The Marathon is calling.

Thoughts of Days Past and Days to Come

Fifteen years ago in July, I ran my first and only marathon (Gold Coast Marathon). Granted, I'd run dozens of half marathons and enjoyed them a lot. The full marathon was something I'd always wanted to tick off and so it came to pass. Only not the way I'd envisaged.

The day dawned bright and sunny, if very chilly. Tens of thousands of people were lined up, from all corners of the globe. Including me, from Brisbane :-).

The race kicked off and it took awhile before I could actually move through the swarm of racers. I kept up a good pace (in my terms) of a little over 10k/hr with the thinking in the last few kilometres I could push things to the end and hopefully get a good enough time for my first effort.

Things were going well, with bizarre individuals lining the course in all manner of dress, including a jazz band that I should have stopped and listened to for awhile - they were awesome.

I'd covered the first 30k in under 3 hours and was feeling pretty good and chuffed with myself. I was running within my boundaries and felt "I got this", especially after the months of training I'd laid down prior.

At the 36k mark my world came to an abrupt halt, with my right knee caving in under me. I'd always had major troubles with my knees since a teenager and despite wearing orthotics they'd never been a bastion of strength. Still trouble me today too.

The last 6k's were walked through a stream of sweat, pain and tears as the pain was excruciating. Still I wanted that bloody finishers medal and despite calls from some medical staff to stop, there was no way in hell I was about to do that with the finish line so close. As it was, I crossed the line in 5hr 15mins. I fell to the ground and after the pain subsided tried to stand to walk to the car, but that proved stupidly difficult as my knees were so weak and seized up.

But I got there. Crossed the line and I still feel proud of that effort, grit and determination.

So this time, I'm having another go, with better results I hope. Training so far has been going well and I have plenty of time yet to get some big miles in to test how my body will stand up.

Stay tuned for updates.

Krunkers Weekend in the Mountains

Lanterne Rouge: According to Wikipedia, "the "lanterne rouge" is the competitor in last place in a cycling race such as the Tour de France. The phrase comes from the French word for "Red Lantern" and refers to the red lantern hung on the rear vehicle of a passenger railway train or the brake van of a freight train, which signalmen would look for in order to make sure none of the couplings had become disconnected. In the Tour de France the rider who finishes last, rather than dropping out along the way, is accorded the distinction of lanterne rouge". This is me, and this is my story.....

Day One

Being invited to the "Krunker's" weekend trip to the mountains was a great experience. After seeing all the "bike porn" on show, and the seemingly athletic ability of the guys I was a little intimidated. However that was quickly dealt with by the inclusive and friendly nature of the "boys" and despite being consistently the "laterne rouge" of the group (more on that later), I had an excellent weekend of adventure, bucket list "checks" and an awful lot to drink...

A cobbles bike in the mountains.

Stop "fettling" guys and get moving...

More "faffing" around.

Some of the "Bike Porn" on show

Mt Buller

The weekend started with the ascent of Mt Buller. We'd journeyed through an endless sea of outback bushland, open fields and small, forgettable towns that made me wonder aloud "what the hell do people do out here?"

We stopped initially at Merrijig, a "town" consisting of a pub, a few rental townhouses and a "resort" of sorts. This was to be our kick off point for the assault on Mt Buller.

Heading outbound through rolling terrain, the going was easy paced. One of the crew however wasn't feeling too well, so I chose to ride with him and take things easy. The motto (that of the Band of Climbers in Europe) of our little crew back in Melbourne "together we climb" ensured I wasn't about to leave him on his own.

The others went ahead and we rode at the back, slowly and ever upward. After 20 minutes, Liong was feeling more unwell and decided to turn back to the cars. I decided to go on and summit, after all I didn't come all this way to Victoria not to ride the big hills.

Slow down, I can't focus that quickly for God's sake!

Maybe he's "specialized" after all???

Ugly bastard :-) - definitely not specialized...

LOOK , it's Liong

No snow - so there's nothing to see here (as the pollies would say)

Few people about, but who needs them.

On Top of Mount Buller on a perfect day.

The ride to the summit involved a gradual ascent over pretty good roads, winding and heavily vegetated. It was exhausting in the sense the effort that was required needed to be metered out over time, rather than my normal "steep pinch, go hard, get over it, then relax for a bit" style of riding.

After coming back down, the group then headed towards our destination of Mt Hotham where we'd be staying the the next two nights.

The roads were narrow and (in places) pretty ordinary, and we stopped at a place called Tolmie for lunch. A "quaint" pub in the (yes, really) middle of nowhere. The meals were big and greasy, a fat-attack (heart attack?) in the making. But the talk flowed and everyone got to know each other better (those new to the group, including myself). Turns out there were a couple other Queenslander's in the group.

The view from Powers Lookout on the way to Mt Hotham.

Bit of a history lesson about the bushranger Ned Kelly.

The Krunker's....

Smile for the camera.

Leaning towers in the town of Bright at the base of the big mountains.

Day Two - Mount Hotham.

What a giant bastard of a climb Mt Hotham is. I started early (ahead of the mountain goats) so I wouldn't be the last one up the mountain. Starting in Harrietsville it's an easy, undulating roll to the first mother of a pinch, affectionately called "The Meg". This comes as you round a bend, after several k's of up and down sweeping bends. You see the sign, then you see the steep climb, and your heart rate goes up in direct proportion to your mood going down. F#$% this is a steep b#$%. But then you've over it and it's now an exhausting (but not too bad) scenic grind to the final 10k where all the real fun starts. The views along the way are well worth stopping for just to take in the beauty around you. Take them in friends, and get your heart rate down....

The real action happens at a climb called "CRB". This thing (for want of a better word) seemingly goes (up) forever. You see a bend in the road, your heart swells with pride knowing you've finally made it after all the toil and tears, sweat and profanities. You stand and surge on the pedals to get around it thinking the top is finally here and you're "home". But then (after several more lovely descriptive adjectives) realise that this is a falsehood, designed to break you for the climb is not done inflicting more pain on you just yet. Your confidence further erodes once you see cyclists walking towards the (hopeful) summit.

Time to grind on friends. At this time you'll be thankful for those extra low gears on your bike because they'll be getting a workout worthy of a spartan contest.

Finally it's over and you have time to actually take in the scenery, rather than the view you've had through stinging, sweat filled eyes. You've made it. Victory is yours. You've lost 2 kilo's in weight, but that will quickly be replaced by food and beer...

Does anyone talk anymore?

House design, with rooms all over..

Alpine vegetation

Sunset  on Hotham

A beautiful tree lined promenade to lull you into a false sense of security.

Harrietsville - at the base of the Mt Hotham climb.

View for miles.

Carnivores at play...

Top of the world.

"Latte sipping roadies".....with a view

Really? you did that???

High stakes gaming.

Some houses on the mountain have spectacular outlooks.

C',mon. what's taking so long!

Beer and food. What's not to love right? Happy days.

After a long day in the saddle (or was that eating and drinking?), time for some rest

Feeding the wolves...

Another Crack

Dreaming of Everesting (yet again)

It's never far from my mind. Every street I go up, every mountain I drive I find myself constantly thinking about elevation profiles, gradients, length etc. That elusive grey jersey.

I know there's been thousands before me, and it's no longer a new concept, but spread to all parts of the globe. Many have done it multiple times, and to them it's a walk in the park, or something to do on a day off. Much respect there.

But for me it'll be a first. Something I've waited three years to do. Something that can enthuse me, motivate me, and unmotivate me all in the space of a few minutes. For me, the task seems gargantuan and I wonder how to fit in all in with working stupid hours, going back to Brisbane every second weekend to see my family and doing running program to lose weight and complete another marathon this year. It's been 13 years. I've run a lot of half marathons etc in the meantime, but it's about time I see if I can do the full distance again.

To fit all this in, with a prospect of the project I'm working on (possibly) running out of funding soon, I have to once again go at Everesting while I'm down here on my own, with no family responsibility and plenty of time to do "stuff".

I've been convinced by a well meaning friend to have a go at Everesting this weekend. Mind you, I don't consider I've done near enough cycling, with some "Donna's" thrown in, and a few rides around Healesville of late.

I'm attempting Don Road out at Healesville this weekend. It's 5.5k's and 370m of "up", for a total of 24 laps required. The first two kilometres are reasonably steep, with the rest of the climb tailing off after that.

Another friend, Rod Aitken smashed out this Everesting in about 12 hours last year. No chance I'll even get anywhere near that. I think, if all goes OK, I'll be out there closer to 20 something hours.

Hopefully, I'll get a few sherpa's out to ride some laps with me. For me, it's always been about the mental side of things. My mind gives up far too quickly, no doubt due to thoughts about taking time away from my family etc which always produces a load of guilt. This time at least, my family are several thousand k's away, in another state (or two).

Before Saturday comes though I need to get supplies, another set of lights, some new brake pads. And the list goes on.

I'm not prepared, not fit enough, but what the hell, I'll give it a shake anyway. Time is running out and it's coming down to "now or never". providing I have extra lights, battery packs for my garmin, and enough nutrition, I'm willing to just keep going until I get there.

Bring on Saturday, and lets see what happens.

Massive stack/Moving to Melbourne/Fixie Life

Hi everyone,

The Accident

Yes, you read the title correctly. Lots has happened, yet again. This time the injury occurred because of another cyclist.

Riding home in early November (sorry, it's been awhile since I last added to this blog) I was humming along quite nicely when I needed to slow to go through a road underpass, which I knew always had runners/kids/dogs coming through from the other side. This underpass also has a steel, 3 tiered railing on the outside to stop any unwanted forays into the creek below.

Hitting the "U-shaped" underpass, there's a convex (?) mirror showing who/what's coming through underneath. I saw a woman running, so stayed to the far left to ensure we avoided each other. Just then I saw a fellow cyclist ripping through the other side, who hadn't seen the woman. he then veered straight into my side of the path before seeing me - too late. His shoulder hit my jaw, and I got flung into the steep railing, over the bars and backwards, before coming to a halt on the concrete, screaming in pain. Nurse and her husband were following along a few minutes back (a good thing) and they called paramedics etc. Washup: a dislocated jaw, fractured hip, fractured L3 vertebrae, and a LOT of morphine. So yeah, it wasn't pretty.  

The intervening weeks have been pretty shit really. Even sitting on the lounge at home hurt like hell. Bored senseless, unable to do much of anything, I still went to work! Still not sure how I managed that as every step had me wincing in pain.  The giant bruise on my hip/back finally disappeared after 3 weeks so I didn't look I'd come out of a war zone any more. But I have put on unwanted weight - a natural occurrence when you're bored stupid I guess. And then I changed jobs and moved to Melbourne...

Melbourne

The company I was working for was going through some hard times and I could see the writing on the wall, so decided to bail and take up an offer down in Melbourne. Which served the multiple purposes of allowing me to see the Hell's 500 crew and go riding up all those stupidly big mountains, hopefully complete an Everest this year (finally) and stay gainfully employed. Knowing nothing about Melbourne except that I needed to be close to the university (La Trobe), I got a unit at Bundoora, only 4 tram stops away. Bargain. Another advantage being that it's also close to Kinglake etc, and not that far (on a bike with lots of gears) to the Dandenongs, close to all amenities and I can catch a direct tram straight to the city should I want.

I haven't got a car down here (yet) because I hadn't been allowed by the surgeons to drive, run or ride (basically do anything remotely fun) for fear of exacerbating my injuries. So it's been tram/bus/train to anywhere. Which hasn't been so bad as the public transport down here is awesome.

But your weather down here sucks! After the first two weeks I was sure I was going mad as the sun never came out. Was driving me around the twist. And now, funnily enough, the sun has been out and it stays out till after 9pm. Screws with me Queenslander head! but somehow I actually like it...

The #lanewaylife is fabulous, and the coffee shops.. what more needs to be said right?

Fixie time

On Monday I bought my first "hipster mobile", a fixie from 99 Bikes in Fitzroy. Very cheap but amazingly fun. Takes you back to the basics of why we ride. Pure pleasure. I'm missing my Lapierre though. but it'll be awhile before I can get it transported down, and I needed a bike to ride (is that an addiction???) and I needed to do some exploring. walking everywhere just doesn't cut it... But the surgeons told me - you can ride, just don't fall off whatever you do. Those words scared the crap out of me. So flat pedals and flat bars here I come for awhile...

So for the next couple weeks while I'm still getting better, I'll be playing "hipster" on my fixie.

But my baby is waiting at home, ready to ride the big climbs...

Till next time...