My last post ended on a positive note. The struggles leading into Noosa were surmountable as I was able to post probably my best ever result in the most competitive field I’ve ever raced in. I was hoping that my struggles with injury were over, that this period would be a brief footnote in an otherwise enjoyable and successful season.
These positive feelings were dashed almost immediately. I pulled up incredibly sore in the medial-tibia (inside of both calves), added with a new tingling sensation running along the aforementioned area. Each injury has presented an even greater mental/emotional hurdle to overcome. In the past six weeks I’ve had various MRI’s, ultrasounds, blood tests and x-rays. We are still searching for a definite answer to what is causing my legs to tingle at the faintest hint of running or cycling. Neither of which have been performed beyond ten minutes since early November. Mentally ‘not-knowing’ has made the process a lot more difficult than something definite with a set timetable of recovery such as a stress-fracture. Moreover it’s been hard to lose that feeling of fitness and to see my pre-Noosa physique (6.9% body-fat) disappear under a sea of cellulite.
Tomorrow I’m having a full MRI done on both my calves, that ‘should’ give me a good indication of what I have. FINGERS CROSSED!
These injuries were a result of a number of factors, most of which can be attributed to personal failings of mine, overtraining, pushing through pain and not effectively communicating with people. Accepting this is both difficult and painful. I found this article from Dr Ross Tucker from the Sports Scientists on the principles of success in business and elite sport. His comments about the nature of failure were extremely interesting, and has been a decided influence in my future plans.
The paradox of failure is that those who wish to be successful are also those who are best able to fail – the “good failures”. Being a “good failure” means understanding that innovation, progress and improvement are never smooth processes, that failure is inevitable, and is an opportunity to learn. It’s not really failure, even, but rather the successful learning about what did not work! A good failure requires one to learn from previous failings.
It is quite clear that this year hasn’t worked out as I planned, not only from an outcome, but more so a process standpoint, to that end I’ve made a number of big decisions regarding next year…I’ll get to them later.
Fortunately I’ve been afforded some measure of ‘sanity-saving’ in the form of swimming. On that note I’ve been able to race in two open-water swim races. Writing about swimming races brings back similar emotions to a few exams I had at university. In both instances I’m trying to write on something at length with very little information of the matter. My last exam at ANU was such an example, I was given one hour to write on the border disputes in Kazakhstan, highly relevant stuff! Beyond knowing there was a dispute between two groups (whose names disappeared from memory the instant I walked out the exam) I knew nothing, it required some serious padding! In the same sense there is only so much one can write about a swim race: the scenery is sparse, there is no real interaction with anyone else and it’s over pretty quickly. Looks like some padding is in order!
The first of these swims was the Funkytrunks ‘Splash.’ The aforementioned ‘splash’ served as a euphemism for a 2500m open water swim. As is the case with open water swims, the course always looks considerably longer and more intimidating than a run/bike course of similar length. My warm-up consisted of swimming the 50m over to the start line, running all over the start line trying to find a good position and talking trash to fellow EnduranceTeam members.
I started well to the left aiming to take the most direct line to the first bouy 150m out to sea, this proved as a mistake as the main pack of what would be the super-fish started about 20m to the right and although I had a shorter line I missed the draft. Up until the 400m I was holding onto a precarious position with the leading few swimmers, this ended when the person in front of me stopped to adjust her wetsuit, the inevitable happened and I was off the back solo. I waited up and got onto someone’s feet. I went from one extreme (lactic acid pain) to the other, as I spent the next 2k’s barely kicking and doing semi-catchup, yet going around him (I tried a few times) showed that I was not going to A. drop him and B. increase the overall pace by much. Apart from a basketball sized jelly-fish bobbing worryingly close past my head and the resulting minor-panic attack and turbo boost of speed to ‘get the f—- away!’ there wasn’t much to report. Luckily we were blessed with near-perfect conditions, no wind and a clear sky. Our duo doubled in size in the last 400m as we caught one person and another (ET member Michael McGuire) caught up to us after a brief stop earlier in the race. Rounding the last bouy with less than 150m to go I came around my draftee and put on my best impression of a helicopter (think flailing limbs, adopting a quantity rather than quality approach). I passed my swimming buddy, but to my chagrin Michael and someone else had similar ideas. We exited the water in a horizontal line, fortunately (for me) the unnamed tripped over his feet (a specialty of mine), one down! However Michael just pipped me in the sprint to the line. I finished with a time of 32:09 for 2500m finishing 2nd in open and somewhere around 7th overall (Still NO results a week on). Altogether it was a fun race (as is possible with open water swims) but the best thing was the finishers t-shirt, the coolest I’ve ever received!
I had a pretty standard week on the injury front, with six separate appointments for diagnosing and treating my ailments. On Friday I had a blood test, my first in 3.5 years, not being a fan of needles it wasn’t the most pleasant experience. The (probably German) technician wasn’t the most understanding of people, operating with a brutal efficiency in keeping with the most base of Germanic stereotypes.
Saturday morning was another open water swim race, using a popular political euphemism I had gotten a little ‘tired and emotional’ into the early hours of the previous night (first time in many months) so wasn’t on my A-game that morning. To rub salt in the wound I had forgotten my wetsuit (the water was at best 16c!). I started badly, drifted further back and then lost a few more spots at the finish. Swimming in cold and very choppy water, without a wetsuit and a raging hang-over was a deserving punishment for my frivolities of the previous night.
The ET crew….I had about 4 layers on was so cold after the ‘race’ (survival would be a more apt term for me)
It’s been an interesting year moving back to Melbourne, as much as I like to complain about Canberra it had a number of redeeming qualities, first and foremost being its relative size. I could leave college at 5.53 and be there for the opening of the swimming pool doors at 6am. In Melbourne I need to leave the house at 4.40am to get there for a 5.15am start. The drive home normally takes 40mins. On average I was spending between 90-120mins in the car a day, and that wasn’t on days I drove to Geelong. The constant driving really got to me, and affected my recovery, took away time I could’ve spent with friends and family and just generally made me grumpy. With my injury over the last four months, and all it ensuing appointments, time in the car has only increased! In all likelihood my season is over, with even a best case scenario of instant improvement, It would take me months to get any form of ‘acceptable’ fitness back. To that end I’ve decided to go back to university full-time and get my Masters in International Relations. Getting my Masters out of the way means I will not have to worry getting a degree further down the track, especially if I am serious about triathlon. Moreover taking away the pressure of returning to full fitness ASAP will take a big burden of my shoulders, I can focus on my weakness (my swim) and enjoy cycling and (especially) running in its purest form, just for the sake of doing it. I’ll know when I’m ready to race again. On thing about injury is that it tests how much you really want something, I can’t emphasise enough how much I’ve missed being able to train. It has reinforced that I love what I am doing and that I am in for the long haul! My undergraduate degree has courses credited from Melbourne Uni, Monash Uni and the majority from the ANU. I prefer smaller universities where I live on campus, it’s a 50min trip for me to get to Melbourne (something that I struggled with this year). Moreover I wanted a place where I could train easily, have good weather and spent as little time as possible in a car.
Speaking to my mum one Wednesday I suggested Bond University. In her typical fashion she grabbed upon that opportunity and the wheels were set in inexorable motion. On that Friday I had a meeting with a Bond advisor and on that Sunday I had flown to the Gold Coast, that Monday I had sent in my application, all in the space of five days! What attracted me to Bond was its small size (1/10th as many students as Melbourne), being able to live on Campus with rooms that overlook at 50m pool whose squad contains people such as Ky Hurst and Courtney Atkinson.
The pool at Bond…I’ve got a feeling we will be seeing A LOT of each other!
Effectively the whole university at Bond (including accommodation)
The weather is close on perfect for triathlons, and even better, with a tri-mester year, all my contact hours would be done by August 18!! Not the end of November at Melbourne/Monash/ANU. This Friday past I accepted my offer into Bond, I look forward to starting there on the 6th of January. On completion of my coursework I will plan on spending the majority of my time in Geelong with only Fri-Sun in Melbourne. Being in daily contact with my Coach Jarrod Evans and the rest of the squad should provide a competitive advantage. I’m hoping that these plans will lay the foundation for a much more enjoyable/productive year than unlucky 13.
Til next time.
Hoping to be on the other side of this fence in the near-future.
