Lone wolf in a lone wolf pack

One of my favourite movies from 2009 was 'The Hangover'. Without a doubt it was the perfect bucks weekend and should I get the opportunity to have one then I hope it plays out something like it did in this movie. One of the lines early in the movie was 'I was a lone wolf in a lone wolf pack'. It was made by a character that had he not been part of the family he would never have been invited on such a trip. He was explaining (quite humorously) that he never felt like he fitted in and finally he did - out of politeness.

We are tribal by nature. We wear the colours of our team or sing the songs of our club and country. People attend church and political rallies and are indoctrinated into disliking or not trusting competitor companies. Many have sacrificed their life in the name of tribalism. I now find myself part of a new tribe and it has forced me to have a deeper think about why and how this happened. My new tribe is the gaggle of people I train with on the weekends. The people I slug it out with for hours at a time in the pursuit of the perfect Ironman. It (being part of a tribe) is a primitive yet imperative part of out survival and evolution as a species. Being part of a tribe meant that people could have different jobs within the group so we all didn't have to be concerned with collecting food and staying safe. Being part of a tribe is to be human and important and perhaps many of societies ills are a result of people feeling disaffected and not belonging to any tribe. These people are left on the outer. These are the people who may wish harm on themselves or others - the bullied becomes the bully.

I remember seeing a BBC doco about cooperation with chimps. The study found that 2 chimps would solve a problem and cooperate to get the booty (banana). This worked each time until only one of the chimps got the banana and the other missed out. The chimp that missed out refused to help the next time around - a single event which resulted in one chimp missing out on the reward was enough to condition that chimp into not helping again. The author concluded that this is where humans evolved and chimps didn't - humans would still help for the good of the tribe and chimps would always require the extrinsic motivator. And this is where the doco and I parted agreement. Perhaps it is right in many cases however I suspect we still carry this legacy of our distant ancestors. We all turn up each Saturday knowing that the group helps each of us and when it doesn't serve our needs we do our own thing. Today I did my own thing and hence became the lone wolf in a lone wolf pack. I hope this doesn't go against my record and I can still wear the club colours at the ironman!

The last couple of weeks have been the usual turbulent 'days of our lives' journey towards Port. Only 3 days before my last big hit-out before the Ironman I was getting blood taken from me and put into vials for testing. I was left completely depleted and virtually unable to move for a few days following a Saturday session. This wasn't just a matter of being sore or tired it was more like systemic inflammation, leaving me with asthma and soft tissue and joint pain. Like the half ironman my ITB was as tight as fat person's jocks. I tried to go for a jog on the Tuesday before, only being able to get to a canter for a couple of k's before being reduced to a slow walk. Things slowly improved and on the Saturday I was able to get a light jog and ride in. I was not expecting anything great from the next day's race which doubled as the 'Australian long course championships'.

My race wasn't actually that bad in the end. I was still flat which mainly affected my swim and ride, and somehow I perked up for run (thanks caffeine!). I ended up in 28th place. Initially I was somewhat disappointed however upon reflection I realised that what I have done is fantastic. I have come from hell a year and bit ago. I have lost 28kg. I have retrained my mind and reshaped my body. I have prepared to complete my first Ironman and in the process taken 28th place overall in the Australian long course championships (2km swim, 83km ride, 20km run). And with that, I got on a plane for Port Douglas and spent the next week on conference and training in a tropical wet season.

This weekend's training was virtually the same as everyone of the last 12 weeks - heaps of it. I have 28 days to go so my priority is to get and stay healthy. Nothing stupid - just take the K.I.C. approach (keep it corporate) and keep my head low. Until next time - au revoirre.

Defining success

So just what is it to be successful? The obvious examples I think that most would give are probably concerned with comparing a person with someone else. "Wow Johnny you beat everyone in your race. You're so successful!". I am sure success is often considered on achievement of an award or standard. Maybe these examples are OK however I would like offer an alternative to the definition of success. This isn't a "I can't win so let's lower the bar success" rather perhaps more rigorous and difficult to attain. If one considers the starting point of any task then measures success based on the difference between this and the finish then you may find a starkly different group of people that you consider to be successful. I'll give an example...

I went to the University of Western Sydney and studied to become a teacher. I received my degree a few years later and did in fact become a teacher. Many of my friends at Uni were part of the first generation in their families to do this, unlike myself and others who had parents with a degree. I would argue that being first generation degreed is more successful than second as the gap is wider. My father may define success - he grew up in a 2 bedroom housing commission home with 2 siblings. He did his leaving certificate 3 times to get a high enough score to go to teachers college. He then went on to have a long and happy career as a teacher in some of Sydney's less affluent suburbs. The gap between his start and finish is far, far wider than my own. Society may argue that a lawyer is more successful than a teacher. I reckon my dad is more successful than most high court judges!

The reason I thought about this was the result of a few remarks I've had recently about my size. I have had a few mates suggest that I need to lose more weight. I spent the 11 years prior to the events in Mumbai working-out to become a big forward for Rugby Union. I managed to get up to 106kg and I am sure that most would have come off second best in a contact on the pitch (if I say so myself!) Following Mumbai I made a transition back to an earlier love of mine, triathlon. I started training to complete an ultra distance triathlon (Ironman). I am now less than 6 weeks away from this and I have (so far) got down to 79kg. That's a loss of 27kg. In the process I have ridden over 9000km, run over 2500km and swam about 500km. Now I am not saying that I wouldn't love to win my age group in the Port Ironman or get a spot for Hawaii because I would. I love to compete. I am just feeling pretty successful having achieved what I have. There is no medal, no pay cheque or no article in the newspaper about it yet I still feel remarkably successful. To do well at the competition would be icing on the cake. The journey so far has been my defining story.

My training was going great until last Saturday. I did something I have done before and gone too hard for too long without adequate recovery. It has cost me another few days of training as I can't even get up to a canter at the moment. My fault. I accept it and as soon as I am done feeling like this I will be back... and unfortunately, I will probably do it again!

I am nervous, I am excited, I am healthy, I am sick, I am certain, I am unsure, I am living.

4 weeks into camp

I can't believe my last post was 4 weeks ago. This simply means that training is going well. So well in fact that I am too shattered most days to even think of something to write let-a-lone participate in the act of blogging. A Lazy Sunday afternoon has finally arrived and with it the opportunity to get this thing up to date.

I will start by saying that each Saturday for the last 4 weeks I have gone to bed knowing that I have just completed the toughest day of training in my life. I can only imagine what I will be thinking in 7 weeks from now... I will also point out that this weekend I was reminded what little control we have over some events - more on that later...

My key sessions are:
Tuesday - double run
Friday- swim, Long hills ride and Run
Saturday- Long firm ride + run, swim
Sunday- long ride.

Amongst all of this during the week are treadmill runs, swim sessions, light rides and runs. All up leaving me pretty smashed most of the time.

The week just gone may give a good insight into my training for my first ever attempt at an Ironman distance triathlon.

Monday PM swim ~ 4km including plenty of kick and drills (just what my legs felt like after 400km of riding over the weekend!).
Tuesday - run ~30km in the Glenbrook national park as part of the Australia Day fatass event (thanks to the organisers of this I loved it) and a firm 14km in the arvo on a treadmill (It would have looked pretty ugly to anyone else in the gym at the time - I was in a world of hurt). Wednesday AM swim ~ 3.5km, again drills and a decent main set.
Thursday - Swim ~4km, Ride ~130km including 2 laps of Old Bathurst Rd, and a lap each of lapstone hill and Bellbird hill over in Kurrajong. (mountain climbs) and 13km on a treadmill at my optimal fat oxidising Heart Rate - these runs can get boring as I basically have to get to a speed and only shift it by .1km/hr as needed to keep my HR constant.
Friday- I switched Friday for Thursday this week due to a work commitment so only a got in a 70min hills run in the morning.
Saturday- 140km firm ride with P.I.S. (Penrith Institute of Sport) followed by Run -10 x 1 mile repeats and a 3 x 1km swims.
Sunday- 160km firm ride (with P.I.S.) taking me up to Bell and all the hills and mountain climbs it includes.

And now I get to relax... Tomorrow AM it all starts again...

I am starting to feel OK on Mondays. From Wk 1-4 I was tired, grumpy and moody for the first day of the working week. (I generally stayed that way until Thursday- sorry colleagues). Wk 5-8 has seen a remarkable improvement in my adaptation to training - and mood. Next week is the beginning of wk 9 and it marks the beginning of the heavy 4 weeks that is February... I am slightly nervous but really looking forward to finding out what more I can do.

I had 2 unfortunate experiences over the weekend which again reminded me what little control we have over so many things. The first was something simple yet it required myself and a whole bunch of other people to get their wheels trued. A cyclist in front of me didn't see a crater the size of the grand canyon- he managed to narrowly avoid it while the rest of us rolled on in. Their was plenty of cursing as the sound of one bike after another took the same route. Bottles went everywhere and bikes had to be ridden for remaining 100km on wobbly wheels. The next unfortunate incident occurred about 150km into today's ride. About 15 of us were just finishing up a tough, wet day in the mountains. At about 60km/hr the cyclist behind me clipped my wheel. He went over his bars and skidded along the highway but was OK. The physical damage was done to my new machine - he disintegrated my back wheel - it was a twisted mess of broken spokes. I can't believe I didn't have a fall. Thanks to Sleeptrain for picking my wet sorry ass up and getting me back home. As far as stacks go these were both very mild however the last one particularly has been a timely reminder of how potentially fragile we are. Also... very glad I can still get out on my road bike while the boys at Panther Cycles get my TT bike back on the road.

2009- My Year in Review

The biggest lessons come from the most extraordinary of circumstances. The past year has been my most significant in terms of personal growth. It could never have happened without the 3 or 4 years I struggled through before finding myself running and hiding from a terrorist in November last year (2008). I truly had to bottom out before I could begin my ascent.

The fading light of 2008 saw the ushering out of a period in my life that I was glad to see the back of. It was happening like so many new years eves previous; a few drinks with friends before heading down to see the fireworks display on the river. I was still pretty shaken up from the events in Mumbai a little over a month before however I had taken some pretty positive steps and I felt like I had turned a corner. I had every reason to celebrate - I was alive and I was with good friends. We finished up at the holiday house and began making our way down to the river to see the fireworks. I was a few steps behind my friends and feeling pretty pleased with life when I heard a 'boom' then 'crack, crack, crack'. I froze. I knew (rationally) what I heard was peaceful however hearing this brought back the recent memories of Mumbai. My 2009 began with tears streaming down my face. I was frozen in fear. Not exactly how I had planned to start a year that I anticipated was going be great. I know that we often use the new year as a starting and stopping point for things however i was clearly in a 'through' point. This turned out to be one of three major episodes of post traumatic stress that I would go on to experience. My good friend Lins realised I wasn't with them and figured out pretty quickly what was happening and came back to help. I had to go through the next two on my own. They were both fairly similar experiences which I thought someone was shooting at my house. I again thought it probably PTS but it was so real I had to get certainty. On one occasion I layed and waited until daylight before going outside to see if there were any bullet holes in my walls or empty casings on the road. Like with so many other things in life I needed some help. I did exactly that and thankfully loud noises gradually became just that and not a threat to my life.

From here I basically got my head down and trained. I got plenty of things wrong like doing too much, going too hard or the opposite in some cases. I got sick, I got healthy again. I won my age in the Dean and Dave race triathlon which doubled as my birthday in April - my best one yet. I got a third in the 30-34 in the Port Half Ironman. I was starting to get fit again. I would wake up every morning throughout winter and be excited to get out training. It had taken on a whole new meaning. No longer was training about winning races (though this was on my mind). Training was food for my soul. I particularly loved the winter runs with the Blue Mountains Marathon Clinic (BMMC). At that time of the year we would stop and have a stretch at one of the lookouts on our run and see the sunrise over a chilly Sydney. We would then descend into the Nepean basin before returning up the escarpment to start another working day. This is why I now run and how I live the 'healthy mind, healthy body' mantra.

I am now less than 14 weeks from my first Ironman. I am training really well and resting when I need to. I have also managed to drop ego from my training as I keep my eyes firmly fixed on the prize. A couple of weeks ago I had a big week of training finishing up with a firm 110km lap of cobbity (bike obviously) on Saturday. In the afternoon we had the Matt Fisher race (unofficially now). It was my first one as I quit triathlons after he was fatally hit by a car out riding in 1998. I thought of him the whole race. I also felt how much pain I was in as the morning ride and week of hard training made it's way to my atherant senses. Man it hurt. Again I loved it. I got out for a 25km run the next morning and gave myself the afternoon off. The next week was also a good week of training before another solid weekend. Saturday started with a 110km easy bike with the fist, 10km run off bike and 3km bridge to bridge swim in the river. Sunday The fist and I rode the 160km loop which takes us to Bell and Mt Vic along Bells Line of Road. It is without doubt my favourite ride. It would want to be as we will be doing it every Sunday until the Ironman! I have also began to incorporate 'double run tuesday' into my program. It includes a 2hr+ run in the morning and a 1hour solid run in the afternoon. Talk about opening up your 'hurt locker'!

I have to go and meet the fist for a swim and ride now. Merry Christmas, Happy New Year and remember 'dream, believe, create, succeed' - Marc Allen

Surrender

I've had an amazing few weeks. In essence the last leg of my journey to IMoz has begun.... Today we are down to 14 weeks, 5 days and man they will fly (and hurt).

This post in titled 'Surrender'. So many of our words have negative connotations when in fact they mean something so wonderfully positive. An example is the word 'no' - learning to say it is perhaps the most positive and powerful thing a person can do. I sometimes I wish I had learnt to use it a long time ago; I would have prevented many hangovers! To surrender is to accept what it is you cannot change, or in some cases such as training for the ironman, to accept that this is my life and I want it. I first read about this in a book from south Asia titled 'surrender to your marriage'. By surrendering to things we cannot change we are better apt to take control of what we can. Simply put, I have surrendered to the next 15 weeks. I know that I have embarked on a trip of a lifetime. One I am sure will be a part of my DNA for the rest of my days. I have resigned to the fact that Christmas will probably be a lap of bell, a gatorade and a few gels to celebrate. This is my life now. The funny thing is, I have never felt more in control, healthier or happier. I think my life has become extremely simple - sleep, eat, train and work thrown-in for good measure. Incidently, I am enjoying my work more than ever.

Pictures: 'brothers in arms' the Flying Fist and The Animal on the way to Bundeena. (top) and Scam Bullant leading the way along one of the beach sections of the run.

A couple of weeks ago the last leg of this prep for IMoz began. It is hard to say exactly what day that actually was however I would like it to begin with a the BMMC day out - 29km run from Otford to Bundeena. It was extraudinary. Rugged cliffs, ocean, wildlife all within a coastal national park. On a beautiful day. Thanks for organising this Scam - you are truly the man when it comes to getting our group out and about. From there it (my training) has stepped up. A day out fishing after the run, with P Ryan and on Sunday we headed out for a 120k ride then a I went on a 15k run in the Glenbrook Nat park. The usual swims, BMMC runs and riding Laps of the Hakesbury bends with the Fist followed. Then last weekend perhaps the beginning of the end of feeling healthy! 160k lap of bell, 3k swim Saturday, 25k run and 110k ride on Sunday - man it was hot! Both rides with the Fist - He's riding well. It's good to have someone to go through this with. Much like the experience in India, this is a personal journey made better by being able to share it with someone.

I have truly surrendered to this. It made it easier to drag my butt to the pool this arvo.

'til death do we part

The title ' 'til death do we part' is a common phrase used in marriage vows and it this concept of 'permanence' I seek to understand and maybe even challenge. I mean at what point were we told that anything is permanent? This is treading on Buddhist territory now but I do think there is some relevance in what it is I am about to discuss.

I completed the Port Half IM about a month ago and for a few weeks following I struggled both physically and emotionally to train. My knees would blow up, my ITB was tight and causing considerable pain, I had the pain of losing a toenail (another to follow soon). My motivation to keep going through this has been tested. I can say this has passed now and perhaps why I am now able to reflect on the last 4 weeks. Two things stand out for me at this point which have helped considerably in me getting my mojo back for training for IM Aus in 16 weeks and 3 days from now. The first comes from a conversation I had with an elderly couple in Coonabarrabran a few years ago. The second was from a vision I had while out training prior to the half IM.

I met the elderly couple the first time as I was leaving a one of my customer's surgery. We had a bit of a chat then but it wasn't until 12 weeks later when again I was leaving my customer's surgery and again I bumped into this couple did we have a long chat. I asked this obviously in love couple how they had a marriage which had survived many of life's tough events through out their 60 years of this institution. The wife quite candidly replied "we never fell out of love with each other at the same time". This was made so matter-of-fact and it didn't raise an eyebrow from her husband. I have had a few years to think about this comment, it's honesty and openness. Something that perhaps would only come from a couple of that vintage from the country. Either way I was able to learn so much from these people. I relate this to much of my life and through this that I have come to understand the concept of permanence. It has helped me to try to live more existentially. It has also helped me get through this 4 weeks where I have been tested. I may have been falling out of love with the thought of 20 more weeks of training. Fortunately the sport of triathlon, through my training buddies, panthers club members and the experience of nature endured and 'our marriage' survived. I am now physically recovered and motivated and ready for this part of the journey.

The second thing that helped me came from a vision I had. Before I explain the vision I need to give a little more background. Liv and I were only metres from the gunman in the terrorist attacks in Mumbai. The gunman stood up and after sitting in Cafe Leopold for about 10 minutes and proceeded to fire his automatic weapon at all that moved. Liv and I survived because we were on the outside of the cafe and we able to run and hide in a nearby stairwell. My mate and I had only been seconds from being the 2 guys looking for a seat. I have had to come to some understanding why we were not inside. Why someone else was the first person shot. Why we survived. I will never know the answer for certain however I do know why we were held up on the way to this place. A man in a wheel chair approached me while we were walking down a busy Mumbai street. I was pretty keen to get to the cafe and have a reprieve from the heat, the beggars, the crowds and more importantly, have a beer. I explained to this fella I couldn't help him but he persisted. 'I don't want money' he said. I looked at him he asked simply for some food. 'Of course I can' I replied before getting a chicken schwarma from a nearby street cook. This whole process took around 10 minutes. I remember his large, bright smile as he thanked me for his food. I felt a little embarrassed that it took him a few attempts; I am so glad he persisted with me. My buddy liv told me then and there that I had just earned a credit in heaven. How prophetic he was.

The vision I refer to happened one day during a really tough and long ride leading up to the half IM. I sometimes think about still. It was of this man sitting in his wheelchair, his smiling grateful face is exactly as I remembered it only this time he is with my Mum. They are both there together, healthy, happy and looking out for me. On the day I had this vision I needed some help as I was struggling. I now know that I have been getting this help for a long time. It was so needed on that awful night in Mumbai 12 months ago. I owe this man my life and he has no idea. Or just maybe, he does. This has truly helped me through the last 4 weeks.

I can't not train. I am alive, I am fit and I owe this to myself. The next 16 weeks are going to be quite a trip.

The First Hurdle

What a week!

I have to admit that I was a little apprehensive before the Half Ironman last weekend. This was going to be my first chance to pop my head up for breath, recover and get a pulse check on how my transition from a rugby union forward to an ironman triathlete was progressing. We had a club race the week before and I felt pretty shattered before, during and for a good few days after. I knew I had to rest, I needed to listen to my body, something that I have only learnt with age. So I did just that. The week prior to Port I did very little in the way of training- a couple of runs, a swim and a ride. The remainder of the time was spent stretching and watching DVDs. I was so nervous for the whole week. My ITB was as tight as a guitar string, I just hoped that it would come good. It did.

We (Dr Phil and I) checked our bikes in and attended the pre-race briefing on Saturday along with the other 800 competitors. The sun was out, the mood was great and I was feeling fresh for the first time in ages. We then went back to our hotel had a small meal, watched the wallabies get trounced then slept. We were a little under 10 hours from the start of the 1.9km swim, 90.1km ride and 21.1 run. I forgot how alive I feel prior to a race. The 5am rides on the below zero, windy, rainy mornings throughout winter were for this and I loved it.

Everything went smoothly on race morning. The wettie felt like a second skin as we made our way down to the deep water start. I looked around at the other 800 bodies as they waved about to stay afloat before the gun went off, and I soaked up this moment. The last time I heard a gun was in a starkly different circumstance and it made me feel so unbelievably grateful to be there, my first (racing) hurdle for the big one in March. The swim was as busy and congested around the first buoy as I remember. It took a few whacks to my head and the swimming over of a few triatheletes that had mistakingly thought that self seeding meant getting a good start on their competition by putting themselves at the front, before we settled into a pace. Poor buggars.

I exited the water in a time I was expecting to do however I wasn't expecting to feel as good as what I did. I swam within myself and was more than ready for the ride. A quick transition (shoes in the right peddles this time!) and I was on the road. I reeled in one after another of the quicker swimmers and looked around and about 20 of them had managed to hang on by the 30km mark! I was feeling great, then it happened, the draft-buster rode his motorbike up to me and pointed a yellow card at me and asked if I understood what that meant. I pleaded ignorance, then swore, then accepted that I was spending 5 minutes in the penalty box before the next lap. I was so dirty with it. I wasn't drafting, never have. I had no choice but to keep going and surrender to my fate. With that I put my head down and dropped that group who later passed and waved as they spotted myself and 4 others in the box of shame (including BMMC's own Dr Phil!) This experience ended up being a good one for many reasons. Firstly I am glad that it happened in this, the dress rehearsal and not the full ironman in March. Secondly it was another reminder that things don't always go to plan, I would have to deal with this and get on with it. There was no point brooding over it. Lastly a little humour went a long way as I pointed out to the other 'detainees' that the 5 of us could get back together and ride down that bunch! I think the official circled my number on his pad at that point.

Once out of the clink I got back on with my race, this time was actually quite nice as I could get on riding without so many cyclists hanging on. Then before I knew it, it was T2 and time to run the half marathon. The temperature was rising as the numbers in front of me dropped away. One by one I again began the task of reeling in as many of the others who got a 5 minute advantage on me. I felt strong for the whole of the run. It was hot, it was hard and it hurt like hell, but I felt strong. Crossing the line in a time I had hoped for was great but even better was knowing that my metamorphasis was complete. I knew at this point that I was ready to start preparing for the big one in March.

The drinks after the race tasted sweet. I got a chance to catch up with some old friends I haven't seen since my last race 11 or 12 years ago. I also had a chance to be by myself and reflect on the last 12 months. I am deep in a journey, I am in recovery and I am so grateful to be here. Ironman Australia here I come.