I have been vocal in my reaction to the shortlist and, with week’s worth of water having passed under the bridge, I wanted to pen a blog as my personal contribution to the wider debate that so clearly needs to be had.

The issue for me is threefold. First, and predictably, the exclusion of women in the shortlist, and the lack of female nominations overall (and of the 58 past winners of the main award, just 13 were female); second, the lack of representation of so called ‘minority sports’, and third the scant attention paid to para-athletes.

Let me be clear. The river runs much deeper than SPOTY, and discussions about who has, or hasn’t, been included in the list. Awards are, by their very nature, subjective and you will never be able to include or recognize everybody (although, this does not negate the need to ensure that the mechanism for selecting recipients of an award must be as fair and balanced as possible). More significant is that the SPOTY process and shortlist has shone a spotlight on some important issues pertaining to the media coverage of, and overall support for, women, para-athletes and minority sports.

Before I go on, I want to make clear my deepest admiration and respect for every athlete who made the shortlist. As a professional athlete I can appreciate the drive, dedication, commitment and skill needed to excel at a chosen sport, and I would never want to disparage them or their achievements. However, the list clearly reflects a view (at least by the publications consulted) that the performances by the 10 male nominees were superior to those by any single female athlete.

Is this really true? Have women simply achieved less across the board, or has their success been in, so-called, minority sports that have not been extensively covered by the mainstream media? I would contend that there have been many outstanding performances by female athletes that would have merited their inclusion in the list. Space will not permit me to detail each and every one, but they include Keri-Anne Payne (10km swimming world champion), Sarah Stevenson (Taekwondo world champion), Hayley Turner (historic success in horse racing’s Group One’s July cup), Helen Jenkins (Triathlon world champion), Katherine Grainger and Anna Watkins (rowing world gold medalists), Dee Caffari (round the world sailing world record). Lizzy Hawker (world record for 24hour endurance run – winning overall, and beating all the men) and Rebecca Addlington (800m freestyle swimming world champion) and many more. Aside from Rebecca these women hardly featured in the nominations: but if you take their performances into account it seems somewhat erroneous for one BBC presenter to justify – and effectively endorse –  the all-male list with the claim that “it hasn’t been a great year for women in sport“.

It is not all doom and gloom. I feel fortunate to participate in a sport where women and men compete on a level playing field, racing on the same course at the same time, and for the same prize money. The triathlon media covers men and women’s participation and race results in equal measure. The number of female participants is growing exponentially, and sponsors and federations do not seem to demonstrate gender bias when it comes to support. In addition, I would like to give credit to the mainstream media – including the BBC – whose coverage of triathlon, and ironman, has increased over the past few years, providing myself and other athletes with an opportunity to further raise the profile of our sport. But there is still a long way to go, and I appreciate that for other sports the media coverage lags far behind that of triathlon, and light years behind football, rugby, cricket, tennis and golf.  This is exemplified by some Tweeters who have claimed never to have heard of any of the above female athletes and hence are unable to understand what all the fuss is about. And therein lies the issue. SPOTY honours ‘the sportsman or woman whose actions have most captured the public’s imagination’. For sportswomen to actually get into the public’s imagination would be a good starting point.

Don’t get me wrong. Tokenistic mentions are not what’s needed. Women should feature solely on merit: because they have reached the global pinnacle of the sport that they have devoted their lives to.

Second, as I said above, this is not only a gender issue. The SPOTY shortlist also highlights the lack of visibility of para-athletes and also of minority sports per se. In short, success in the water or in martial arts is deemed inferior to triumph on the football pitch, athletics track or tennis court. There have been performances by men and of para-athletes that have failed to even cause a ripple in the British media, let alone afford them contention for a mainstream public award. These include Nick Matthew, who became the first player in 15 years to defend successfully the World Open squash title, Liam Tancock, who also took gold, for the second successive time, in the 50m backstroke at the World Aquatics Championships and Alistair Brownlee, who won the Triathlon World Championships.  Para-athlete successes include those by David Weir, Katrina Hart, Sam Ingram, Ben Quilter, Libby Clegg, Jon Allan Butterworth, Jody Cundy to name just a few. But their performances have passed practically unnoticed.

I welcome the BBC’s announcement that a review will be undertaken of the SPOTY nomination process, in consultation with a range of stakeholders. The Award has historically used a variety of methodologies, and of course, the outcome is always based on the subjective views of the selection panel – whether that is a private or public vote.  While the current process has been in place since 2006, and this is the first year that a female has not featured in the shortlist, I disagree with the BBC’s assertion that this system is “fair, independent and robust”. Although I do not have an issue, per se, of the inclusion of Nuts and Zoo, I believe that (assuming their readership is predominantly male) that equivalent publications with a predominately female audience, for example Sportssister, are also included.  I would suggest that the shortlist be developed by a panel of sports industry professionals, from a range of different bodies: radio, tv and print media; UK Sport staff; ex professional sports men and women; previous SPOTY winners, including coaches and unsung heroes. I would also suggest that the nature of the Award itself be clearly defined (eg is it for performance, personality or a mixture of both?) We don’t necessarily need a separate award for men and women – nor do we need a pre-specified minimum number of women included in a joint list. The BBC should institute a process which is fair and balanced and can truly reflect the very best that Britain has to offer, some of those world beating performances will undoubtedly be by females, those in minority sports an para-athletes.

Much has been made of my decision not to attend the SPOTY ceremony. Contrary to reports I have not called for a widespread boycott. I simply feel that I personally need to ‘walk the talk’. I do not feel able to support an event which endorses and perpetuates the message that a) not one single women has done anything of sporting note, relative to their male counterparts this year, and that b) the achievements of those participating in minority sports are somehow inferior to those in more high profile (better funded) sports. The BBC has instituted this Award and needs to take responsibility for the flawed methodology that led to the outcome of the shortlist. To have been so openly critical of the process and its outcome and then sit there in a posh frock implicitly lending my support would be hypocritical of me. I do however feel very strongly that every athlete has a right to make his/her own decision, and would never want to urge/encourage others to follow my lead unless they personally felt that it was the right thing to do.

But what, many of you may still be asking, is all the fuss about? Why does the SPOTY shortlist matter?

Let me be clear. I didn’t take up triathlon for public accolades or to become a millionaire. I loved my former job working as an advisor on international development policy to the UK Government, but I craved the challenge of pushing my body and mind to the limit, relishing the chance to see just how good I could be. Being shortlisted for SPOTY couldn’t have been further from my mind.  Not long after I became as a professional in February 2007, I remember saying to my coach “All I do is swim, bike and run – it’s so selfish. I don’t feel I am doing anything to help others.” And he replied, “Chrissie, just you wait. Before long you will be able to affect change in a way you never thought possible.” His prophesy has come true – with my four World Championship victories I have the platform I dreamed of to combine sport and development work and bring about positive change. Of course I am a fierce competitor, and I love to work hard, smash myself and fight for every victory – but each win brings more opportunity. As I said, I don’t race for accolades, but winning allows me to speak about things I am passionate about, to inspire and encourage others, to lead by example, to be a role model for change, to raise the bar and to raise awareness about important issues.

I believe professional sports people serve as representatives and ambassadors but, currently, the attractive wife of a male sports star is more likely to attract column inches than a female sportsperson. Is it no wonder then that young girls no longer aspire to be a successful swimmer or taekwondo player? Without strong, healthy, active, successful female (and male) sporting role models, female participation in competitive sports will continue to decline, and we will see an exacerbation of the current (worrying) situation where 80% of women and girls are not active enough to benefit their health.

Participation in sport is an extremely powerful tool for tackling deep-rooted social issues: obesity and other health problems, bullying, truancy, crime, unemployment and so forth. But without the support of the media/sponsors/federations athletes do not have the visibility necessary to enable us to inspire, encourage and enthuse, and hence drive participation in, and generating demand for media coverage of, all sports. This increase in participation can also help to drive the development of infrastructure, improved facilities – further catalysing the development of healthy, active individuals and the next generation of sporting stars. The growth in public participation in cycling galvanised by the gold medal winning performances of Mark Cavendish, Victoria Pendleton and Chris Hoy, among others, is a case in point. Or alternatively we can look to Dame Kelly Holmes, who – with her public profile on the back of sporting success – has been able to gain considerably more traction for the wonderful work she is undertaking through her charitable Foundation. Likewise for the late Jane Tomlinson who was awarded the SPOTY Helen Rollason award for “outstanding achievement in the face of adversity” in 2002. The award bought Jane’s situation and amazing courage into the spotlight, and gave increased visibility to her cause. Of course, SPOTY is not the be all and end all, but awards like that do attract a large audience and hence provide a platform for visibility and for positive change, should the nominated athlete chose to use it.

And media coverage, including public awards, matter because media exposure and support/funding for professional and amateur sport are bedfellows. Again, the growth and success in British Cycling exemplifies this funding/success/media/funding connection. Without a media profile, funding and sponsorship is hard to attain. Without the high prize purses and sponsorship coffers the media do not bat an eye, and hence the sport suffers from a further shortfall in financial support. This is a self-fulfilling, circular process that needs to be broken. And this debate is an important step in doing so.

So, to me, SPOTY presents a missed opportunity. But paradoxically, it could be a valuable window of opportunity too. For the issue has prompted debate and dialogue. Not everyone will agree with what I, and others, say. But that’s fine. The fact that the issue is up for discussion is a step forward, and will hopefully serve to catalyse change on issues I think we can all agree on. That is, that sport has a tremendous power – and we need to encourage a growth in participation amongst women and men, in whatever sport they choose to partake in. And that the media increases its coverage of a range of sports, celebrating the best that Great Britain truly does have to offer.

 Champions come and go, but to me the real judge of my personal success  - and legacy – will be whether I actually do something positive with the opportunities I have been given. I really hope that as four time World Ironman Champion, I can be a role model and ambassador for the sport that everyone can be proud of.  That, not the number of Awards in my cabinet, is what motivates me  – and when I train and when I race it is at the fore of my mind.

For many athletes this means only one thing – ‘having it off’. Any wife/husband/partner reading this might jump for joy at these three (rarely used in the life of an exhausted triathlete) words. But the celebrations may be short lived. For I am talking not about nocturnal gymnastics, but about the so called ‘off season’. The period after your last race when triathlon goes from being the axis around which your life spins, to having a back seat in day to day life. But why is this break so important and what advice would I give athletes about how to use this precious time so that they can lay strong foundations for the next year?

Computer geeks tell me that, plugged in for long enough, eventually your laptop battery will wear out. Our bodies and minds are the same. We need to be unplugged in order to come back firing on all cylinders. The key to the off season is to recharge, not only your physical, but also your mental batteries  – leaving you invigorated, motivated and ready to give 100% to the next racing season. The first question I am often asked is how long this ‘off season’ should last. I take around 4-6 weeks after Kona as my ‘downtime’ period. But it is really up to the individual. So much depends on your training volume, level of fitness, injury status, and your state of mind. Often the greater an athlete’s fitness at the end of our season, the more damage they can do by coming back too quickly.  I would divide the 4-6 weeks into three stages – first ‘unplugged’; then ‘a little bit of what you fancy does you good’ and finally ‘turning it back on’.

Embark on the first stage by celebrating the season’s finale. You would have had good, bad and downright ugly days – but I there will have been huge highs too, not just in terms of results, but also memories of the great times you have had with friends, travelling to new places and learning new lessons along the way. So take time to reflect on the past year with a glass of wine and a juicy burger, truly celebrate what you have achieved and toast the opportunity to ‘have it off’.

The next step – while it is fresh in your (now sober) mind – is to look back at your season, assess the highs and lows, and be subjective about evaluating your strengths and weaknesses, both in training and in racing. This can be done with friends and coaches, but honesty is vital. Make notes, and use this evaluation as the basis of your training for the next season, and beyond. Then put the log book away (with any item of lycra clothing that reveals a hint of flesh) in a place where it can gather dust.

The key to the first and second stage is to drastically reduce the volume and intensity of training that you do. I take 2 weeks completely off and instead engage in non sporting activities with family and friends. Trips to the theatre, music concerts, meals at restaurants, lazy spa days, marathon ‘Top Gun’ watching sessions. Anything that doesn’t involve sporting attire, and is a world away from my monkish, ‘bedtime by 9pm’ existence.  I might even lose a slipper and turn into a pumpkin.

As much as you might have enjoyed becoming a couch loving potato, once this initial ‘total rejuvenation’ period is over its time to embark on the ‘a little bit of what you fancy does you good’ stage. Do a something physical at least every other day. But spice it up. Yes, going for curries is one way of adding much needed spicy heat to your life, but another equally fine option is to engage in sporting activities that don’t centre on swim/bike/run. Variety is the key here. Maybe try a new sport. Lawn bowls, tiddly winks, yoga, skiing, table tennis, rock climbing, belly dancing, bog snorkelling – anything that will invigorate you, elevate your heart rate a little bit and get the aerobic system firing again (engaging in the implied activity in this column’s title may also do this). Team sports are a good antidote to the sometimes solitary nature of triathlon training. Dragon boat racing could be fun.

After a few weeks of spicy variety you might a) realise that you much prefer bog snorkelling or b) be experiencing triathlon withdrawal symptoms. There is no harm in reintroducing swim/bike/run activities. Just keep it fun, unstructured and low in intensity. You don’t have to get up for the 5.30am masters swim practice. Have a lie in and stick to floating around with the ‘practically dead people’ in the slow lane of your public pool. Try different strokes. The lifeguards are on hand should you drown attempting 25m butterfly. Take the dog for a walk. Poop-a-scooping adds that extra bit of flexibility work. Go running. But leave the all singing, all dancing, wrist computer at home.

Indulge in different foods (and beverages). Don’t pile on the pounds, but a bit of weight gain and a small ‘muffin top’ will give you a bit of extra padding for the winter months and give you fuel to feed off when the training ramps up. Now is also the time to look at your equipment and make any changes – have you always wanted to try a bigger chain ring or a different brand of pedal? Is your bike set up causing you problems?  The off/early season is the time to look at this.

So after the second stage is over, now’s the time to ease your way back into training. Dig that dusty log book out and look at your strengths and weaknesses. Make sure you invest time in working on the latter, seeking help and advice if you need it. Focus on building up your aerobic base, and leave the super duper hard intervals for after the New Year celebrations.  This means being patient and resisting the urge to have smash fests with friends. Coffee and cake stop rides are the backbone of any early season schedule. Ensure you dedicate time to a good but initially gentle, strength and conditioning programme which will give you a solid structural foundation for the months ahead.  The beer-to-mouth exercises of the first stage should have given you sufficient practice to perform a great bicep curl.

Then as December/January roll around again, the snow melts and your sofa has been replaced by your friend the stationary bike take your 2012 events list and sign yourself up for the next challenge. The off season will be over before you know it so enjoy ‘having it off’ – and i’ll see you all at the World Bog Snorkelling Championships!

This blog reiterates, and adds to, the messages I tried my best to convey at the Awards Ceremony. I apologize for my tardiness in putting fingers to keyboard, but there were some serious celebrations to take care of, some luxuriating to be done at the Mauna Lani Bay hotel and some tree trunk like cankles to offload. With the benefit of the passing of time (and sobriety as the affect of the champagne wears off) I have been able to better reflect on what I consider to have been the most exciting, challenging and best race of my career.

Last year I was devastated to succumb to illness and be unable to defend my title. That day Mirinda Carfrae gave everyone a show to remember, especially with her record breaking 2.53 run split, to be crowned world champion. My non-start, however disappointing, instilled in me a hunger like never before. As the saying goes, don’t know what you’ve got until its gone. The fire and desire to regain the world championship title burned all the more brightly.

Coming into a race we all want perfect preparation, minimal disruptions to our routine, great training sessions and no injuries. I am no exception. Up until two weeks prior to the Kona everything was looking rosy – I was on track and determined to give my best ever performance. But this was due to be my 13^th ironman race, and we all know about unlucky number 13. And on 24 September it seemed like lady luck had definitely escaped me. We were on our last long ride in Boulder, approaching a corner that I have taken a million times. I was on the hoods, and then suddenly  – bang! Body hits tarmac. The result: a sizable donation of skin and blood from my left leg, hip and elbow to the Colorado asphalt. In the days that followed the abrasions were the least of worries. I bruised my hip and elbow, damaged my pectoral muscle and contracted a serious infection in my left leg, which became swollen and red and rendered me unable to walk. On the Tuesday Tom and Dave (Scott) had to carry me out of the pool after my failed attempt at swimming. There is a reason I am nicknamed Muppet.

I delayed my flight to Kona, arriving on the Saturday instead of 10 days before. Greeted with open arms, and a lei, by my Kona mum and dad, John and Linda, and struck, as always, but the smell of the flowers, the warmth of the air, and the energy that the island exudes. Hawaii has a very special place in my heart and arriving at the airport never fails to move and excite me.

But the joy was shortlived. I spent race week unable to swim, and as an impatient patient at Kona Hospital. I had ART treatment from the ceaselessly supportive and sanguine, Mike Leahy, as well as my acupuncturist Allison, who had only come out for a holiday, but was put straight to work. The care I received was outstanding – but the disruption and continued discomfort all added to the weight on my shoulders. Of course, I am no hero, and many other athletes have endured – and overcome – far serious illnesses and injuries than I. I am not recounting what happened in the weeks proceeding the race to elicit sympathy, or make excuses, but rather to share the most important lesson that I learnt: to never to let my head or heart drop.

So yes, life threw me curve ball. I could either be crushed by that ball or I could throw it right back and, to follow the advice of a friend, rise like a Phoenix from the ashes of the crash. But would be lying if I said that I wasn’t scared, nervous and apprehensive, and physically suboptimal, coming into the race.

On my race wristband, and on all my water bottles, I write some simple words. One is ‘smile’ and the other ‘never ever give up’. I always say that ironman is 50% physical and 50% mental – all the preparation in the world will not carry you to victory if your mind is not prepared. To plunder the words of Mohammed Ali, “the will must be stronger than the skill”. I was scared of the pain, scared of not being able to do my best and yes, scared of losing. But I had to look fear in the face: conquer my doubts, override my concerns, and attempt to do what I thought was impossible: win the race.

So 8 October dawned. My suboptimal swim left me a lot of work to do. I had been nervous about the pain, I suffered from a lack of power in my right arm, and I didn’t have the speed at the start to fall into the pack that I wouldn’t have wanted to be in. But I had Dave’s wise words ringing in my ear. “Don’t worry if your swim is slow, it’s better to take it steady and be able to complete the race, than to put yourself in a hole you cant get out of”. And so there is was, 1.01 on the clock and a 9min deficit to Julie, and 4mins to Rinny. Suboptimal indeed. I named my bike Phoenix, for obvious reasons, and once aboard I tried to quell any rising panic, keep my head and slowly try to real in those ahead of me, as well as resisting the charges from behind. I managed the former, aside from Julie who was having the ride of her life out in front, and Karen Thurig, who was doing what she does best, dominating the bike and leaving most athletes in her wake. I overtook Rinny on the climb up to Hawi, where I saw my family and friends jumping up and down with huge banners, and behaving in a manner that would have gotten them arrested under normal circumstances. Despite their smiles and funky chicken dancing I knew they were more concerned than I actually was about the deficit that was mounting between myself and Julie. Soon after, I was overtaken by the bullet that was Karen Thurig, and I managed to stay with her for about 10miles, until I had to concede that her pace was over and above my capabilities. I ignored the aches and pains that attacked my body, coming and going, and preventing me from ever really feeling comfortable. I sat up at every aid station and incline to try and open up my hips, and ease the numbness that had developed in my lower back. The sensation when my pee trickled down my leg into my wounds resulted in more than a few swear words. I just made sure that NBC wasn’t there to capture it.

In T2 I slipped into my special War on ALS racers, with the War on ALS laces, I was about 22minutes down on Julie, and 10 from Leanda and Rachel, who were all having fantastic races. I  proceeded to run like I had a firework up my backside. I was determined to make hay while the sun shone, and it was definitely shining with no cloud cover and temps of about 90 degrees plus. Once again I had Dave’s voice in my ears “Focus, focus focus, I know you want to smile and wave, but you need to devote every ounce of energy to your performance”. So yes, there were a few less smiles than normal.

There were many instances when body and mind were screaming in agony. The pain in my right hip was excruciating, my form was poor with my left foot turned out like a duck, and soon after other areas of my body started to feel the affects from my changed gait. Hamstrings, calves, even my shoulders cried out for me to stop. I had that ugly voice on one shoulder suggesting I quit and take the easy route. But I hate the goddamn easy route, and I know that I can never rest until I know I have given it absolutely everything. So I ignored the pain. I ignored the internal whispers. It was the other voice, the louder one on the opposite shoulder, which gave me the will to continue: which enabled me to keep my head, and to plunder the words of Kipling, to force my “…heart and nerve and sinew to serve their turn long after they are gone, and so hold when there is nothing in you except the will which says to them ‘Hold On!”

I let the cheers of the crowd lift propel me forwards. I had the sight of my boyfriend Tom, en route to an amazing 11^th pace, to give me a boost. As I overtook Julie, Rachel, Leanda and finally Caroline, at the entrance to the famous Energy Lab my confidence soared but, unlike the name of the lab, my energy levels were waning. “Just keep your head, keep your head” rung in my ears. “Never ever give up”. I recalled times in training and racing when I have suffered and endured pain, I recalled Jon Blais and others who have shown what it is to be truly courageous, and I thought of my family and friends and my desire not to let them, or myself, down.

Once onto the Queen K Highway for the long run home I felt better, and my strength returned over the next 7km, only to fade again as I climbed the final hill to Palani. I was given all manner of splits  “4mins from Rinny, 5mins from Rinny, Rinny is only 3mins behind!” – I knew couldn’t let up, not even for a second. It was only as I descended Palani and let the momentum carry me down did I truly believe that my body would hold out, and that I would win my fourth World Championship crown. And as I finished the final meters along Ali’i drive, waving and smiling I truly felt overwhelmed by what I had managed to achieve. Like 2007, when I won Kona for the first time, it seemed so surreal (although this time people knew who I was!). I heard the conch shells, the noise of the crowds, the sound of the drums, and the voice of Mike Reilly I was awash with emotion. As I reached the finish tape, hoisted it over my head, and then rolled in memory of Jon Blais, I was overcome with a sense of pride, satisfaction, relief, and unadulterated joy that I had won: that I had defied what I had thought possible.

I left everything out there on the course in Kona. Blood, sweat and tears, and a few bits of skin. I lay my my heart and soul on the line in an attempt to conquer my demons, the course, the brutal conditions, my injuries, my doubts, and all the other amazing athletes and win that race. I have often said that I have wanted to finish an ironman feeling emotionally and physically spent. On that day my wish came true. People sometimes say to me that I make winning ironman races look easy. I hope I showed that I am human. I bleed, I cry, I even curse, but I will dig to the depths to give everything I have to this wonderful sport, to realizing the potential inside myself and be the best I can be. The time was irrelevant, ordinarily I would have wanted to be faster across all three disciplines, but this is not the criteria by which I judge success. Success to me is knowing I have given it everything I can – that I have done the best with what I have. Of all my ironman victories this is the performance  - this is the moment in my life – that I am without a doubt the most proud of.

But I couldn’t have done what I did without my competitors. The women’s field is replete with talent. Their presence, their guts, determination and strength forced me to dig deeper than I have ever dug. I am accustomed to racing from the front. This was different. It was a true race, a hard fought battle. This is what competition is all about. I have the deepest respect for everyone that toes that start line, and my victory is also due in large part to their incredible performances.

Although we athletes race as individuals, we cannot do this alone. I shared the start line with Tom, the love of my life; and I looked up at the pier, and saw these huge banners, held by my family and friends who had travelled millions of miles to support me. And at the different points on the course, there they are jumping up and down as I went past (I did spot a mai tai in their hands on more than one occasion, which may have explained the increasingly vigourous and enthusiastic support!). At the finish they are the arms I fall into, with the thought of my brother and so many others watching on their computer screens never far from my mind.  Of course my family is also made up of my great sponsors, my wonderful manager Ben, my support team and especially my coach, Dave Scott. I know I almost gave him a heart attack two weeks ago, but luckily as six time World Champion his heart is strong enough to withstand all the stress.  My family means the world to me. Without their support I wouldn’t have achieved my dreams, and I credit my victories to them.

But everyone who crossed that finish line is part of the special club: an ironman family. We come from different countries, we span age categories, we have different backgrounds and abilities but we are united by the same goal: to be crowned an ironman. I was there to greet some of them as they crossed the line. It is the age group athletes that never cease to amaze me. Of course, it is not all about the athletes. The ironman family comprises tens of thousands of volunteers the world over. The day after the main awards ceremony they have a volunteers party. 4000 people come – their aloha underpins this race. I was so happy to able to go to this party, and to say a personal ‘mahalo’. And the crowds. I couldn’t believe the how many people lined the streets, especially those dressed in weird and wonderful outfits. Of note were the bananas, who took me back to the fruity marriage proposals I received in 2008. These bananas were female this time, but still extending offers of marriage. Always pleasing. And a special mention has to go to the man in the huge sumo outfit, who ran with me as I came back into town for the last time. It’s incredibly embarrassing when a man in an oversized sumo outfit can run much faster than you. And even worse when it is captured on film!

This interaction, this aloha, this mutual respect, support and encouragement is what being part of the global ironman family is really all about.

When I first tuned professional 4 ½ years ago I said to my then coach “Brett, I feel so selfish, everything I do in this sport is for me and me alone”. His response “Just you wait Chrissie, within a couple of years, through your achievements, you will be able to affect more change than you ever thought possible”. His prophecy has come true. I have said it before, and I will say it again, sport has phenomenal, far-reaching amazing power. It is a vehicle to do great things. For me, winning races is not about the glory, it’s not about the money, it’s not about the times. The key is the manner in which I try and win, the lessons I learn and the message I hope I convey. Kona 2011 offers me a valuable, simple lesson. It teaches me never to stop believing. It should teach you all never to stop believing too. Our limits may not be where we think they are.

I sit here writing this as four-time World Champion. I am so honored to hold that title. It means everything to me. This is so much more than a victory. Being World Champion is a privilege. It is a responsibility that I don’t take lightly. It is a platform – a once in a lifetime opportunity and I will do whatever I can to help represent our amazing ironman family, and be a champion you can all be proud of.

Majority of photos by Larry Maurer, www.maurerphoto.com 

Don’t get me wrong, I am as fierce a competitor as you will find. Competitive with myself. Competitive with those around me. But the closest I get to actual warfare is calling shotgun to get extra legroom in a car. Top Gun is my idea of studying military strategy. I took up triathlon because I loved it, because of the challenge and because I wanted to see how good (that ever elusive, unattainable ‘good’) I could be. Not once did I equate a triathlon race to armed conflict. That was until i crashed the bike last weekend, and ended up battered, bruised and yes, covered in sore, bleeding ‘war wounds’. Asphalt 1 = Chrissie 0. Long story short. I had a flat front tyre, didn’t realise, took a corner relatively fast, the wheel slipped from under me, skin hit tarmac. Or more accurately my left elbow (taking the epidermis off ones funny bone is decidedly unfunny), my hip (a bit of padding would have been nice – should have eaten more donuts), and all of the skin on my left leg ended up covering the tarmac.  (Unfortunately i also took out Drew Scott, who also suffered the consequences of the crash – for which i am hugely hugely sorry).

Yes, i have some nasty wounds. That day i lost the battle with the bike, lost a whole heap of bodily fluids and a considerable amount of skin, but I didn’t lose my fight.

Look up ‘war’ in the dictionary and you will see ‘competition, rivalry, battle, struggle’ – all evident on sports pitches and race courses the world over. And of course there was the ‘Iron War’ – the epic 1989 battle between Mark Allen and Dave Scott on the Hawaiian lava fields.  But even before the crash last weekend it was a gift from Brett that, for me, really elucidated the parallels.

It came in the form of a small book by a Chinese general named Sun Tzu, written around 403-221 B.C. and entitled “The Art of War’. I had instructions to read this guide to military strategy from cover to cover before my first World Championships in Kona 2007. And now four years later, having battled the tarmac and lost, and with Hawaii fast approaching, I find myself revisiting this book, and using the following advice to help me overcome the discomfort, pain and mental challenge and prepare for one of the biggest races of my life.

1) And therein lies the first of the many lessons. Talent and a desire to succeed are all very well, but victory depends on a willingness to prepare meticulously and effectively, using all the available intelligence. This requires foreknowledge; learning from masters of the art  - including previous champions and their strategies, tactics and methods; goal setting; planning and a long term commitment to ensuring all the many pieces of the jigsaw are in place to enable you to fight the best fight possible.

2) To do this you must be able to know yourself, understand your strengths and weaknesses, establish the goal for which you are fighting and accumulate and utilize the resources at your disposal. Its all very well wanting a Wellington Bomber, but if you can only afford a Ryanair microlight then do the best with what you’ve got. After all, a weapon is useless without a skilled, confident operator.  And likewise use your own energy reserves wisely – through pacing, nutrition and hydration and picking which battles to fight.

3) And that personal plan must be followed with confidence and focus, but with an ability to be flexible and spontaneously adapt to change – especially when that comes in the form of injury. A successful warrior can adjust his/her plan, strategy and tactics in the face of the unexpected, turning any misfortune into gain.

4) Knowing yourself also goes hand in hand with knowing and understanding your enemies.  “If you know the enemy and know yourself, in a hundred battles you will never be defeated… If you know neither the enemy nor yourself, you will succumb in every battle.” Chris McCormack is one such King of Stratagem. This two time World Ironman Champion devotes a considerable amount of time to understanding his rivals, their habits, their vulnerabilities, their limitations and their strengths, as well as developing relationships with those who may help further his own cause.

5) But in Kona 2007 ‘knowing thy enemy’ couldn’t have been further from my mind – I knew hardly anyone. So it was another of Sun Tzu’s pearls of wisdom that proved more helpful to me that day. “At first exhibit the shyness of a maiden, until the enemy gives you an opening; afterward emulate the rapidity of a running hare, and it will be too late for the enemy to oppose you.” And that’s exactly what I did, at about 110km on the bike. Then run rabbit run.

6) The essence of Tzu’s teachings, though, is that true success comes from defeating your opponent without a struggle. This alludes to the need to break your opponents will to win without a fight, thereby negating the need for a strength sapping head-to-head battle. The clever competitor imposes his will on the opponent, and he does not allow the opponent’s will to be imposed on him. I remember watching Daley Thompson finishing a Decathlon having crushed his competitors, but making it seem like he had done so without even breaking a sweat. Of course that wasn’t the case, but it was this apparent ease of victory that was the enduring memory in his opponents’ minds, and which gave him additional ammunition next time he toed the line.

7) But the enemy is so much more than your competitors. We are all fighting the course itself – the terrain, the heat, the humidity, freezing water, hellish head winds. The Chinese sage would say, do your research, know your battlefield and plan accordingly.

8 And of course we are also engaged in our own personal war of attrition. Battling the enemy of self doubt, of discomfort, of the little voice telling us to quit, and of the dreaded adversary that is ‘ GI’ (distress) Jane. Although we all suffer disillusionment or motivational slumps, victors have developed a call to arms that can fuel their fire and reignite their passion and courage – whether it be a mantra, a poem or even a picture of a loved one taped to the top tube of their two wheeled bullet. Moreover, these warriors are buoyed by an inner self belief, which immunizes them against what naysayers might utter or do – knowing that the battle cries of others are often like an unloaded gun.

9) Any victory is, of course, hollow without being founded on respect for one’s adversaries, for the environment, for the sport and for all those around you.  The ego must be kept in check, and the true warrior must always remain humble. I have always said that it is not the finish times or the number of wins that I want to be remembered for, it is the manner in which I won them – fighting clean, fighting fair and doing so with a passion and joy that inspires those around me.

10) Finally, Sun Tzu made clear that we do not fight alone. Triathlon is an individual sport, but every athlete needs a small,committed army of advisors and supporters – Tom Cruise’s ‘wing men/women’ to help us achieve our mutual goal. Seek help and advice, learn from others and treasure your comrades, respect them and nurture the relationship and remember that without them you are fighting a losing battle.

Bella was right. We are all waging our own personal wars on the triathlon battleground, with the aim of achieving the inner peace that comes from crossing that hallowed finish line. So, when that canon fires on 8 October over Kailua Bay, despite my bruises, scars and war wounds rest assured I will be ready to fight the best fight possible in my own battle to regain the title of World Ironman Champion.

We have a unique opportunity to make sure our sport grows and expands, and benefits all who participate around the world. The key here is that all of us -  professional and age group athletes, sponsors, the media, triathlon fans, charities and others – work in partnership with the WTC and other race directors/organisers for the betterment of the sport.  Every stakeholder is valuable, and all should have an input to the way our sport is governed and organized.

Of course, a caveat: I acknowledge the difficulty, and prematurity, in making a final judgment on the effectiveness of the KPR in reaching the stated goals of the policy at this moment in time. We will need years to see the effects on the field sizes and race results, impacts on levels of media and sponsor interest and also any implications on the athletes’ long term health.

And it goes without saying that, people may not agree with all, or any, of what I have written – but that’s fine. My aim is not necessarily to elicit support for my arguments, it is to galvanise discussion and debate and ensure that voices across the board are heard. At this point I would also like to thank the WTC for eliciting input from professional athletes, including in the development of the KPR and by holding several informal meetings in the US over the past few months. It will be important that options are also sought from athletes living in other continents, and that we develop a more formal mechanism for structured, regular dialogue.

Overall, I agree that a new system was needed to ensure that the professional field at Kona is commensurate with it being a World Championship event. That is, the best ironman athletes in the world should have the opportunity to be on the start line, with the concomitant need to also reduce the field size. The KPR is definitely a step in the right direction, but I believe it requires refinement in a number of areas if the system is to truly enable the stated goals of the policy to be achieved. Some areas for consideration are:

• The KPR system does not necessarily reward good ironman performances to the value that one might expect.  To me, the KPR rewards ‘smart 70.3’ racing, rather than being a ranking of the best ironman athletes in the world.  For example, Mary Beth Ellis won IM Austria (in 8.43) and Regensburg yet does not qualify in the first round, needing to race Ironman Canada to secure her slot. I would not have made the first cut despite winning two Ironman races and a 70.3 before the 31 July deadline.  Kristin Moeller won an ironman, came 2nd in another and reached top 10 in a number of 70.3s but i don’t believe she has qualified.

• Some may argue that the onus is on the athlete to select races that have the highest points, racing more strategically so that they can accrue the maximum number of points with the minimum amount of effort. Yes, there is an argument for this, but we don’t all have choices about where we can race. Some pros are limited by their country of residence, others by travel budgets or even jobs/family.

• So, yes, racing ‘smart’ is important, but I still believe that the system should, above all, reward those that win/podium in any ironman race, and whilst 70.3s should contribute to the overall total, they should not be so heavily weighted. At no time should any 70.3 be worth more than an ironman, because the KPR is a qualification system for the World Ironman Championships.

• From an initial analysis of the data (and please bear in mind that maths is not my strong point, and so would freely admit that my calculations could be incorrect!) it seems that, because the women are competing for 30 total slots, they are having to race more, than the men who are competing for 50. Those at the cusp of the men’s cut off have done far less IM racing than their women counter parts.  In short, some data suggests that the women are racing more to accrue sufficient point to get to Kona. This could lead to burn out and injury amongst the women especially.

• I believe that 1 September is too late for athletes to know whether or not they have a Kona slot. Contrary to the stated objective, this policy could actually decrease the quality of performances at Kona as the (second cut off) athletes simply do not have the time to prepare effectively.  Also, on the matter of scheduling – if two of the $100,000 races (eg Germany and New York) are not until July-August this could reduce the likelihood that athletes will actually participate, given that they would rather earn points (and secure a high ranking) as early as possible – or the athletes that race these races will go into Kona tired.

Prize Money

• At present, the low ranking races the prize money is trifling – especially given that ironman athletes cannot race as often as short course athletes, and therefore have less capacity to make a living from prize money (eg the winner of a 1000 point race gets a paltry $4500). Coupled with this the majority of athletes are not getting support for travel or accommodation. Many are actually left out of pocket and unable to actually make a living.  Higher prize purses, across the board, would attract more media and potential sponsors, and will benefit all associated with the sport. The recent 5150 Championship race in Hy Vee is a superb example of how a high prize purse attracts a high class field, and media/sponsor interest.

 Suggestions:

• I believe that the policy that all athletes, including previous champions, should have to validate their slot with an ironman race is correct and should remain in place. However, the value of an ironman win (especially first and second tier races) should be higher. At the very minimum, winners of a first and second tier IM race should get enough points so as to secure them qualification for Kona. Perhaps the difference between the points for an Ironman win (1^st, 2^nd and 3^rd tier) should also be reduced – a suggested breakdown could be 3000, 2500, 2000.

• I feel that 70.3s are too heavily weighted, and only 2 should count. And the points from the 70.3 Championships should not count for so much towards KPR. Perhaps the points for 70.3s could be 1000/750/500.

• On timing, perhaps the final KPR should be published by, latest, middle of August so that athletes can dedicate the time to training and preparation warranted for participation in a World Championship.  It could be argued that there should be no 4000 point races after the first (July) cut off and perhaps the World 70.3 Championships in Vegas should be (2 weeks perhaps?) earlier, giving athletes who also wish to race Kona time to recover and prepare.

• If the statistical analysis shows that women are having to race more than men to secure a Kona slot, the WTC may wish to consider increasing the women’s field at Kona to 35, to try to limit overracing.

• The venues for Regional Championships (and maybe) second tier races could be rotated. That is, IM Frankfurt doesn’t always need to be the p4000/high money – or championship level – race.

• We need a minimum prize money purse – a baseline of $50,000 for Ironman and $25,000 for 70.3 races. The Kona prize purse should be increased which will attract media attention. All prize purses should increase over time. There could also be additional bonuses for World and Course Records, and more frequent allocation of primes.

• The KPR list should have more than just points. There could be links from each result to the results page of the race those points are from. This is further advantageous to WTC because it builds a connection between races/points/pros. With some infrastructural data connections, the point system would be easier to audit and also more powerful as a marketing tool.

• It will be important that race start lists (with separate lists for pros) are published, and there also needs to be an agreement from the athlete that they will inform WTC of any non-start within a given timeframe, or incur a penalty (last minute injury/illness may have to be an exception). There needs to be consistency in the enforcement of rules; entry deadlines, attendance at pro meetings etc. Penalties need to be imposed if these rules/obligations are not met (eg reduction in points).

• Specific criteria need to be published regarding the circumstances under which the ‘Wild Card’ would be used. Further, in the policy document WTC said “We also liked the suggestion of automatic qualification for athletes meeting a point threshold at any time during the season. Since at least one year’s experience with the system is required to set the threshold, this suggestion will be revisited for the 2012 Qualifying Year”.  This issue will need to be addressed in the coming months.

• Ironmanlive online coverage has improved, but there are still many shortcomings and areas for further growth and development, in line with organisations like Rev3 (video feed, live tv coverage, having factsheets about the pros). The coverage for the recent Hy Vee 5150 Championships is to be commended, and offers a great model for exciting, engaging, entertaining and informative race coverage. Improvements will help raise the profile and help the public can engage more with the pros and our sport.

• We need to reduce the amount of drafting, especially by the women off the age group (and slower pro) men. One solution would be to send the women off 5minutes behind the male pros and then 20 minutes (at least) in front of the age group athletes.

• The cost of the one day license still seems incredibly expensive – and prohibitive for many athletes. In addition, clarification is needed regarding the criteria for awarding the license, and whether this then includes membership in the anti doping programme.  It would be useful to see the published list of criteria for determining eligibility for the scholarship membership programme.

• WTC has said that it “does not determine eligibility to race as a pro athlete”, and that “professional/elite standards are set by the national federations”. But surely consistency is required  – and the WTC should have its own criteria for who can be classified as a pro? The standards for pro level racing need to be tightened and made consistent.

• And as I said above, I think the majority of professional athletes would welcome a formal mechanism through which they could engage with the WTC, perhaps through a group of (elected) representatives to ensure effective dialogue, interaction and input into future policy development.

So these are my thoughts. My two cents on a system that is changing the face of our sport, and which I believe the professional, and all stakeholders, should have an opportunity to discuss. It will be interesting to review the system after Kona this year, and in the following months and years – a process which should be iterative and inclusive.

My parting comment is to voice the hope that the growth/profitability of the WTC does not occur to the exclusion of other race directors/organizers, and that the latter have the opportunity to thrive and prosper. Thereby enabling a wider variety of people, companies and organisations to effectively serve the ever-expanding market for triathlon events around the world, for long term good of this wonderful sport.

I thought i would post the recent column i wrote for 220Triathlon Magazine about my attempts to speed up by slowing down  

……..I lie face down on the ground, tears of relief, pride and joy dripping onto the carpet, the clock over my head reading 8.18.13. I stand up, wobble, embrace those I care about most, and prepare for the deluge of photographs and interviews. Cameras, microphones and dictaphones, mobile phones and old fashioned notebooks are thrust under my nose, and within seconds the question is asked ‘Chrissie, can you go faster?’ Part of me wants to respond with ‘there are always areas of improvement, so yes, of course!’, but the other half thinks ‘please, just slow down, let’s all sit back and celebrate this particular achievement’.

Time conscious, adrenalin loving, speed (no, not the illegal drug) seeking, yes like many of us, I live my life at 100 miles an hour. I always have done since I was a small child. Why walk when you can run? why chew your food when you can do the ‘snake swallowing a whole rat’ trick? why fold your clothes when you can simply throw them into the cupboard? I was constantly thinking of the future, wondering what it may bring, impatiently planning what I would do next. And, worried that I wasn’t making the most of everything that was on offer I spent my years living in London frantically catapulting myself between work, the theatre, sports events, dinners, concerts and training sessions. And in my rush, I would fall over, break bones, cut my tongue off (that’s another story) and cover myself in unsightly bumps and bruises. I was like the Energizer Bunny Girl – always running – figuratively and literally.

And, despite the passing of the years, not much has changed. I am still like Michael Schumacher on amphetamines. My clothes cupboard still looks like a jumble sale (in fact, I bought most of my clothes from said sales), I still eat my dinner like the presenter of Man V’s Food, shoving as much as I can into my mouth without it even touching my teeth (I make for a delightful dinner guest), I try and finish an ironman distance race in 8.18, and afterwards I can’t even slow down enough to pour the huge vesicle of beer into my mouth – instead sending it cascading over my head (I smelt like a brewery at the press conference, but was as sober as a judge).

So yes, not much has changed – I am still racing through life like a frenzied bargain hunter at a jumble sale – but I am beginning to recognize the need to slow down, take a breath and to savour the moment.

When I sliced my hand with a knife 4 days before Alp D’Huez Long Course 2007 (in a rushed attempt to hack my bike computer zip ties off with a knife) Brett had no sympathy. His words: ‘you think things just happen to you by accident. They don’t. You deserve the misfortune because you are not methodical or calm in your body and mind’. Too true. His words of wisdom ‘learn to hurry – slowly’. And, since then, in my boyfriend Tom, I have seen calmness incarnate. Yes, he is still 7mins faster than me at ironman, but he teaches me every day what it means to be unruffled, patent, orderly and yes, how to fold my clothes.

And so, post Roth, I took a leaf out of his book and used that leaf to really smell the flowers. Literally. Instead of my long run I did a long hike in the mountains around Boulder. I went on my own, with my water bottle and camera for company. The first few hours I spent climbing, rushing up the side of the hills as fast as my legs would carry me (not that fast given post race fatigue), but then I got to the top, and paused taking more than a moment to savour the spectacular view. I carried on, and began to really look at what surrounded me. Not just seeing, but soaking up the landscape and the amazing minutiae of the natural world – in particular, the plethora of flowers that were growing around me. I didn’t know their names, but the varied shapes and rainbow of colours amazed me. And instead of rushing past, I stopped, and photographed as many as I could. I saw butterflies flirting with each other, and being measured, quiet and patient I didn’t scare them off, instead they perched unperturbed on the purple petals, savouring the nectar. And as I descended into the forest I resisted the customary Chrissie urge to run – instead appreciating how the dappled sunlight made beautiful, intricate patterns on the ground beneath me. Ghandi was right, “There is more to life than increasing its speed”.

So, going forwards, I am trying to incorporate a little of this experience into my everyday life. To chew my food; to avoid simultaneously watching tv, surfing the web and talking on the phone; to rest and recover my mind as well as my body; to understand that I cannot do everything and must learn to say no; and to appreciate the moment for what it is, rather than what it is leading to.

Yes, I live my life for racing. But this doesn’t have to mean living my life like it is a race. So, with this new found, flower smelling ability in mind how did I respond to the Roth finish line inquisition?

“This was the race of my life. Let me celebrate this victory, this achievement and this moment…….But can I go faster? Of course, anything is possible!’”

I am sure those words are as alien and scary to many of you as they were to me. We are creatures of habit, we love routine, some of us are obsessive compulsive perfectionists, who come out in hives at the thought of an easy session, a nap or, heaven forbid, a rest day. But I cannot say this clearly enough. It is not the swim/bike/run sessions that will make you fitter – it is the recovery – the adaptation and regeneration – from the stress caused by those activities. As Lance Armstrong said “Whoever recovers fastest does best.” And it is not just about physical recovery, its mental recovery/relaxation too. That’s why I say that I train 24/7: recovery IS training my body to be the best that it can be.

But what form should this rest/recovery take? Space is too tight to do justice to all of the different techniques, so I have picked some of the most important.

Easy training/active recovery. The emphasis is on the word easy. If you are not being overtaken by a grandma (apologies to all the OAP triathletes) with a shopper bike then you are not going easy enough. If it goes from being a 90min spin on the bike, to a 2hr ride with a few hills then you have totally changed the nature of the ride – and its purpose. Hard sessions/days should be followed by an easy session. Also important is a cool down after a hard workout. It doesn’t have to be long, but I would suggest that you spend around 10% of your total training time ‘cooling off’ – this can also include targeted, light stretching afterwards.

Rest days. I have about two total rest days a month. This may not sound like a lot, but pros have the luxury that age groupers often don’t. We can rest between sessions, while you are juggling all your balls (not literally). There is no hard and fast rule, but I would suggest incorporating a rest day once every 7-10 days. The key is to listen to your body and its signals, irrespective of your planned training schedule. Spending the afternoon trawling Top Shop for a non lycra bargain, pulling up every weed in your overgrown garden or trying in vain to assemble an Ikea wardrobe do not count as rest. Buttock on sofa is the position to assume. Of course, linked to this is the need for an off season. I have waxed lyrical about this in previous columns. The advice is simple – have one.

To reiterate, it is NOT wasted time. Push aside any (unnecessary and self destructive) feelings of guilt or laziness, and trust that resting makes you better, faster, stronger and more resilient (and also gives you the chance to watch Top Gun for the 100th time).

Sleep: knocking out the zzz’s is something I always hated. ‘I can sleep when I’m dead’ was an oft-uttered mantra of mine. No longer. I love to sleep. We don’t all have this luxury, but I try to get 8-9hours of shut eye a night, and having a routine is key – I go to bed and wake up at the same time each day. Sounds like an oxymoron, but if my sleep is broken it is one of the first signals that I need more, not less, rest. A good bed, quality sheets and a non snoring partner/ear plugs is also recommended.

Nutrition. I covered my daily nutrition in a previous blog, so I will simply reiterate the need for triathletes to eat a healthy, well balanced diet with sufficient calories to sustain your training and lifestyle; to consume high GI carbs before a workout and during workouts of over an hour and then to ensure you refuel with carbs and protein within 30-45minutes of finishing a hard session. This can be a liquid smoothie if necessary, but try to eat a balanced meal as soon as you can.

Compression: until recently people wouldn’t be seen dead wearing tight lycra garments that resembled an Edwardian corset or a dress code at a kinky fetish club. Times have changed. Now myself and athletes the world over are squeezing our muscles into a wide variety of skintight attire without getting arrested. According to claims, these garments increase the velocity of blood flow in and to the muscles, enhance the removal of waste products and also reduce muscle damage. I wear them. They work. Just make sure that you choose a brand, like Compressport, that actually compresses (especially after a few wears and washes), rather than ending up like baggy MC hammer pants. (You could also try leg elevation to enhance the effects. But leave any headstands to those working at said fetish clubs). Also note that, despite being de riguer in the triathlon world, you may wish to hide your compression attire underneath other clothes whilst at work/weddings/job interviews. The general public can still get put off by the sight of middle aged men wearing Robin Hood tights.

Massage. No not the sort you might get at the clubs above (although the ending could be happy), but good quality sports massage. Obviously determined by what you can afford and your access to a good therapist, but I have a regular weekly deep tissue massage, and then a light massage two days before a race. Great not only for loosening muscles, increasing flexibility but also giving you a mental boost and allowing you to switch off for an hour (in between screams of pain as the therapist shoves his/her hands into your knotted hamstrings). A foam roller is a good second best.

Lastly, and most importantly. You have to relax mind as well as body – turning the switch so that you forget all things triathlon. Watch tv, play scrabble, cook a delicious meal, meditate, read a book, pet your pet, go to the movies – anything which gives your mind a break from training, from work and from the stresses of everyday ‘headless chicken’ life.

So, before you head out on your next hard session ask yourself some simple questions. Have my last few workouts been pretty sub optimal? has my sleep been broken? am I moody and irritable? do I feel overly lethargic and tired? has my appetite disappeared? do my legs feel like they have been run over by a truck? If so maybe its time to ‘chop your head off’, rent Top Gun for the 101st time and have a well deserved duvet day. And don’t forget your fetish tights.

(i originally wrote this article for 220triathlon Magazine)

I arrived in Roth on the Sunday afternoon, and settled in with my wonderful homestay family, Gunter and Doris Mollinger, and Einstein the dachshund. Which didn’t actually dash anywhere. He ate and slept. A bit like me really.

As with previous years, I was presented with an amazing Audi Q5 from Feser Joachim (www.autohaus-joachim.de) to drive around in. Driving in the loosest sense of the term, given that I am not known for my ability to handle a motorised vehicle without any bumper meets bumper action. Still, it was a definite step up from the 1986 tank that we trundle around Boulder in. The brakes and accelerator pedals both worked. A revelation.

The few days before the race were busy with drug testing – every pro athlete is drug tested (blood) before the race; the pro brief; the press conference and, of course, the social highlight that is the Erdinger Party – where I once again donned a dirndl. The fact that I was unable to breathe in this chest squeezing, cleavage creating corset was a definite limiting factor when it came to cutting some shapes on the dance floor with Belinda Granger and a lederhosen loving Andreas Raelert.

Of course, I was incredibly excited to be racing Challenge Roth, but I also felt the weight of expectation laying heavy on my shoulders. Of course, no one expects more out of me than I do, but added to this inner personal competitiveness and desire for self improvement, was the question (and in some cases the assumption) that I would once again break the world ironman distance record – lowering it from the 8.19 I had set last year. If I had a euro for every time I was asked ‘can you break the world record?’ during race week I would be a very rich girl!

My reply, as always, was “I want to try and win the race, to enjoy it and to cross the line in the fastest time possible”. The question I was asking myself was ‘will this pressure crush me, or will I be able to withstand it, race my own race and be satisfied with having given it everything, regardless of finishing time? I knew I was fitter, especially on the run, but to have an even more perfect a day than last year would be a tall order. But I guess on Sunday I ordered tall. ☺

So, race day dawned at 3.50, enough time for breakfast, a cup of the strong stuff, a read of Rudyard Kipling’s ‘If, a rub of the lucky rock that my friend Billi bought me back from the summit of Mt Everest and then it was off to the start, about 1hr20 before kick off at 6.30am.

The swim started like a Friday night pub brawl, fists, legs, arms, and other body parts were flying everywhere. Legs were grabbed and enough punches were thrown to be worthy of a heavyweight boxing title. Luckily I had sharpened my elbows and managed to give as good as I got, but that’s not to say it wasn’t disconcerting. Such fisticuffs mean that it is near impossible to settle into a rhythm in the first 200m. I just focused on keeping calm and not breathing every stroke so as to limit the chance of my goggles being separated from my shiny bright yellow swimcap, and tried to swim as hard as I could to get into a fast pack. My strategy seemed to work, and I found myself with what I knew was a group of strong swimmers, and after Round One, the boxing gloves were removed and we were all able to find a comfortable rhythm that saw me exit the water as first female, in 49minutes, around 30secs faster than last year.

I hopped onto the Slice, and set about trying to conquer the 180km, two lap course that winds its way through beautiful countryside, towns, villages, forest, farmland and of course takes in the amazing, amazing Solarerberg Hill. No superlatives can do this experience justice, you have to be there to truly experience the exhilaration, excitement, energy and passion of the thousands and thousands of people that line this hill, 5 or 6 deep in places, creating a funnel only a metre wide, just enough to fit a bike through. And at the crest of the hill, as always, were my family and friends, waving banners and body parts in equal measure. It never fails to give me a huge huge boost, not to mention a healthy dose of goose bumps and a couple of perforated eardrums.

I finished the ride feeling strong, and came into T2 with 4hr40 on the clock. Whipping on the T7 Racers, and pulling the Greepers ‘live it: love it’ logoed lace (try saying that after a few non alcohol frei biers!) toggle. And living and loving it I was. That’s not to say the marathon wasn’t without its physical lows. Parts of my body intermittently reminding me that I was cranking out sub 4min/kms and that they weren’t exactly happy about this fact. But I followed my coach’s instructions, focused on relaxing my arms, my hands, my shoulders – all the areas where tension usually builds. And when I felt the blood run down my ankle from the timing chip strap laceration I simply focused on something altogether more pleasant. Like the men up ahead.

I was popping a gel every 25mins, but the spectators were clearly not following the same nutritional strategy. I am not sure how many carbs are in an oversized currywurst, but I am sure it is rather more than the 1g of carbs per kilo of body weight per hour strategy that I try to follow. I have to say, tempting runners with the overpowering smell of bbq’ed animal parts, and industrial sixed vesicles of amber nectar was somewhat cruel – I was almost tempted to stop and sample these culinary delights, had it not been for my inability to simultaneously consume sausage whilst cracking out said min/km pace.

I went through the 21km point in 1.21 which was about a minute quicker than last year – and, although I faded slightly in the second part of the marathon, it wasn’t by nearly as much as the previous year – something that Dave and I have been working hard to address. I couldn’t believe the amount of support along the course, especially in the final few kms through the centre of this amazing town where any ear drums I had left were totally destroyed by the deafening roars of support.

I didn’t have the total race time on my watch, and although I knew I was running around 2.45 marathon pace I didn’t know my swim or transition times and so didn’t actually know whether I was over/under WR pace. It was only in the last km that someone yelled, you are on for 8.18 did I get an indication of my predicted finish time. By then I was digging as deep as I could, eeking every ounce of energy that I could from my tired legs. I actually almost felt like I was disconnected from my own body – numb to the discomfort and fatigue in my attempt to defy what I had thought was near impossible.

As I entered the finishing arena, the huge crowds carried me the final 200m, and only as I turned the last corner did I see the time, 8.18. The final few meters passed in a blur as I crossed the line, rolled in memory of Jon Blais and then lay prone, weeping into the red carpet. The pictures describe better than I ever could how I felt at that moment.

For a great set of pictures, see the amazing work of the super talented photographer, Rebecca Marshall at

http://rebecca-marshall.photoshelter.com/gallery/Chrissie-Wellington-at-Challenge-Roth-2011/G0000At0tbBAuacQ

Every once in a while sport delivers up a very special day, and I am so proud to have joined Andy Raelert, in creating another little piece of triathlon history, and to do so on the 10th Anniversary of Challenge Roth makes it even more special.

This is what I devote my life to – putting my heart and soul on the line to test my limits. But, to be honest, I still cant quite believe what I achieved – I defied what I thought was possible, and that is a wonderful feeling. That’s not to say there isn’t rom for improvement, there is – across all three disciplines. But this result nevertheless teaches me never to stop believing. It should teach you all never to stop believing too. Our limits may not be where we think they are. I hope that these performances open up people’s eyes and imaginations to new horizons and new goals.

Before the race I watched the Challenge10th Anniversary video – the text includes words like passion, emotion, support, encouragement, friendship and of course, family. It is the last of these that, to me, is the most important of all. We race as individuals, but we cannot compete alone. As I stood by the river before the start I looked up at the bridge and saw these huge banners, held by my mum and dad, my cousins, my boyfriend and my friends who came from the UK to support me. And throughout the race there they were, jumping up and down as I went past. And at the finish line, they are the people whose arms I fall into. Without the support of my family I wouldn’t be able to do what I do. They are the reason I am able to achieve my dreams, and I credit all my victories to them.

And more widely Felix and his family wanted to create a company that was like a global family, and he has achieved just that. From the community who welcome all the athletes year after year; the sponsors who lend unwavering support to the race; the spectators who wave flags, banners, and consume vast quantities of beer and sausages; the wonderful finish line party where we all link hands to welcome the last athletes home; to my homestay hosts – the Mollingers who opened their door to me and showed me the culinary delight that is Weiswurst (www.more-touristik.de), to Fritz Buchstaller who provides his expertise year after year to the athletes and their two wheels; and of course the volunteer party held to thank the 5000 people whose kindness, generosity, passion and energy shine for all to see.

For the third year, this race has given me something I never thought would be possible. The near perfect day, and the feeling of being part of a truly global family. And for that I am so truly grateful.

During my university days my definition of food and of drink was a curry and a Bacardi Breezer. Since then I have embarked on a slightly more healthier nutrition plan: courtesy, in part, to the pearls of wisdom imparted by my good friend, and Don of Nutrition, Professor Asker Jeukendrup.

We are bombarded with messages like ‘lose 100kg in 10 days by only eating Jelly Babies’; or ‘eat 20 grapefruits and shed 25inches in 24hours’. Forget the majority of these fads. Healthy eating for athletic performance is not rocket science (I am fortunate not to suffer from any allergies or intolerances). The basic principle is this: keep it simple, eat natural foods as much as possible, balance intake with output and everything in moderation.

I love to eat. Rat, dog and snake were consumed in Indonesia. ‘Hoover’ would describe my penchant for consuming leftovers. So, given the lack of ‘rat steak’ on sale in our local supermarkets what does my daily diet look like? First off – it is healthy, balanced – with fresh fruits and vegetables, whole grains, good fats (with some saturated ones thrown in too).

I have two breakfasts. One when I wake up, before my first session. This is a couple of rice cakes or a frozen banana, with sunflower butter and honey on top, washed down with an oversized Cup of Joe. Decaf is not in my vocabulary. After my first session I have my second breakfast, this is either hot oatmeal with another grain (like spelt/buckwheat/quinoa) mixed in, with honey on top – or a huge bowl of raw oats, nuts, seeds, dried fruit, coconut and yogurt all mixed together. My choice depends on whether I am running later in the day (if so, I chose the former, lower fibre option, to avoid a case of the ‘gingerbread man’). For lunch I have either baked potato, wholegrain bread/wraps or brown rice with salad and either tinned tuna, sliced meats, pulses (such as chick peas), and a bigger than average bowl of cereal and some nuts or fruit as a snack.

I eat meat most evenings, either fish or white meat – with red meat once a week to keep my iron levels up. I also love liver and kidneys. Horse was the red meat of choice in Switzerland. Ostrich in South Africa. On the side I have roasted/steamed/stir fried veggies, and a big pile of grains – such as quinoa, buckwheat, rice, wholegrain pasta – or potatoes. Desert is always a bowl of cereal, and frozen berries. I have olive oil on everything. Even porridge.

I don’t deprive myself of any foods. Nothing is ‘naughty’ – it is just eaten in moderation. A few pieces of chocolate a day definitely doesn’t do me any harm, and as for pizza – well, I can always squeeze one of those in – especially when on a training camp with Cat ‘Masterchef’ Morrison who cooks the best pizza this side of Rome. If my training sessions are longer than 90mins I swig Cytomax energy drink and/or a gel or two. On longer rides I always have energy drink, a couple of gels and a chocolate bar, to replicate the race. Immediately after a hard session I make a smoothie – with frozen pumpkin, ginger, Muscle Milk powder (cake batter is the dogs danglers), blackstrap molasses (for iron), lemon juice and water…….blended into deliciousness and downed in one.

In the two days before an Ironman I stick to plain, simple food to maximise my energy reserves and limit any possibility of ‘gingerbread man’ distress. The day before I have a bowl of porridge with tahini and honey. Lunch is a couple of white bagels with cheese and olive oil. Dinner is tuna pasta with a tomato based sauce. With – yes you’ve guessed it. Oilve oil. On race morning I have rice cereal with honey and nutbutter stirred in and a cup of coffee to ‘get things moving’. Aside from water, I don’t have anything else until I’m on the bike, when I have two bottles of Cytomax (400 calories in each), two gels and a small chocolate bar. On the run I have one gel every 25minutes (that’s 1g of carbs per kilo of body weight per hour) with some water, which mainly goes anywhere but in my mouth.

Immediately after the race I crave chips, a kebab, pizza or burgers, and tend to indulge in more than one. My world record breaking two large burgers, two plates of chips, one plate of onion rings and 15 donuts after Ironman Arizona last November could have been deemed to be slightly excessive though!

I don’t claim to have all the nutritional nuggets, and much of it is down to trial and error, with some common sense and a few episodes of Masterchef. But next time you fill in your log book make sure you’ve paid as much attention to this hugely important pillar of success. And, if you are in Indonesia, reach for ‘rat in a bap’. It never did me any harm!

Published in 220 magazine in April 2011

I arrived in Lawrence the Wednesday before the race, enough time for a couple of visits to the Lawrence Athletic Club. The pool was quiet, which may have been due to the fact that it was akin to a greenhouse and the water was like a bath-tub. Not being particularly partial to steam rooms, I went bright red and almost passed out into the arms of an elderly aqua aerobics fanatic.

As with the previous 2 years, I had the honour and pleasure of hosting a dinner for about 60 age group athletes in the Sunflower Bike Shop, in downtown Lawrence – with all the proceeds going to the Blazeman Foundation. It was a great evening, with many of my sponsors providing awesome raffle prizes to make sure that many of the attendees went home with more than just a smile and a dubious picture of yours truly. It was great to meet some of the athletes and get to spend some time talking to them and their families, whilst consuming industrial sized bowls of pasta.

I want to thank everyone that came to the dinner, and have directly helped to support the important work of the Foundation. Specifically, I want to mention a couple of people. First, Rodney, who I met at the race last year. He was spectating and gave me every excuse under the sun about why he couldn’t do a triathlon – bad knees, no bike, unable to swim. I must have utilised my best words of encouragement because there, at the dinner, donning his race wristband, was Rodney. Did he finish his first triathlon? You’ll have to continue reading to find out! Second, I want to mention a very special man called David Rankin. David sent me an email asking if he could race me at Kansas. He was getting donations for every minute I beat him by, with all the money raised going to the Blazeman foundation (but if he beat me? I would have a hefty price to pay!).

I have to admit to being slightly nervous going into the race – I had broken my rib 3 weeks before, in a bike/rain/tarmac Muppet incident. My preparation had consisted of a few swims, hours and hours on the cross trainer and ditto for home trainer sessions on the bike. Plus, a lot of single legged squats in the gym. My rib might have been cracked, but I had buns of steel. Despite tight buttocks my preparation had been decidedly suboptimal.

The race kicked off at 6.30am. The pro men first and the pro women 2minutes later. The lake in Clinton State Park is beautiful  – you couldn’t wish for a better setting for a race. I could have wished for a better swim though. I came out of the water third, but I definitely felt the effects of time spent out of the pool. Less single legged squats and more bicep curls are needed. Once aboard the Slice I have to admit, I didn’t really feel the mojo, and was unable to catch Leanda who was biking like a demon. I just had to keep reminding myself that we still had a 13mile run, and never to let my head or my heart drop – even if my body didn’t feel like it was firing on all cylinders.

I felt a little stronger as I finished off the 56miles and peddled into the Park and T2, with fire in my belly. I put any nagging doubts to the back of my mind, and set about trying to hunt down Leanda. I felt fluid and powerful, and managed to take the lead after 7 miles. Leanda pushed me every step of the way though, and that’s what racing is truly all about.  As usual the course was lined by a huge number of spectators, dressed in all manner of costumes (sadly the blow up doll from 2009 did not make an appearance. Clearly deflated), but I did count about 10 Dorothies, who have clearly bred like rabbits since last year.  The ‘ironman band’ had also returned and  were belting out endurance based audio delights, like Chrissie Comes to Kansas (http://teamwms.com/ironband/)  - very inspirational. This was followed with ‘No Sleep Til Kona’, which was slightly less appealing.

I was overjoyed to run a 1.16. Yes, a minute slower than last year. But, unlike 2010, the run course was accurately measured. Save for a couple of steady jogs, I had done all my run sessions on the elliptical for the previous 3 weeks. I hope that this gives anyone with an injury the confidence to know that cross training really does pay off. You have to focus on what you CAN do, not what you can’t. Keep your head held high, and never let your heart drop.

I rounded the last bend and faced the Yellow Brick Finish Line, complete, as always, with all the Wizardy characters – I was pleased to see that the Tin Transvestite had returned, complete with a new midget Lion – which was actually 6 year old Hayden, the race director’s son. Full of courage.

As I raised the banner above my head, and then rolled in memory of Jon Blais – I was filled, as always with a sense of joy, pride and happiness as I secured the three-peat at a race that has come to mean so much to me. And that wasn’t the end of the celebrations. I stayed around for about 4 hours afterwards, chatting to people, giving out medals and handing out culinary post race delights such as mouldy banana and a soggy pretzels. And yes, welcoming David (our ‘race’ raised over $2000 for the Foundation) and Rodney, across the line. Last year Rodney couldn’t swim a stroke. He is now a 70.3 finisher.  I hope this shows that, as Eva Cassidy sang, so much better than I ever could:

‘Somewhere over the rainbow

Skies are blue

and the dreams

that you dare to dream

really do come true’