ran harder, faster down the hills. I know my legs can take this. I took the tail wind and ran with it. I took my goo to make sure I had the energy there. I ran to get there fast.<br /><br />By the next turn around I realised I was getting a lot closer to a few girls in the women’s field. They were all looking good. They’d been looking good for hours and I had no expectation of catching them. But I had to run at my new pace and the fact that I was catching people became an easy motivator.<br /><br />By two-thirds of the way through the last lap, I was within site of Sarah in 5th. I train with Sarah. She’d been looking fantastic all day and I know there is not faltering her. I had no expectation of catching her but I kept running harder. At the next turn around I was only 100 metres behind. It still seemed like a very long way. Friends kept cheering and the race became exciting. As I came past Sarah she said “well done Prue, 4th’s only 100 metres ahead, have some coke and go and get it.” It’s one of my favourite moments in an event. The best sportsmanship I’ve ever personally witnessed.<br /><br />I ran harder thinking to myself “I’ve always wanted to run with a bike.” The bike was the 4th place marker. I caught the bike before I caught Ali and I was tempted to be happy with that.<br /><br />This was all in the last kilometre. Sarah had also found more inside her, and was running superbly from behind until we got to the finish shoot and she was 25 meters behind again. We finished with 1 second between us in a sprint finish. I am so excited and so thrilled to be part of this. Sarah and I have very different strengths and races in triathlon. It’s wonderful seeing that the sport caters to different approaches and I’m so proud to be one of two Sunny Coast Girls off to Hawaii.</span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35766012.post-42387199213302402802008-04-02T14:18:00.008+09:302008-04-16T21:17:06.507+09:30<strong><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">Port Macquarie Ironman Training</span></strong><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;">I give myself two marks out of ten for each Ironman I do. The first one I receive before stepping foot on the start line. It’s the mark I give myself for my preparation, and no bad race can take it away. The next one is for what I do on race day; it’s about what I did during the race, if I stay tough, if I give it a good go, if I’m proud of what I do. I’m an engineer, so I deal with lots of numbers but funnily enough I keep the numbers to a minimum in my sport. Last year I got to the finish line of Port Macquarie and I said<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTklX7F9zRL1LQZV4Zi_H1A5sZfT9J0Zi8uAKwmZXt2y-skNDk6RUSAjCbuAMXNoZ6JoxzXvI5OuSVM4Jqx1Y1-NiY0g-jQaltus__xUv4NGDGc6KxXmB_U69StJMYBQm-V7XfvA/s1600-h/PtGlorious2.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5184509268318858306" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTklX7F9zRL1LQZV4Zi_H1A5sZfT9J0Zi8uAKwmZXt2y-skNDk6RUSAjCbuAMXNoZ6JoxzXvI5OuSVM4Jqx1Y1-NiY0g-jQaltus__xUv4NGDGc6KxXmB_U69StJMYBQm-V7XfvA/s320/PtGlorious2.JPG" border="0" /></a>, “I don’t care what the numbers say, I never expected to make it through that thing, and I’m just so proud of myself for doing so.”<br /><br />I’m happy I said that, as I can remember saying in conversation one day, “if I finish an Ironman and I’m not happy with myself, then it’s time to find a different sport.” Too much goes into an Ironman, to not feel a sense of accomplishment, no matter what the outcome. So anyway, that was last year. This is now and this is a reflection on the last few months which has been my preparation.<br /><br />It’s been an unusual lead up to Ironman. I’ve done a 12 hour all night mountain bike race, my first off road triathlon, a choose your own adventure triathlon course (I got lost), and I’ve been back to Goondiwindi - Hell of the West Triathlon to question why I do endurance sport.<br /><br />Things have gone to plan and things haven’t gone to plan. I’ve raced and pulled up great, I’ve trained and pulled up not so great. One day I didn’t make it out of the garage after my long ride and had to commence recovery with a bowl of muesli from there. Another day my long run turned extra long with bonus adventures as I got lost in a forest, found in someone’s back yard and soggy in a Queensland bog that was a sports oval before the rain started back in December.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC4MFlW6nNSWECxhctREOJkK98136B1usd5jgmiTb15rhDIdwbcnAnM-9qVtbw2LDp4HVuJrsSkmQH-Tos9IEWLRabGLRkXZmJ0jxUzDJ9wVYsOf0db9GLBnyMm1lt0KcOq15MVQ/s1600-h/DSC00195.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5184507593281612850" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC4MFlW6nNSWECxhctREOJkK98136B1usd5jgmiTb15rhDIdwbcnAnM-9qVtbw2LDp4HVuJrsSkmQH-Tos9IEWLRabGLRkXZmJ0jxUzDJ9wVYsOf0db9GLBnyMm1lt0KcOq15MVQ/s320/DSC00195.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />I became an inaugural member of the 9km an hour club, which Al and I formed on a steep 5km climb on a memorable mountain bike ride. AlI I could think was “I have to go faster than 9km an hour, I can’t do this for 35 minutes.” Jeff didn’t hang around for the invite to our club.<br /><br />I’ve enjoyed mixing long road rides, with mountain biking adventures. When I first went off road it was like running on a bicycle. I’m still scared of the rocks I’ve made improvements and it feels great. It also seems to make all the other sports seem easier.<br /><br />I’ve experimented with less than optimal bike positions (my cleats were too far back on my time trial bike), and out of alignment on my mountain bike. I’ve done long runs with my camel back, to finish runs hydrated and fresher. All these things seem to tell me a little bit more about my body and how it works in perfect and less than perfect situations.<br /><br />Twelve hours on a mountain bike at night became a great experiment in managing nutrition. Lapses quickly showed up in the dirt as the first thing to was co-ordination and cadence. I drank blueberry juice, coffee, coke, water and sports drink. I ate easter eggs, tuna sandwiches and home made biscuits. I tried to swallow some kind of baby food but thought better of it. </span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;">The Sunshine Coast and the active people here are continuing to surprise and inspire. We have over 20 people from this area competing in Ironman this year, we all have different stories. We'll all be out there again together on race day.</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35766012.post-19803422806803180642008-03-19T15:00:00.004+09:302008-03-30T18:40:25.070+09:30<span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">Tre-x Off Road Triathlon</span></strong><br />March 9th 2008<br /></span><a href="http://www.tre-x.com.au/"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;">http://www.tre-x.com.au/</span></a><br /><a href="http://www.photoevents.net.au/gallerytre_x.htm"><span style="font-size:78%;">http://www.photoevents.net.au/gallerytre_x.htm</span></a><br /><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"><strong>Someone decided to make triathlon fun.</strong><br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;">(1st Female), 2hrs 18 minutes. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXFfUeKryK_OB7lTepO70R0BF2P7z_wT-VCD-k7pNNrQaIihCpSZh5elyQg_qT6thAePWHpn-lEBEobQI2uaFMIQyDqOUBJ9MkKDenn7IZWxvfLwYPsHbKtxU59DdKuwcOZ3CVSQ/s1600-h/_E3V7444_1.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183458573289368562" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXFfUeKryK_OB7lTepO70R0BF2P7z_wT-VCD-k7pNNrQaIihCpSZh5elyQg_qT6thAePWHpn-lEBEobQI2uaFMIQyDqOUBJ9MkKDenn7IZWxvfLwYPsHbKtxU59DdKuwcOZ3CVSQ/s320/_E3V7444_1.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Imagine you’re about to do a triathlon. You’ve got your goggles, your bike and your running shoes, you’re setting them all up in a transition zone, but something’s different, you’re in the forest. <br /><br />So what’s different? You rack your bike (you need one of those ones with bobbly tyres), you bring a towel (because the ground is leaf litter) and you might choose to bring an older pair of running shoes if it’s been raining.<br /><br />The off road element makes the whole race heaps more fun. Suddenly the bike isn’t just about saving something for the run, it’s about going as fast as you can where you can, enjoying the hills, chatting to other riders and getting better with each lap as the course gets more familiar.<br /><br />Even the run, which I always see as the assessment element of a triathlon, was made more of an adventure and an experience. In this race we ran around the lake, and whilst there was one hill that made the legs shudder a bit, there were sections of the run you just couldn’t help but enjoy.<br /><br />The bush setting, the mountain biking, the festival type mode, all make this a wonderful way to spend a morning, push yourself or train. </span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35766012.post-50464685856869587642008-03-19T14:56:00.003+09:302008-03-20T10:22:12.212+09:30<span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"><strong>AYUP 12 hour Dusk to Dawn Mountain Bike Race<br />March 2nd 2008<br />Two Wheels Promotions</strong><br />(2nd Female Solo)<br /><a href="http://www.twowheelpromotions.com.au/home/index.php">http://www.twowheelpromotions.com.au/home/index.php</a></span> <div><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"><br />I blame the adventure racers!<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL_AE06DALjLrbH9mc1ZCLmfw71fPf74wI4ubp67RGvXX0sds6hDjm6xJ99LIjXu9WAnIlz_Fdj9VOSZAKpsXlpM1kKkCmGCVnHtaGiq8b69Tr-BK8FVxCeZPbKqUDLX8vpIBLbA/s1600-h/dawn3.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5179320212467946578" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL_AE06DALjLrbH9mc1ZCLmfw71fPf74wI4ubp67RGvXX0sds6hDjm6xJ99LIjXu9WAnIlz_Fdj9VOSZAKpsXlpM1kKkCmGCVnHtaGiq8b69Tr-BK8FVxCeZPbKqUDLX8vpIBLbA/s320/dawn3.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Triathlon, mountain biking…adventuring racing. I’ve never done an adventure race or a 24 hour but that hasn’t stopped what “they” do, influencing what I do.<br /><br />I thought Ironman was kind of it, as hard as it gets and as long and overwhelming as the challenge becomes. I trained so hard for my first Ironman just to survive it and now I discover that it is just one of many adventures that someone has conjured up, and someone else has decided to follow. What they do destroyed all the nice neat boundaries I had around what I thought was possible. I guess this is how I ended up sitting on my bicycle at 7pm getting ready to ride all through the night.<br /><br />I don’t really know what happened to the night. I can say I went, around and around and around that track because someone counted me doing so twenty times. If you asked me I’d probably guess half that number. I don’t know if it is fatigue or darkness that hides the memories.<br /><br />In comparison to a day 12 hour, I’d say it is cooler and a bit more of an adventure. It makes you search deep for things to keep your mind and body active, carefully timing a cup of coffee or a bit more coke. It’s a bit more social that a day race in some ways. Everyone’s looking for distractions and whilst the course gets kind of bare in those early morning hours, anyone you do come across is grateful for a chat. You get to sleep in which is a nice novelty before a race.<br /><br />The real challenges of night racing, as I could see it, were faced by the support. I just don’t think I could stay awake all night if I wasn’t peddling, and I just don’t think I could drag myself out of bed every half hour to organise a drink bottle. Jeff and Al were my support and they didn’t get an easy customer. I’d done better than last time in that I didn’t forget to bring all the food I’d prepared but I hadn’t got it organised. Despite this they managed to concoct some superb beverages (my favourite was water, coke and blueberry juice), hand me easter eggs (no one can complain about that), and deliver my tuna and coriander sandwiches at just the right moments.<br /><br />The course was great. After doing one lap I thought to myself that there really wasn’t one part of the loop I didn’t like, and there were many parts I liked a lot. The start, finish area comes just after a fun down hill at Kooralbyn so we always enter in good spirits.<br /><br />I’d been riding harder since about 4am when I found out Alex was not so far ahead of me. I put what I could into those next few laps, trying to concentrate on nutrition to ensure I kept going. The sun crept up and more people came out on the track again. I expected to feel refreshed by the light but I started to worry more on my descents and felt the tiredness. With two laps to go, I was just trying to keep going. I gave a few pretty despondent looks at my support crew who were offering me extravagant platters of lollies, sandwiches, juice, coke, fruit and easter eggs! The easter eggs seemed to be the preferred option at that time of the day. On the second last lap, I slowed right down and tried to hit survival mode. I stayed there for a little while and decided it just feels too uncoordinated on a mountain bike. I’m much better off peddling at a decent rate to keep steady on the climbs. So I enjoyed waking up the last bit of determination I had to use in those last two laps. And I enjoyed meeting Alex at the finish, I’d heard a lot about her.<br /></span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35766012.post-15959800765959998992008-02-15T13:00:00.003+09:302008-03-27T10:13:42.679+09:30<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLMu_KUhEZCpIjL7gMG3WOLpAweJmmy8htBzDoiiMJMsYP6bMPB7P9BqrItaLHefH6SV8CXmjNfnNxcNDCmcISGzSyaT8XcJwY74ml1mdJOySKk2nF6i6ErHW5rF6lddb35EzrzA/s1600-h/New+Picture.png"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182215635523709922" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLMu_KUhEZCpIjL7gMG3WOLpAweJmmy8htBzDoiiMJMsYP6bMPB7P9BqrItaLHefH6SV8CXmjNfnNxcNDCmcISGzSyaT8XcJwY74ml1mdJOySKk2nF6i6ErHW5rF6lddb35EzrzA/s320/New+Picture.png" border="0" /></a> <strong>Goondiwindi Hell of the West 2008<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3TSm2TVhPhRU8VE5Xcab5D0xfbx28Yxry3a59jNdjYV40ZhHh48dp6ns754_7fytejS2SSmaqpakhmwDXDTeore7usqE3VJpZiFv_EyUCTytTFlyDLtiU6zzHaMZKnpTzX_p7pA/s1600-h/Run+Fin.jpg"></a></strong><br />(2nd female) 4hrs 29 minutes<br /><br />“A proper triathlon, not one of these fancy city races, a tough, hot, flat race, The Hell of the West.” That’s how Mike Mason described it three years ago, when it first appeared on the horizon of my imagination as a possibility. It’s nice to come back each year, a little more comfortable with the prospect.<br /><br />The Goondiwindi Triathlon Club puts on a fantastic race. So well organised, so welcoming and away from the rain!! We were treated like special guests by the whole town. It’s a hot, tough race, but there is plenty of water, ice, coke and encouragement out there on the run, and if you need more to keep you going, you can start dreaming of anything you want, and it will probably be there in the recovery tent. They really do a good job.<br /><br />There was a moment on the run when I thought, “why do I do this to myself” and just as I was about to start looking for answers, I had to laugh. I’m quite sure I thought exactly the same thing last time I did this run. Well, now I’ve got an idea, it’s a hard flat race, there’s no hiding from effort and persistence to get through. It’s a perfect build up for Port Macquarie, a perfect tester to assess what’s going well in training and what might be lacking.Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35766012.post-65405260230069519462008-02-15T12:51:00.005+09:302008-03-27T10:14:09.118+09:30<strong>Busselton Ironman 2007<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-isH8newVQo6X0kpxkCkz8Rvu_diHXCAxp3-vqQ6A5x_Ss72LiwbQUBB4LswSTKrbszLXnakBKSjP3wDX7qsiHg9JlVbJF-rpy1i2HpW1kXe_gqzv9jXqgdMJx9K7H7AAAlhrqA/s1600-h/DSC00166.JPG"></a></strong><strong></strong><br />(9hrs 34 minutes, 6th Female)<br /><br />“Welcome back Prue.” That was my welcome to Ironman Western Australia. I wondered how the lady behind registration desk knew I was coming for a second time and then realised the smile was familiar. Anne registered me last year and we were both back for more. “You look much more relaxed this year” she said.<br /><br />I moved to the Sunshine Coast this year and started training in the “garden of Eden” as Henry from swimming describes it, “you’ve arrived,” he said, “from now on good things will happen.”<br />The coast is a fantastic place to live: we have the beaches out the front and the Hinterland, out the back. The active people here are prevalent. They’re positive, they’re fun, they’re welcoming and they’re making the most of living in such a place. Triathlon was my ticket into this community.<br /><br />And that’s what brought me to the registration desk smiling. I arrived there with friends, friends I never would have known if it wasn’t for this event and this lifestyle. I learnt a lot from these people over the last few months. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQSQEG6uxM9kyDuxu8BJi7EbmrJScKw5Zqcrv4EnC-YyyOpK1eR4T9ctccNYOr3vkddkROXcPbIZ9lNhQaGLuLZH-avecqkwVjbAztJkKx2V8fguAvcFzdc4_5XSwfUqDNjcs_ZA/s1600-h/Group+Shot+After+Race.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5167043617631979938" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQSQEG6uxM9kyDuxu8BJi7EbmrJScKw5Zqcrv4EnC-YyyOpK1eR4T9ctccNYOr3vkddkROXcPbIZ9lNhQaGLuLZH-avecqkwVjbAztJkKx2V8fguAvcFzdc4_5XSwfUqDNjcs_ZA/s320/Group+Shot+After+Race.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br />They’re good at living. They have families, some have children, some have grandchildren, some have just stopped being children, some ride mountain bikes, some don’t have bikes. Some are fast, some are a little more relaxed.<br /><br />My event contained the highs and lows that each race seems to provide. Learnings and lessons. I tried to smile as I rode out of town for the third time on my weary legs. I really wasn’t sure they were going to bring me back again. I grabbed a banana at an aid station and that seemed to help, so at the next I went for another but I missed. As the banana slid away from view an Anzac biscuit was suddenly in front of me, and with nothing to lose I gave it a go. It wasn’t really on the nutrition plan for the day, but it tasted good and I started reflecting on the hard times Anzac biscuits were created for. I ran into transition smiling and looking on the bright side, “I’m just so glad to get rid of that bike” I said to the ladies in the tent.<br /><br />I stayed chirpy for the first part of the run but mid way through the second lap things started to change. I’m sure I was doing some kind of stumble. I looked up at the 20km marker and thought “this isn’t sustainable.”<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3q3KwMHZLDGs53XPcMaqF0d-eyqaLgeXxCmClhSJ_B_tt_yZg4_1x_8jwFz44MsrEQ5lLRPkuu_24eKxzGcEEtWRkq7U8qlWR-N6yuUzzOMOkLD_2ChCSAIyr3hgDcJqxmnJ5kA/s1600-h/14610098.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5167042767228455314" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3q3KwMHZLDGs53XPcMaqF0d-eyqaLgeXxCmClhSJ_B_tt_yZg4_1x_8jwFz44MsrEQ5lLRPkuu_24eKxzGcEEtWRkq7U8qlWR-N6yuUzzOMOkLD_2ChCSAIyr3hgDcJqxmnJ5kA/s320/14610098.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />I gave walking a go. I walked fast and stretched my legs, the rhythm of running was still inside me, it wouldn’t leave and I didn’t let it. A woman came past and said “run with me”. It felt wrong to turn her down. I looked up and saw my friend Karen running cheery and strong. Maybe I gave her some kind of despondent smile. I knew I hadn’t given up, and though I would enjoy surprising her later.<br /><br />I might have walking for a minute, it might have been three, I don’t know. I turned my hand and hoped, as I would if I was trying to start a broken down car. I started running and it worked. My legs were loose and I was moving to my rhythm.<br /><br />On my last lap I saw Karen again, I smiled and waved.Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35766012.post-1160693010396748262007-12-20T07:09:00.003+09:302008-02-21T09:27:28.697+09:30<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin1cVJZcR83iwtyrvbLURJugKkDbOQ6j_efJhvwamopNfESMuTYztZKti7XTxdlYOK9SEBPSuJtFGsZGLET7Nk-tswudVszXLIIC5LGeTBXoZ6ZFN-n7qbHb-ytc-WNZX-6FVnCg/s1600-h/felt.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5167047006361176530" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin1cVJZcR83iwtyrvbLURJugKkDbOQ6j_efJhvwamopNfESMuTYztZKti7XTxdlYOK9SEBPSuJtFGsZGLET7Nk-tswudVszXLIIC5LGeTBXoZ6ZFN-n7qbHb-ytc-WNZX-6FVnCg/s320/felt.jpg" border="0" /></a> <div><div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkB1ArnQ3OqGx-1ZRXFFNL6cqEJVu9eJwgfiVD7aAqrb8IWCMCRVH8yFKS9I2De_QEJBwNbSdvGCtBA1yWTQZu2p6TPUHZ8Gx_ZsAU6muETzfZc-oZrKwrbF01OsZg_NBIWR6eIw/s1600-h/14602722.jpg"><span style="font-family:arial;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5167032682645244226" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkB1ArnQ3OqGx-1ZRXFFNL6cqEJVu9eJwgfiVD7aAqrb8IWCMCRVH8yFKS9I2De_QEJBwNbSdvGCtBA1yWTQZu2p6TPUHZ8Gx_ZsAU6muETzfZc-oZrKwrbF01OsZg_NBIWR6eIw/s320/14602722.jpg" border="0" /></span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Felt bicycles partner me in all these crazy adventures. I've been riding a 48cm B2 Time Trial with 650 wheels since June last year. I'm 163cm and it fits me perfectly. It can be hard to find time trial bikes that fit "little people". It's amazing how efficient this bike feels. I call it "the fast one." bicycle.</span> </div><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#ff0000;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0uqlv4mMTBBTvdHB7BDeFUxTEJqzpk6DNDxp4LPIRmluUZ-7608C_FMn9g_g4KZ3m7DJ6A6gBjNKKIDP4C22mMqBIJizGmK7gawvbZR9-3nBIiyEJ_oq7KQLtjwizqx34hc8l2A/s1600-h/6hr.7.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5167035620402874706" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 343px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 263px" height="277" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0uqlv4mMTBBTvdHB7BDeFUxTEJqzpk6DNDxp4LPIRmluUZ-7608C_FMn9g_g4KZ3m7DJ6A6gBjNKKIDP4C22mMqBIJizGmK7gawvbZR9-3nBIiyEJ_oq7KQLtjwizqx34hc8l2A/s320/6hr.7.jpg" width="369" border="0" /></a></span></div><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#ff0000;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#ff0000;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0uqlv4mMTBBTvdHB7BDeFUxTEJqzpk6DNDxp4LPIRmluUZ-7608C_FMn9g_g4KZ3m7DJ6A6gBjNKKIDP4C22mMqBIJizGmK7gawvbZR9-3nBIiyEJ_oq7KQLtjwizqx34hc8l2A/s1600-h/6hr.7.jpg"></a></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I also ride a Felt RXC Team hard tail mountain bike. It's light and it's very forgiving on me being new to mountain biking. I've been doing 6 and 12 hour endurance races and it's perfect. </span></div><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#3333ff;"><strong>JAGGAD.</strong> I love my Jaggad Sprint Jersey. It's completely breathable and has pockets to carry all the things I need in long races. Jaggad are an Australian company and they put a great deal of effort into making clothing that suits women with all different body shapes. It's lovely to have so many choices in the women's range. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5CnQUWQ-kWZh3Yn0e-zq7uABUbya9aCaK8Zto-3e3-IohI2T7CjBmTQyLeR2zk2RXLZgB2D4PheyjhVWt7u3SI6F9JzzpGHk-h1yqc6rGqlgyHQb0CrPnKpDedqzaUaZ3Z7LIvg/s1600-h/14612914.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5169214040700307938" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5CnQUWQ-kWZh3Yn0e-zq7uABUbya9aCaK8Zto-3e3-IohI2T7CjBmTQyLeR2zk2RXLZgB2D4PheyjhVWt7u3SI6F9JzzpGHk-h1yqc6rGqlgyHQb0CrPnKpDedqzaUaZ3Z7LIvg/s320/14612914.jpg" border="0" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:180%;"><strong><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2611/3985/1600/m1.gif"></a></strong></span><br /><br /><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong>Brooks. </strong>My feet aren't the easiest customers to please and if my shoes aren't right, they're not afraid to let me know. Brooks provide luxury accommodation for my feet. I run in Brooks Trance and Brooks Adrenalines. In all races including Ironman distance I use S3 Racing Flats. </span></p><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">All these shoes offer really good support but one of the best things about them is they seem to last longer than previous runners I've had.<br /></p></span><br /><br /><br /><br /><p> </p></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35766012.post-69839688402861395802007-07-15T17:28:00.000+09:302007-07-30T18:33:37.482+09:30<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGwyxrpexjk_3j_Rf0XQPSFiwDfjogymouLZrQarL59lbLr5LnpqVYy8XyW9vR-lirIzaTYOijKooIIH9CG60o8h2el5nqaOhYo5IJKmOXN3Q0KRojRdISNSUANm1Q-CrOyqPTvg/s1600-h/HA3H9144-2007noosaenduro.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5092912042636705458" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGwyxrpexjk_3j_Rf0XQPSFiwDfjogymouLZrQarL59lbLr5LnpqVYy8XyW9vR-lirIzaTYOijKooIIH9CG60o8h2el5nqaOhYo5IJKmOXN3Q0KRojRdISNSUANm1Q-CrOyqPTvg/s320/HA3H9144-2007noosaenduro.jpg" border="0" /></a> <strong>Noosa Enduro - July 15th 2007</strong><br /><strong>100km Mountain Bike Race (almost 6 hours for me)</strong><br /><div><br />We'd just climbed a fairly large hill, which had come not long after a similar fairly large hill and we were making our way up a ridge which was really just another fairly large hill. At this stage we'd come out of the forest and it was a pretty ordinary place to be if you were a cow. But we weren't cows, we were mountain bikers, we'd been pushing ourselves for about 4 hours and as I felt myself nearing my "brink", I felt sure the two cyclists next to me were feeling the same. I couldn't help laughing and saying to the others, "we're a strange bunch."<br /><br />And that's kind of the celebration that an event like the Noosa Enduro is. It puts the challenge out there and the people come. I feel really lucky that people have been out there for years, building up the mountain bike scene, so that people like me can stumble into it. Everybody out there today was giving it a go, giving something a go, giving a life a go. It doesn't mean they're superhumans, but in my opinion, they're often interesting people.<br /><br />It's funny that we like to push ourselves to the brink, it's funny exposing ourselves like that amongst a group of strangers. Really they're seeing us at our weakest but strangely enough they're also seeing us at our strongest. It's amazing howmuch you can know about a person from riding beside them in a situation like that for a day. The same person you don't recognise without their cycle jersey and bike.</div><div> </div><div><a href="http://www.usmevents.com.au/enduro/gallery.html">http://www.usmevents.com.au/enduro/gallery.html</a> </div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35766012.post-43057755954019089112007-07-07T19:29:00.000+09:302007-07-30T18:47:21.491+09:30<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioWqxxFO3GjqiA1CA5aJxzOPmKrI3vdSXLR9NSjl3Km57ZZXUqg-jJVdfCarjJzpUnP34x2J5rN2Sgzub6SUO6OTBh8J4KZYdRxaQus2i9FcsRHOs-1ecReYwhIhipzPRW3pT-hQ/s1600-h/skins.gif"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5084393624141882098" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioWqxxFO3GjqiA1CA5aJxzOPmKrI3vdSXLR9NSjl3Km57ZZXUqg-jJVdfCarjJzpUnP34x2J5rN2Sgzub6SUO6OTBh8J4KZYdRxaQus2i9FcsRHOs-1ecReYwhIhipzPRW3pT-hQ/s320/skins.gif" border="0" /></a> I was in Melbourne for a few weeks in May this year and as a Queenslander I struggled with the cold. Eventually I solved the problem, Skins. The benefits of Skins for recovery are widely published and I've heard many people praise their benefits to this extent. My first experience with them however was as training attire. Running and cycling in Melbourne I was layering myself up until I almost couldn't bend. I obtained some Skins which kept me warm as an inner layer without getting sweaty. <div> </div><div></div><div>I've now got top and bottom skins and I use them in almost every training session. I feel they assist with posture and warmth and afterwards my recovery from running. For cycling I wear them under my arm and leg warmers during cold weather. I'm finally winning against the cold.</div><div></div><div>Finally, after running the Gold Coast Marathon earlier this week, I can testify from personal experience that they aid recovery. Some of the aching in my legs was removed immediately when I put them on to sleep that night. I can't explain why but I felt it. </div><div> </div><div></div><div><strong>Felt - B2</strong></div><div></div><div>I'm now riding the latst B2 Model Felt. After a year on my S22 Felt, it's taking a little while to get used to a new set up. I'm also coming out of a rest period and I feel I need to earn my position on this bike. I seem to be getting stronger quickly though so I think we have to attribute half of that to the bike. </div><div></div><div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35766012.post-2045605682783430502007-07-07T17:34:00.000+09:302007-07-30T18:23:12.265+09:30<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsMphrFpLgtWC3Qs66_fRjxJCkgqzw5AAKgvoB_plR-6hX766kf3PPgNgcSorxUFVUjnyg33LahEf_BXpguOH_adSUV6qUAj-n1S2iP6clvlszFfmNV5q2J9Y9Y-LpohVUX8S19A/s1600-h/GC+Marathon+Photo+Cert.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5092909551555673762" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsMphrFpLgtWC3Qs66_fRjxJCkgqzw5AAKgvoB_plR-6hX766kf3PPgNgcSorxUFVUjnyg33LahEf_BXpguOH_adSUV6qUAj-n1S2iP6clvlszFfmNV5q2J9Y9Y-LpohVUX8S19A/s320/GC+Marathon+Photo+Cert.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div><strong>Gold Coast Marathon: July 07</strong><br /><strong>3hrs 10 minutes</strong><br /><strong><br /></strong>About 3,000 people ran the marathon this year and over 16,000 were involved in the events. I had a good day. Two years earlier I ran my first marathon here, and this time it was a pleasure to watch the kilometre markers drift past in a much healthier state. Ironman has made me appreicate that any kilometre you've already run in a marathon is one you don't have to walk if everything suddenly goes wrong. </div><br /><div></div><div>I'm now very appreciative of those "bad days". The most important thing about them is they are in the past. I've done the suffering, I've been to that place and all that they can do for me now is remind me that I've been in worst situations than this. So I'll take the good out of them now.</div><br /><div></div><div>There was a huge contingent from Central Queensland at the events. The Frenchville Frogs Triathlon Club, Gladstone Roadrunners and Rockhampton Roadrunners were all out in force. A happy reunion for those of us living in different places.<br /><br /><strong>Mount Perry 6 Hour Enduro Mountain Bike Race</strong><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-kMo416LrLb40aUKL-u7wHf1twis6-ClUnIyEhIi1-1wJi_OGjxJEy5t5CEXN3UNYjMrYRFxLIa7UQZ_TZ31q1HNcHqkKT6lhQd88hjfyfQiO7utVLLEKf2ALSm0m6l5PaVCukw/s1600-h/Mt+Perry.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5084377702698115810" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-kMo416LrLb40aUKL-u7wHf1twis6-ClUnIyEhIi1-1wJi_OGjxJEy5t5CEXN3UNYjMrYRFxLIa7UQZ_TZ31q1HNcHqkKT6lhQd88hjfyfQiO7utVLLEKf2ALSm0m6l5PaVCukw/s320/Mt+Perry.JPG" border="0" /></a>My introduction to mountain bike racing,came four days after I was introduced to mountain biking. I got a Felt Hard Tail, with a team issue frame and snazy componentry. The bike was definitely the strenth of the team, as my mountain biking skills left a lot to be desired.<br /><br />The event was really well organised, well attended and really, really friendly. Out there on the course everybody was polite and supportive. I guess the suvival element of the sport makes it a bit more condusive to comradory during events. I think I ended up doing nine laps of the course and I fell off a similar number of times. However, I did improve througout the event so the majority of these falls were in the first laps.<br /><br /><strong>Port Macquarie Ironman, April 2007 </strong><br /><strong>10hrs 13mins</strong><br /><br />I had a tough day. Maybe I rode to hard, maybe I didn't have enough electrolyte, maybe my training wasn't good enough, maybe I just muddled something up. Whatever the reasons, I started the marathon feeling quite wrong and after a bit more running I started feeling even more wrong. It was my longest time yet for an Ironman but it didn't detract from the satisfaction at all. Race day is about pushing myself to my limit, and if I do that I give myself a 10. My first comment after the finish line was "I don't care what the clock says, I never expected to get through that thing, I did and I'm proud of myself." Of course however I have to look for the learnings and whilst some of them appeared immediately, others turn up a little later. Reflecting now, I feel fortunate for my "bad days," because they're the ones that make me appreciate the good ones.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35766012.post-1162452274002196202006-11-02T16:42:00.000+09:302006-11-02T17:04:02.356+09:30<span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;">I really want to say thankyou to everyone for following my race in Hawaii. It's so lovely how much support I have had . As I ran across those lava fields I thought "I just have to keep the numbers coming, so they pop up on the screens and everyone knows I'm ok." It really was a little scarey out there seeing so many super fit people looking very unhealthy and traumatised. I never took it for granted that I was going to finish that race. </span><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"><br /></span><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"><br />It was an unusual build up to a race. I flew to Hawaii the Sunday before and just after landing, our upbeat, American pilot mentioned something about the airport power being out. We were stuck in our plane for two more hours and gradually the story became more dramatic. There was a major earthquake off the coast of Kona and all power to the main island was down.<br /><br />Twelve hours later, I finally got out of the airport on a plane to Kona. By that time the airport was well into refugee camp mode, we'd been surviving on Red Cross handouts and "tropical punch" with 5% fruit juice in airport sized containers. It put me in an appreciative mindset for the rest of the week. </span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"><br />The words "we're lucky" popped up in my head again and again that week as I enjoyed the beautiful surroundings and saw friends doing the same. The training was all behind, and it was just the experience to be enjoyed. Everyone I met was in the same position, and it was so good to look around and see so many people who had worked so hard, enjoying themselves and enjoying each other.<br /><br />Triathlons are such lovely events. Even the Ironman, which is an extreme version, has a kind of balance to it provided by the integration of three sports into one. In the days before the race, we swam, we rode and I'll just say we trotted along adjusting to the heat. We drank coffee, we swapped stories, we got to hang out with other people just like us. Just like any other triathlon, we got to enjoy the giant festivity that was unfolding. Kona was buzzing with colourful clad enthusiastic people. As well as the 1,700 competitors, there were over 4,000 volunteers involved in the event. These people were equally enthusiastic about it all and many would come back year after year.<br /><br />I felt lucky in the event. Lucky, that everything was hanging together. Lucky to have retained my health into the run that was tearing people apart all around me. Lucky not to be walking. Again and again, lucky not to be walking. It was hot, the hardest part of the course was the long, never ending highway that in fact lead to the hardest part of the course. It's hard to stay positive when you know you are still running towards the "energy lab,". The energy lab is located right in the black, lava, fields and all sorts of experiments are done there with the extreme temperatures.</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"><br />Not many memories from the actual run, my mind shuts down a bit, but in the last 15kms my mind went into temptress mode. It wasn't telling me I had to walk, it was telling me how nice it would be to walk. I agreed but said to myself, "no, you'll enjoy that later."<br /><br />The last mile of the race I owe to my friend Amanda, who must have been leaping a metre in the air at the top of the last hill where I had one mile to go. She said "Prue, she's 4 minutes in front and she's walking, you have to try and catch her." There was no way that I could, but there was no way I could ignore Amanda. I got to take off and sprint down the last hill and it felt amazing. Lucky me.<br /><br />I know hard work plays a part in this luck, but I think the hard work gets you to the start line and gives you the opportunity to have a good day, it doesn't guarantee you'll have a good day. Ironman is such a long event that the opportunity for things to go wrong is quite large. Everyone worked hard to get to that event but only some of us got to be lucky on the day.<br /><br />One impression that has remained from that run, is the strength of the people around me. Whilst many walked, none of them were giving up, they were all getting there in one way or another and if they were walking it was because they had to walk not because they chose to.<br /><br />When I passed some of the professional women and men who started 15 minutes ahead of us, it was obvious these people were having their "bad day." It made me realise how much they push themselves in these events. Whilst some of us have the luxury of racing cautiously to guarantee a smile at the finish, many of the professionals have to risk it all and aim for that fine line of using everything by the finish. They in fact have a greater chance of having a very miserable day.<br /><br />But the human spirit prevails. My dilemma at one stage was knowing what to say to those close to me who had a bad day. I spoke to my coach about it after and he said, "badluck," but followed it up by pointing out that Triathletes are fairly hardy, resilitent people and they do bounce back. After the awards ceremony I had the courage to ask one of the professionals I'd been through the airport saga with, if he was very disappointed. He said, "yeah, I trained really hard for this one." I felt very sad for him but he's had a few bad races at Hawaii, and I asked if he'd try it again, with a little grin, he nodded, and already he was enjoying the celebrations.<br /><br />So yes, by the night after, most people I knew had worked through their "bad day" into a learning experience, and those fortunate enough to have a good day, were still having problems not smiling. It is a great testimony to the sport and the people. The number's really only describe a fraction of the different achievements of that day. We all did well.<br />So, I'm a little bit wiser, a little bit sillier, a little bit stronger and a little bit weaker now. I'm a bit rested and I'm a bit eager.</span><br /><br /></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35766012.post-1160706013736461182006-10-13T11:42:00.000+09:302006-10-13T11:50:13.743+09:30<div align="center"><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2611/3985/1600/swimbikerun.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2611/3985/320/swimbikerun.jpg" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#33cc00;">This is Me. Basically I like to swim, cycle and run a very long way, and maybe even a little further than I'd like to go. Probaly where it all gets a bit silly. I did my first Ironman Event Last Year at Port Macquarie - 3.8km swim, 180km bike, 42.2 km run.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#33cc00;"></span> </div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#33cc00;"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2611/3985/320/IM%20Certificate.jpg" border="0" /></span></div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35766012.post-1160695005607552092006-10-13T08:39:00.000+09:302006-10-13T08:46:45.613+09:30<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2611/3985/1600/Run%20shot.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2611/3985/320/Run%20shot.jpg" border="0" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35766012.post-1160689136666173902006-10-13T07:04:00.000+09:302006-10-13T07:08:56.666+09:30<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2611/3985/1600/Interview.0.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2611/3985/320/Interview.0.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#ff0000;">A little dubious about my ability to put a sentence together after finishing the Rydges Half Ironman in August. </span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35766012.post-1160688893514669212006-10-13T07:03:00.000+09:302006-10-13T07:04:53.516+09:30<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2611/3985/1600/bike.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2611/3985/320/bike.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#ff6600;"><strong>My Team Mate!</strong></span></p><p><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#ff6600;">We're off to Hawaii</span></strong></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35766012.post-1160687850797900262006-10-13T06:42:00.000+09:302006-10-13T06:47:30.803+09:30<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2611/3985/1600/Tannum%20Running.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2611/3985/320/Tannum%20Running.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#ff6600;">Our local Race! </span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#ff6600;">TheTannum Sands Triathlon</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#ff6600;">October 2006</span></strong>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com