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!
