As I've detailed before, I made the risky decision back in March to quit my job and begin training full time as a Triathlete to become an "Elite" triathlete. At the time I was stressed out about the lack of direction I had in my job and overwhelmed by the feeling I was welcome where I was working and seeing trust in me being eroded on a daily basis. There was a song on the radio that whenever it came on would calm me, allow me to escape from the situation and dream of what could be.
To me it spoke of a conceptual place where people who have grown up, realised themselves, or achieved something were. I was not there. In the song, it talks of trying to reach this point by overcoming struggles, taking the risk of the initial step and escaping the things we have laid in our path to prevent ourselves from getting there.
The last four lines were magical to me. The darkness I left in was the risk I was taking of having no fixed income. The place I'd never seen was Elite triathlon. I'd heard about it, I'd watched the Pro's, my friends had been racing it for years, but I'd never been a part of it and barely had any clue what it involved. Since I was a child I wanted to be an athlete, I had ignored so many opportunities in my life for fear of them impeding my progression to this level of the sport. It was where I felt I should be.
You can imagine the poetry in where I was racing then, pushing myself to my limits on a course littered with lanterns...
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| Racing under these five times: 3 on the bike, 2 on the lap. |
Race morning was quite easy and relaxed. Breakfast opened with it's usually bizarre food and I chowed down on a meal that closely resembled the fried rice I normally have, while the others stared in disbelief at their options, barely eating anything.
I mentioned in my last post how I'd been having trouble with my Blood Glucose levels. If I didn't get these right, there would be very little point even trying in the race. As I went to bed the night prior, it was ok. But during the night it rose to a HI level, so I had some more insulin to bring it down. When I woke up it was still HI! The different styles of cooking was really annoying me now, but about an hour after breakfast I had it at a normal, non-diabetic level for the first time in a few days - HOORAY! Fortunately I managed to keep it at this level for the last test 30 mins before the start. I was stunned by my management skills to then have it barely drop at all during the race.
One of the big differences between ITU Elite racing is that you all get an "Athlete Lounge" that you will often be marshalled in for the race start. From here they will regularly play a nerve wracking heartbeat to some inspiring, instrumental backing piece. It is well known throughout ITU racing for it's ability to silence the crowd and turn the atmosphere up to the intensity of a world cup soccer penalty kick, that the ITU regularly monitors Youtube to prevent it from being duplicated. Obviously the Chinese couldn't get their hands on it, so we got to come out to this:
Fortunately, we got to sit around for 15mins before each of our numbers got called and we scuttled down to our spot on the pontoon for the start and any giggling was overcome.
A pontoon start was a new one for me too, something I'd been looking forward to. Even at the World Champs in Auckland last year we weren't allowed to start on it, instead starting from in the water and holding it, doing a push start.
I got a great little dive and fly kicks, breaking the water nicely for my first strokes. I'd been told how important the swim to the first can was and evidently psyched myself up too much for it. While I was in the faster 10-15 over the first 100m, I blew up big time and found breathing very difficult until after the turning cans were finished, 400m in. From there I was able to get some rhythm back, but still swimming well below how I'd been training.
I still had some guys around me, so at least I wouldn't be riding solo.
The bike course can be seen here described as "flat".
It wasn't. But I guess the swim wasn't even close to wetsuit legal and the run had a nasty hill on each lap, but when you want a watch made with meticulous attention to detail, you go to Switzerland not China!
The course was constant bends and basically we weren't quite riding, just trying to hold speed through corners. Until we got this "flat" piece of road each lap.
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| One of the bends on the 5.5k descent |
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| Complete with safety mats |
The entire bike leg was spent with two Taipei guys, one of which didn't want to take turns after the first time up the climb. You couldn't see much more than 10 seconds in front of you which meant you had no idea where you were in relation to the rest of the race. We regularly saw riders popping up in front of us, each time given me a brief glimmer of hope that I would have at least one other person to share the work with, only for us to pass them and for them to disappear just as quickly as they had appeared.
Given the short nature of the race, I didn't have to worry about sugar during the race, but still had about 300ml of regular strength Gatorade on the bike.
The other big difference between ITU Elite racing and age group racing is transition. The norm is to not get a hanging bike rack, instead a "jam your wheel into the gap" rack and a box to put everything apart from your running shoes in or face a penalty of 15 seconds. I suppose there is also the fact that everyone at this level does a quick transition, including mounting and dismounting the bike, so I wasn't able to grab the small head start I normally do.
Out onto the run course and the real fun began! I recommend to anyone that can run a low 16min 5k or quicker to do the Noosa Bolt for the chance to run in front of a crowd of its size. While that course remains the wildest 5k I've done in my life, this one was easily the best triathlon run course I've ever done. The crowd was 5 deep on both sides for as much of the course as 5 deep fit. Where it didn't fit, they just climbed the cliffs and stood on outcrops.
I personally hated the song "Jai Ho", but I will admit that I'm thankful for it or I wouldn't have been able to understand the thousands of Jai Hos the crowd cheered for me. It was just cool that I was entirely insignificant in these people's lives, but for that one or two hours, I mattered.
Some of the crowd knew a little bit of English. You know how sometimes when people speak a different language, they baulk just before saying it to check that are about to say it correctly? Well, when the person you're cheering for is doing 5m each second, you have less than a second to get it out. To the lady who called out from behind me "You are well! Very well!", it was appreciated :D What I didn't really blow up about, but didn't quite enjoy was running along, trying to focus on my breathing and seeing a puff of great, big cigarette smoke drift in front of me. It was a constant and the only downside to the course.
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| Limited time to cheer or take a picture. My brother had trouble opening his eyes that day and perhaps not the best choice for photographer! |
I hadn't made any mistakes in transition or throughout the course, so the board was clear when I ran through to the finish which was lucky as I was in pursuit of two athletes. I had seen them from about a mile out from the finish. They had joined together and lifted their pace in an effort to beat each other. I was keen to catch them as no one had run past me, I was having fun, it's the whole point of racing and with every person I beat, I confirmed the reason for my existence in the race. My legs were running faster than I thought I wanted them too, but it's good when my sub-conscious triumphs over my conscious mind, as it's my biggest weakness. Nonetheless, for over a kilometre they had prevented me from gaining more than 5m on them, leaving 15-20m still to go at the penalty board and 400m to the finish.
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| Empty penalty board, always a good sign |
As we came under the lanterns for the final time I had a bit of luck. The Hong Kong athlete looked over his shoulder at me and basically gave up. Within 50m I had flown past him and was within 5m of the Taipei runner, trying to judge just when to hit him with the change of gears.
The finish was a sharp left turn, run through a corridor for 90m, sharp right for 10m, sharp right onto uneven pavement that had carpet over it, so you couldn't see where to step for 70m, then a complete 180degree turn with the same surface for 50m to the finish. I was right up on him at the very start and knowing the intricacies of u-turns in a sprint finish, as well as not trusting the surface and having a tide of momentum behind me (and the need to stave off an existential crisis), decided to hit him with a sprint as soon as I could. He seemed to have some brains too as he started to edge towards the inside corridor wall, attempting to block my path.
The walling were those metal crowd control barriers that stand on feet that jut out though, meaning he couldn't get a clean line against the wall. I'm an Australian and we win by taking advantage of everything we can. So in true John Bertrand fashion, I started my steeplechase career and just skipped over the barrier feet, somehow keeping the leg speed to overcome him and get the last two straights clear to myself!
Across the finish line, I received a medal. I've mentioned how I used to find medals as demeaning because it symbolised how little pride I had in my effort and the disappointment within myself that I hadn't prepared or tried hard enough. Well given this medal is the physical evidence of the exact opposite reason to why I hated medals, I'm keeping this sucker!!!!
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| Self worth confirmed :) |
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