No more Marseillaise

Writing can tend to come in fits and starts. It’s definitely therapeutic but first the one on the receiving end has to be ready to receive. Hence why there hasn’t been an entry all year. 

It’s been the year of speed and suffering. There won’t be any race reporting or details in this post. Simply a constant flow of mental regurgitation on the minimalist thoughts that bloomed from this years work. 

This year has been a progressive step backwards towards achieving the goal of gaining speed over the shorter and middle distances. At least that what you tell yourself, when in actuality, it was suggested to you that it would be in your better interests not to do an Ironman this year...or else....he says nervously. 

There is a level of joy to be found in returning to the distances that started it all. Much like finding some old favourites in the attic after times long by. A sense of familiarity that brings an ease and sense of relaxation to the affair. With that relaxing affect comes a mental ease that frees the mind up to travel faster and quicker and stronger. 

The speed on the bike and the ability to translate that to a subsequent run leg has been the most notable change. It seems to be an air of confidence when riding that has been the change. Perhaps it has always been there, lurking in the shadows of the mind, but being crowded out by a business of concerns that are unhelpful to racing. 

There were a few times when exiting the water in to T1 when there were almost all the bikes remaining and the rubber hit the pothole ridden roads only to not have the familiar sounds of a whizzing disc wheel approaching from behind. It was an entirely addicting feeling, realizing that there was certainly potential in the old legs yet. The Marseillaise wasn’t even heard once! 

What has shown to be a true, thanks to consistent and reliable coaching from the boss man, is the reliable running legs coming true each time. The harder biking has certainly drawn questions when leaving T2 with grand designs of gliding across the hard top, gracefully passing my competitors. At least that’s what happens in my mind. Yet, after a mile or so of wobbly legs and wonder as to whether the old trotters would come good, slowly and assuredly the turn over would increase and the speed would return. The American Triple T was the first sign that the strength I never thought I had was there. A small peaking from behind the trees to let me know it was there. Subsequent races illuminated the strength in the shadows, breaking the Olympic personal best and coming within a few minutes of the half Ironman PB (on a far more difficult course compared to the flat as pancake race the PB was set in). 

This all has now provided the confidence needed to chase a full distance race in 2019 at the glorious venue that is Roth. An epic triathlon event that is sure not to disappoint. 

The legs are still there for a little bit longer this season, with an eye on the late season race, as the leaves slowly begin to turn their stunning spectrum of colours, indicating that the time of year has arrived when rest and relaxation is required. This R&R will give way to the winter block that will lay down the foundations for 2019’s challenges. To be honest, I can’t wait. 

Good luck to us all!

Getting away with it

It has been a while since last writing my thoughts in to the digital diary which, lets be honest, this effectively is. Since October, the snow has come and is still coming, Donald Trump hasn't yet been impeached, Putin is still secretly plotting to annihilate everyone, Facebook has stolen all our data and Harvey Weinstein is still a perv.

What has also occurred, but with far less fanfare and importance, is training for the London Marathon and forthcoming triathlon season. As has been mentioned before on this blog, the winter training brings the chance of reflection. The long indoor sessions, cowering from Winter's chill, leaves a lot of time to reflect on the ripples that life's pond presents to us. This winter has been no different.

There is plenty of mindless sweating and exertion that happens as the peddles spin and the music blares. Yet, it is particularly during the ever lengthening runs that reflection is strongest. As fatigue naturally sets in during the later stages of a particularly long run, the mind will wonder on a every winding path to nowhere and everywhere.

One particular theme that is on the reoccurring track that seems to play on endless repeat in my ears is the theme of appreciation. Admittedly, no coincidence that this is currently the theme of my guided meditation. However, there is an element that plays out in the behind the scenes footage of my mind. The Avett Borthers have a beautifully, poignant song on their current album called "No hard feelings". It's playing in my ears as I type. The song's lyrics resonate well in a life that has been somewhat jostled in the last few years. It explores many themes, but appreciation is one that rests within me the most.

It's not the "oh, I so appreciate my where I find myself today", or, "I really appreciate that" type of saying. Yet, it's more of a getting away with it appreciated. It's like a walk through a jungle full of hazards and waiting for something to strike you down, but forever dodging each proverbial bullet. There was indeed one massive strike in that jungle 3 years ago when my father died way too early. There's no doubt that it left an indelible mark in my ledger. However, with that exception, it feels like this life that has been presented is one of "getting away with it". I have been put in a position of security and safety, somehow, and it seems like I'm just getting away with it. This particularly popped up on to the film screen of life last night whilst playing indoor footie. My body has been letting me get away with plenty for the last few decades. Last night however, it was the first time I wondered to myself whether my ankles would have many more games in the tank. That is a fucking depressing thought to have.

There are many more miles left in the straight and narrow, singular approach that triathlon and long distance is. Yet, the side to side and gyrating side of sport may not be long in to my future. This is what brings that thought of getting away with it to the forefront of my mind. Meditation currently asks the question "what is it that you truly appreciate in life"? However, this reflection shows ripples that ask the other form of that question: what have I gotten away with for so long? People will argue you that this is indeed a odd form of appreciation, which is a fair point. However, the approach can be slightly different.

In two weeks, I'm sure I will have plenty of time to reflect further on this question bouncing around in my mind as I run the London Marathon. I can not wait for the experience. It is sure to be one like nothing ever experienced. Hopefully, the body will hold true and the ankles stay strong for the long run around London. Crossing that finish line will signal that the season is well and truly underway and the only thing standing between me and a long season of racing is work. The schedule is attempting to race 4 half IM distance races in 6 weeks, which, quite frankly, was a mistake at the time but is now a "fun" challenge. It shall be a lesson is recovery and intelligent training and racing. We shall see if I possess either. This endurance lark is a trip in to the unknown. I don't feel the need to see if i can go further, but whether we can reshuffle and reinvent how the endurance is tested. Some would argue it is a form of therapy. It's easy to see their reasoning, but if it works, it's probably the most expensive therapy in history and insurance isn't covering this one.

The London race report should be the next to follow. If my mind during the long runs is anything to go by, there is sure to be some mental stories to tell, along with the external ones.

Good luck to us all!

 (I don't proof this shite. So all the mistakes are unintentional and pure written diarrhea)