Chrissie Wellington Blog

When the Boss told me to get my butt to Alpe D’Huez I was somewhat concerned. Although the 2007 race ended happily ever after I was still haunted by the level of masochism required, coupled with memories of my flying leap over a crash barrier and into a bush. But you don’t argue with the Boss. You just (Alpe) Do-It.  So on Monday I found myself aboard the chuffer to Gren-Nobble, where my close friend from Nepal-cum professional photographer Becky Marshall picked me up. And we set of like Thelma and Louise, complete with flowered headscarves (but unfortunately minus Brad Pitt) towards the Alpe.

For those who don’t know, the Alpe D’Huez Long Course Triathlon is akin to pulling your nails out with pliers. It hurts. A lot. The race comprises a 2.2km dip, a 115km bike that is up, up, and up, down, down, down, then up, up up, down down down, and finally up up up again (note: omission of the word ‘flat’) - the icing on the cake being the off/on road 22km run at 2000m, which again is up or…down (note: again, flat doesn’t feature). And to top it off, the powers that be decided it would be good for us to race in an oven. The thermometer topped 32degrees. Although my cheeks were probably close to self-combusting boiling point.

The day before was spent sharpening up with a swim, a bike (half the Alpe of course), a wee run and a press conference – finished with enough tuna pasta to sink a small ship. The race kicks off at the respectable hour of 9.30am (much better than an IM which always starts at the crack). I free-wheeled 25km down to the start, with my Birmingham Running and Triathlon Club (BRAT) buddies Robin and Megan, and once again realised that if I was to have any chance of winning the race I would have to improve my snail like descending skills and find some balls from somewhere.

 I was pretty pleased with my swim, which is in the stunning Verney’s Lake (14 degree ice bath = the wee in the wetsuit ‘heating’ technique was employed to full effect). I swam over a minute faster than last year, although I lost a bit of time trying to strip in T1. Regardless of how much lubrication I apply I always seem to have to do the funky chicken dance to extract Blue Seventy rubber from my ankles, but this was soon forgotten as I mounted my P2 and hit the hills.  I pushed it up the first 16km climb, the l’Alpe du Grand Serre, through beautiful alpine forest at an average of about 10%. At the top it was straight down. I must have had some balls for breakfast because, whilst not super speedy, I didn’t get an attack of the tortoise. Upon hitting the bottom I was climbing again, a long drag where I managed to overtake a few of the boys. Who didn’t smile at me.

Again, at the top of the Col the only way was down. Haunted by memories of last year’s near head on collision with a 4 wheel dive I decided to stay on the right side of the road, and managed to descend without any encounters with cars, crash barriers or bushes. The final climb is, of course, the infamous Alp D’Huez. It’s about 16km long, 21 hair pin bends and goes from 750m up to1850m (any more and I would have reached the moon). Luckily I still had some beans and grinded my way to the top, passing a few of the blokes and finding myself in 2^nd place overall. It was great to see all the Tour De France messages painted on the road, and the atmosphere was superb as I came into T2 with my bright red face.

The run is 22km and a mixture of tarmac and off road hiking path. Like the bike it is up and down, at 2000m. And hot enough to roast a chicken. I felt strong for the whole of the run, and thankfully my dodgy hamstring behaved itself and I didn’t end up jogging like a cowgirl. I ran 5 minutes faster than last year – starting off 7minutes behind the first guy (and eventual winner), Marcus Ornellas, and crossed the line with a gap of 1min23, and a beaming smile. The support from the crowds really was amazing, not to mention the post race feast which made the recovery much easier and gave me the fuel I needed to dance the funky chicken to the YMCA at the finish line all night long!

Congrats go out to my teammate Stevo who, despite running out of gas on the Alpe climb, managed to hang in there and post the fastest run split of the day – only two weeks after IM Austria, and to Bella for forcing me to cycle like a man woman. Of course, I want to thank the race organisers, Cyrille Neveu and Eric Le Pallemec, for everything they did to make the race such a success. It truly is an amazing event, and is getting bigger and better with each passing year (http://www.alpetriathlon.com). Merci beaucoup to all the great volunteers, especially Damien and Anthony, for being my beck-and-call boys. And a huge cheers to my wing-woman Becky who shoved a big lens in my face and captured me in all my sweaty, red faced glory. A selection of the photos (including a quality peachy butt shot and proof of my inability to dance) are on her website, but there are many more -  http://rebecca-marshall.jalbum.net/Chrissie_Huez/

……..and finally a HUGE congratulations to everyone who rose to the challenge, took on this legendary race and conquered the mighty Alpe!

This win is dedicated to my wonderful Nanna, who was diagnosed with cancer two weeks ago, and unfortunately passed away the day after the race. She was at the forefront of my mind from start to finish. I carry her spirit, energy and strength with me, and will do in the months and years ahead.

OK, so finally my hangover has cleared and I can just about string some sentences together!

Wow. What can I say?! Ironman Germany has to go down as one of the best and most memorable experiences I have ever ever had. The German passion and enthusiasm for the sport is unrivalled, and I revelled in the atmosphere that this passion generates.

I arrived in Frankfurt last Monday, 30 June - in time to attend the press conference the next day. It was funny because when Macca was talking about breaking the world record for the men, and I turned to Norman and said ‘What is the World Record for the women? Unfortunately he shook his head and said ‘i don’t know!’

I spent the rest of the week training, resting and eating a lot. The race organisers had given me a rather large passion pad at the Intercontinental that made me feel a bit like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman. Although it didn’t have a hot tub. Or Richard Gere. But it was the perfect place to watch my pirated collection of sex in the city dvds and listen to German commentary of Wimbledon. Das ist sehr gut. We found a great 50m open air pool to swim in most mornings (I was slightly disturbed by the German love of the speedo. Something that seems to have been relegated to the 1980 history books in most other countries, but is still worn with pride here). I also rode a lap of the course, and then part of it for all my other rides, so that gave me a nice taster of what was in store - although Hell Hill was rather more hellish during the race than it was in practice. The run was right in the centre of town, along either side of the river, so I could again pound the race pavements beforehand.

I went into the race feeling strong from a few months solid training in the mountains, although the thought of my hamstring injury did play a little on my mind. Thank the lord for hot water bottles, rubber pants, green clay and cling film. Utilised at different times to spread the love. So yes, although I was feeling good, and was determined to give winning my best shot, I never EXPECTED to win. Racing the Germans on their home turf is notoriously tough, and I didn’t want to rest on my laurels or take anything for granted.

You can never have the ‘perfect’ race, but I guess this one was as near perfect as I could hope for! The pros started bang on 6.45am with about 300 other speedy age groupers, and the remaining 2200 or so athletes went off 15minutes later. This strategy seemed to pay off, as it really did limit the amount of packs forming on the bike. The water was a tropical 23.8 degrees, so my rubber was allowed. I have been working hard on my swim, and was determined not to let all this work go to waste. I did loose feet after about 500m, and ended up splashing solo, but was really happy to come out as first woman. Onto the bike I felt good, but like a German sausage the Ironman day is long and so I deliberately didn’t want to go out too fast. All was great until the Hell Hill when my water bottle containing my special beverage was rocket launched into the air as I bounced over the cobbles, never to be seen again. Oh bother I thought. My nutritional strategy has gone ‘ to Hell’. What to do? There is no special needs. OK, ‘sod it’, was the next thought. I will savour the drink I have and then use whatever they give me at the aid stations.

I felt stronger as the ride went on, although i did get attacked by a rather large flying object - whether it be a bee, wasp or other airbourne beast - it hurt a lot and i spent about 5km scratching at the welt that developed on my chest. By the second lap I started to take on a few of the age group men with their very nice technical gadgets. The course was great, some nice drags and climbs, downhills (luckily not too technical for an incompetent nunce like me), some corners through the wee villages and a lovely beast of a headwind all the way home. I dropped a second water bottle at about 140km and promptly rode over it. Next time maybe I should use a camelback.

Coming into the run I was feeling good, but hungry. The only thing that concerned me was the fact that I hadn’t followed my nutritional strategy and I didn’t know how it would affect my run. But you can’t worry about things like that for too long. You just get out there and do the job. The run course was fantastic - 4 x10.5km laps - and flat, aside from a few bridges. I was blown away by the number of spectators and the support that I received. It was truly phenomenal, and very moving. As usual, I took one energy gel in T2 and then one gel every 25mins, although after 2hours I only had a few sips of cola as my stomach started to become a wee bit, well, loose. And yes, it did necessitate a flying visit to one of those lovely portable toilets.

Coming into the final 2km I felt like I was on fire, aside from stiffness in my buttock region. I honestly didn’t know how close I was to the World Record, but I don’t regret taking my time in the last 500m to savour that very special moment, soak up the atmosphere and show my appreciation to the 500,000 people that had turned out to watch the race. Records come and go, but these memories will stay with me forever. To top it all off I got to share the victory with my wonderful mum and dad, my cousin and all my friends who had flown out from the UK to…drink beer.

And the day didn’t end there. The finish line celebrations were absolutely fantastic and as I watched people cross the line and hung medals round their necks I was choked by tears and reminded once again why I do this sport – to challenge myself, reach my own goals, encourage and inspire others, and share in the joy, passion, determination and courage of everyone else that places their heart and soul on the line.

Of course the night wouldn’t have been complete without the obligatory bottle of champagne. Or was that two?  Washed down with a few German sized jars of ale (so sizeable that you need a forklift truck to hold them rather than a limp wrist), some thigh slapping local tunes, and yes, the odd oversized sausage or three, after all…when in Rome…..

I would like to finish off, by once again thanking Kurt Denk and his team for everything they did to make the race such a resounding success. A special mention goes out to Sven for being an awesome wing man for me and the rest of the pro athletes. Vielen schonen danke also to all the volunteers who gave up their valuable time to help, and to the sponsors, without whom none of this would happen

I am now back in the land of the Swiss. Less sausage more cheese - nursing my post race Champagne induced hangover and getting back into some kind of training. I will be toeing the line at Alp D’Huez on 31 July, and then will probably head to the US for Timberman 70.3 before starting the big count down to Kona. Life is good – especially if it contains beer, sausage, neoprene pants, cling film and an Ironman victory!

As many of you know I am closely involved with an amazing UK based charity called Envision. The organisation aims to challenge the general perception that young people are apathetic and disengaged, so they seek to support 16-19 year olds to develop the skills, awareness, confidence and motivation through the development of their own social and environmental projects. The projects not only achieve positive change but inspire their creators and others by making a real difference. For more information about envision see www.envision.org.uk

Envision has just been selected by an independent body as a semi-finalist in the National Lottery Awards. This means that, out of 720 other projects, Envision is regarded as one of the best education projects funded by the National Lottery.

The challenge now is to help Envision get to the finals in the public vote! They are competing against 9 other education projects. With help from their supporters the organisation could become one of the 3 to make it to the final round - which will be broadcast live on BBC1. I, and the Envision team, would be really really grateful if you can vote for them at the following link (and yes – it is free to vote!) http://www.lotterygoodcauses.org.uk/awards/shortlist.cfm?id_category=2

Or if that does not work try pasting : www.lotterygoodcauses.org.uk/awards.

Voting closes at midday on 4 July. So be speedy and thanks so much! Hopefully this will get the organisation even more recognition for its wonderful work…..

I want to say a HUGE congratulations to a very special, and inspirational lady – Debbie Southwood. Debbie and her wonderful husband Tauny are the life and soul of the Birmingham Running and Triathlon Club (the BRATs) - the club that recruited me as a fresh faced novice. The Southwoods are famous for hosting the best post race BBQ after the National Relays, and the 2004 party didn’t disappoint. I will remember it mainly for the constant flow of fine alcoholic beverages (although the memory did get a little hazy after a few too many fine glasses). Anyway, Debbie and Tauny are like my second mum and dad whenever I go back to Birmingham. I stay at the Southwood mansion, eat all their food and spread my smelly lycra all over their clean floors. And still they have me back!

Anyway, Debbie is an amazingly talented athlete. She swam for Australia at the Munich Olympics in 1972, as a 16 year old - and always beats me out of the water, despite being a few…uummmmm….decades my senior. However Debbie was unfortunately involved in horrific bike crash at the 2006 World Ironman 70.3 Championships in Florida, where she fractured her pelvis and was virtually immobile. A broken pelvis would take most people years to recover from, but Debbie demonstrated huge strength of character, determination and perseverance and was swimming, cycling and running within a few months of being hospitalised. Even more amazing is that, only 7 months after the crash, Debbie not only started Ironman Switzerland in 2007, but finished on the podium in a personal best time of 12:54. And it gets better! Last weekend at Ironman France Debbie clocked a 54min swim - beating the majority of the pro girls out of the water – hammered out a 6hr40 bike and a 4.09 marathon, winning her age group, breaking the course record for the 50-54 women by 2 hours and earning herself a slot for Kona.

Debbie. I, and so many others, admire everything you have achieved, and we will all be cheering as loudly as we can for you in Hawaii in October. Well done again!

Jane Tomlinson was an inspiration to us all. As many know, Jane was diagnosed with incurable, advanced breast cancer in 2000, and was told she would only survive for six more months. However, Jane fought through various treatment programmes, and despite also developing chronic heart disease, bravely completed a full Ironman,  two half Ironmans, four marathons, three London Triathlons and three long distance bike rides – John O Groats to Lands End, Rome to Home and the final challenge: an amazing 6781.8 km ride across America. Jane’s efforts raised over £1,850,000 for numerous charities. She sadly passed away in September 2007, but her legacy lives on.

I wanted to write this blog to raise awareness about a forthcoming charity ride that her husband, Mike, and daughter, Rebecca, are organising in memory of Jane and to raise money for Jane’s Appeal. Mike, 47, and Rebecca, 20, will cycle the 1400miles from John O’Groats to Land’s End, beginning on 11 July. They will cycle an average of 60 miles a day during their three week ride. The route will be similar to that taken by Jane in 2003, when she tandem cycled from John O’Groats to Land’s End, stopping twice for chemotherapy treatment.

I would urge all of you to have a look at the Jane’s Appeal website - www.janesappeal.com, and find out how you might be able to help this worthy and important cause.

Thanks

Chrissie

There is a time and a place to wear rubber. In an open water swim, when scuba diving or even at a nightclub if that is what tickles your fancy. But not when running. And certainly not when running in a public place. But that is exactly what I have been doing for the past three weeks. It is amazing that I haven’t been arrested.

So why did the Boss make me ride 100km to purchase a pair of passion killing neoprene pants? To see if I can break the world record for sweat production? To satisfy a kinky fetish? None of the above. These pants are actually the latest in hamstring therapy. My pants are made to fit a 12 year old boy. A 12-year old kayaker to be precise  - as they have a-not-so designer patch on each buttock for added cushioning. Maybe I am the size of a 12 year old boy, or 12 year old boys are very large – whatever they are tight, almost uncomfortably so, especially when assuming the squat position.  They are also very warm. It’s a bit like steam cooking a sausage, especially when my speed exceeds a walk.  

So to summarise the pants look crap, are passion killers (not that I get much passion) and make me look like I am on my way to a fetish club-cum-school boy kayaking contest.  But do they work? I have to say, categorically - yes! In conjunction with some tantric style exercises, hands on massage, cling film and clay (don’t ask) and a tube of smelly anti inflammatory cream I have to say that the dodgy hamstring is much less dodgy, and the running form is coming back in rubbery leaps and bounds up here in the Swiss mountains. My calves are now more like cows because of the hills, and my aquatic skills are less sink and more and more swim as each day goes by.  So everything is looking rosy for IM Germany next month. I might leave the pants at home though.  Unless anyone knows of a nightclub that might let me in wearing them.

I decided to have a wee stop over in London between the warm (roasting) weather camp in Flip Flop Pines and our summer (four seasons in one day) camp in Switzerland.

As usual, I stayed in Hambro Heaven Hotel - the awesome house in Putney, South West London - owned by the wonderful Liz, who opens her door to all kinds of triathlete waifs and strays: namely yours truly, Blue Seventy’s Guy Crawford (very good to have a sponsor as a housemate. I have never had such good access to neoprene) and my super age group buddy Dion. I am so excited because Dion will be joining me for fun and frolics in the lava fields, having just got his slot for Kona.

Anyway, it was always going to be impossible to fit everything into one week. I was rushing round like a blue bottomed fly. Juggling balls and dropping them like mad. My trip home went a little something like this:

• Supersized meals (washed down with some drinks) with friends. These buddies reliably informed me that a few glasses of wine are just what the doctor would order. A bottle, however, might not have been quite as beneficial. Still, grapes must count towards my 5-A-Day.
• A delicious lunch with my wonderful mum, dad, brother and his girlfriend to celebrate my brother’s recent promotion and his birthday, which is tomorrow. Happy birthday for Tuesday Matty! No wine.
• Being wined (was that more wine?) and dined by the UK Oakley don, David Hyam. I was lucky enough to be given a new pair of the Oakley Thump MP3 glasses. Unfortunately I can’t even work a calculator, and so am struggling to operate this ingenious spectacle-music combo. I wear them just to look cool. And sing loudly to pretend that I have mastered this new fangled technology.
• Frolicking in rubber for a Blue Seventy photoshoot down at Heron Lake. Playboy are now banging on my door. I am working on developing those ‘assets’.
• Being treated to a wonderful lunch by the Daily Mail newspaper and Sarah Wooldridge, the wife of the legendary sports journalist Ian Wooldrige. Sarah presented me with the Daily Mail Sports Award in memory of her late husband. I am so incredibly proud and flattered to have been selected for this national Award. It means so much to me, and I hope I can continue to demonstrate the values that Ian espoused.
• Getting my engine fine tuned with a full MOT at Physio4Life, in Putney. This meant subjecting myself to massage-cum-torture from the ever sadistical Gemma, and some super treatment from Mark on my niggly hammy and hip. I was twisted, bent, poked and pricked (again, Playboy would have had a field day). Apparently I am very wonky, so I have exercises now to correct the wonk. Welly Wonka. All I need now is a Chocolate Factory.
• Popping in to see Geoff and the boys at Sigma, my local bike shop. It felt like Christmas. In exchange for a few water bottles and a couple of pairs of TYR goggles I managed to get my hands on a whole Santa Sack full of bike goodies. Including a much needed saddle/sofa. Undercarriage chaffing is now a thing of the past. Thank you so much for sorting me out boys - you are complete stars!
• This was topped off with a trip down to the Eton Super Sprint - a 400m swim, 20km bike and 5km run – held at Dorney Rowing Lake just outside London. This was the very first triathlon I ever did back in 2004. You never forget your first time. The oversized wetsuit, the toe clips, getting my shoe laces caught round the crank, accidentally running down the finish chute with 2.5km still left to run. I lost my triathlon virginity in style. It was great to go back, see the race from the other side of the fence, and watch my friend Jonny come home with gold. (Whilst there, I got chatting to one of the sponsors - Mens Health Magazine – who expressed an interest in doing an article on me. I have started to cultivate a facial bush and a chest wig – to pass myself off as a Healthy Man. Playboy would have less interest in this I feel).

It was so great to spend some time at home – but I did end up rushing round like a chicken with its head cut off. And although I do have stupidly large feet, bonkers hair and red nose which make me look like a clown, I don’t think I am cut out for the circus. Juggling balls - of the proverbial variety – is just not my forte. I need the simple life, and so I’ve headed to our haven in the Swiss hills for big gear action, slabs of milka, cow bells and a splash of cheesy fondue, in preparation for my next race – IM Germany on 6 July. Lets hope I can get the Welly Wonka sorted out before then.

If I judged every day by whether I win or lose yesterday would be considered a ‘bad day’. I decided to have a shot at going short, and got a start in my first World Cup in Tongyeong, Korea. Suffice it to say it was a ‘learning experience’! I just didn’t have the skills I needed to be competitive. I am a grandma going round corners. I spent long enough in transition to have a 4 course lunch, and even on the bike – usually my strength I felt ‘flat’. But I need to have these days – because the ‘defeats’ expose my weaknesses, and enable me to grow, learn and develop as an athlete. As I said, I learn the lesson, and move on…determined to try and develop these weaknesses as well as working on my strengths. Of course I am a little disappointed that I couldn’t mix it up with the short course girls, but I have to cast a positive light over it. I have met some great people, eaten more seafood than your average seal, confirmed my dislike for pickled cabbage and demonstrated my complete lack of singing skills at the dodgy karaoke joint. ‘Like a Virgin’ has never sounded so bad.

So onwards and upwards. I am heading back to Flip Flop Pines for more heat. Then to Europe to hit the hills and get ready for IM Frankfurt – because if this race has shown me anything it is that, as the Spam emails I get always tell me, ‘size matters’, and I am definitely all about length!

I have to start of with an apology for my sluggishness in putting fingers to keyboard and posting this blog. I got carried away with post race celebrations and before I knew it a week had passed, my blisters had healed, my chaffing had disappeared,  I managed to finally remove the tattooed race letter on my calf, I recovered from the Awards party hangover  and I wasn’t walking like a cowgirl anymore!

IM Australia: what an absolutely amazing event. I feel so happy to have been part of it, and to win, well that was just the icing on a very large and tasty cake!

I have to say though. It was, in many ways, the toughest race I have done. My training had been going really well, so I went into the race as confident as I could get (which isn’t brimming) fitness wise, however a series of pre-race blonde moments could have been my downfall. I opened my bike bag when I got to my hotel (The Observatory, which was the dogs danglers) and was greeted by the disturbing sight of one rear race wheel and one front training wheel. Oh dear I thought. This isn’t great. So began a mission to get my mitts on a front HED wheel. Clincher of course, due to tubular incompetence on my part. Luckily, the chairman of the Port Macquarie triathlon club, Andrew Lister,  had a great taste in wheels, and kindly leant me his front one, with the instruction to ‘give it the ride of its life’…! So with two matching wheels I was all set. I then took my trusty P2 (the Kona one) into TRS Cycles for a service two days before the race. Lovely Jim the owner wasn’t nearly as lovely when he  became the bearer of some rather disturbing news – ‘chrissie, you do realise that you have a crack in your frame don’t you?’. Oh bother I thought again. Needless to say, I didn’t know about the said crack. What to do? Get a new P2 built up or take the risk. It was a small crack. I took the risk. Note to self: bubble wrap around frame next time.

 Blonde moment number three was making the assumption that Australia would be warm. It was: when I arrived. However the temperature suddenly plummeted to sub zero, British proportions. And it became rather moist. I had small tank tops, small shorts, and training clothes the size of tea bags. I rode a lap of the course. And froze. Hyperthermia is not the best preparation for an Ironman.

Anyway, blonde moments aside the pre race week went well, and I wasn’t that nervous before the race (although I did manage to munch most of my finger nails). I have been working hard on my swim, and was really pleased that, for once, I didn’t sink and managed to pull a good one out of the bag. Onto the bike I felt a wee bit sluggish and turned into a bit of a grandma when it started to drizzle with rain, and I had to navigate tight corners and a few descents. Although I overtook the lead girl after 5km, at about 15km Kate came zooming past me. Oh dear I thought. She’s motoring and I don’t think I should/can go with her. So I let her go and trundled on – my strength increased as the sun came out and by the third lap grandma legs had gone, and I felt full of beans. I overtook Kate, and a few boys, after about 160km. I went out onto the run feeling pretty rosy, although I was a wee bit concerned about how my niggly hammy was going to pull up. With Kate only 1min30 behind my aim was to try and put as much time between us as I could, in the hope that when the pain hit I would be able to hold on for dear life. With a three lap course you can play mind games with yourself – a marathon seems much less when you think of it as 3×14km. Although no amount of mind games could make those hills any bloody easier! Oh and my hammy did hurt. I ignored it. I remember one guy yelling out to me at about the 16km mark on the run. Chrissie ‘it’s in the bag’! I thought to myself – you’ve never done an ironman mate. The race hasn’t even started - there is a whole world of pain to look forward too!

Luckily for me his prediction came true, and I felt like a million dollars as I ran down the finish chute, high fiving everyone and taking the time to really appreciate the sweet taste of victory. But the other girls sure did make me work for it. Credit goes out to them, and especially, of course, to Kate who gave me a real run for my aussie dollars.  

 
Having spent the last few days in Sydney, nursing the blisters, chaffing and hangover, I have flown back to the Philippines to try and find some fast twitch fibres for my next race: the ITU World Cup in Korea, and then its back to Europe to our heaven in the swiss hills, and preparation for IM Frank-Furter on 6 July. Bring on the lederhosen and sausages..)

I will sign of with some lengthy words of thanks……. First of all to Panthers, all the race sponsors, IMG (Kim, Dallas, Jo, Mariko Driver Extraordinaire and Shaney Boy) and the Port Macquarie population for their unwavering support.  Cheers go out especially to TRS cycles, Andrew Lister, and Jan and Bob for helping me through the blonde times…J Thanks also to Gemini Cycles in Sydney for sorting out my ‘crack problem’, by building me a brand spanking new P2.  It’s called ‘Harry’ after my granddad.

A huge THANKYOU to the thousands of volunteers (including the wonderful kids from the Kids Foundation) who gave up their precious time to help. I spoke to some of them at the finish line and throughout the evening, but there are so many hundreds more who’s enthusiasm, energy and selflessness help make the race such a success. I also want to say thank you to the thousands of amazing supporters (including Mike and his family) who lined the streets from start to finish: cheering me on, even though I am a (not that whingy) Pom. The atmosphere was seriously electric, not just when I was coming down the finish chute waving the St Georges cross like a lunatic, but right through until midnight.

 As I said at the Awards dinner and will repeat here - for us professionals this is our job, all we do is train, eat and sleep. We might grab the headlines, but we are really only a small part of the story. The real story is the thousand or so age groupers who ran, walked, staggered and crawled their way over the finish line. I was lucky enough to chat to some of them, and each person had an amazing story to tell.  Watching the determination, courage, joy, and elation on people’s faces reminded me once again why I do this sport. And no, it isn’t for the chaffing, blisters or zebra tan lines.

My smile says it all!

With two days to go until I leave Flip Flop Pines and head down under I thought I would write a quick blog to share some of my thoughts and feelings going into my first race of the season – Iron Man Australia. You know what? I am so excited about it! I feel strong, positive and most importantly I have a great brown/white bits sun tan, so might not even turn into a pommy tomato under the scorching Aussie rays.

So, training has been going really well. I have been beasting myself with the other TeamTBB babes and blokes - they keep me on my toes and make sure I finish each day feeling more dead than alive. I am hoping that I can finally pull a solid swim out of the bag, and have been taking top tips from open water queens Hillary B and Belinda G on how to punch, kick and pull my way into the pack. With my bony elbows I could do some serious damage to an eye socket or two, although my sticky arms are more likely to win me a Miss Puniverse contest than an aqua fist fight.

 
The biking here is the dogs danglers. If you like hills and some serious wind (in addition to that generated by yours truly due to some intestinal ‘difficulties’). As for my trusty steed - I will be straddling the trusty P2 in Australia. It feels good and suits me, and plus – it didn’t give me a bad ride last October…:) I will have HED (Jet 60s) wheels – clinchers, as I don’t have the foggiest idea how to use tubulars. I do have a new set of peddles to replace the ones that I mended the day before Kona though. And a nice new (non aero) helmet (cheers to the Sigma boys for sorting me out and making sure I don’t look like a complete muppett). As for running, I have been doing some bonkers sessions, especially on the track, so hopefully the run legs will be in the bag when I go into T2 come race day.

I never go into a race thinking I am going to win. I go in determined to do my best and give it everything I have got. I feel fit, happy and ready for action, but you never know what might happen on the day. It’s going to be tough, and there are some super experienced and strong girls racing. But whatever highs and lows I encounter down in Port you will be sure that I will be giving it 100%, smiling all (or at least most!) of the way, and will definitely be ready to enjoy a scooner or two after my day job is done!

Big thanks go out to everyone at IM Australia, especially the race organisers IMG for all their pre race help; to TYR, Cervelo, Blue Seventy and Oakley for putting their faith in me and sending me nice packages of goodies, and most importantly to everyone that has emailed with good luck wishes. I really appreciate it, and I hope that I can give you all something to scream and shout about on 6 April!

In the meantime, I will have my eagle eyes peeled on the results of California 70.3 this weekend. My teammate Erika and my close friend Johnny Hotchkiss are both toeing the line, and I want to send them some duracel bunny energy to be the wind beneath their wings! The same goes for the Philippino team who will be strutting their stuff at the Mekong ITU race in Thailand. Good luck guys!