tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-43351643524835369872024-02-18T21:03:44.684-08:00ALL IT TAKES IS ALL YOU GOTAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12045003078431271229noreply@blogger.comBlogger43125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4335164352483536987.post-90311580419505049842015-01-15T20:16:00.000-08:002015-01-15T20:16:13.703-08:00The Other Side of the FenceI have a habit of learning things the hard way. Through stubbornness, I successfully dug myself a large hole after the World 24 Hour Solo Championships in Canberra in 2013. Strangely enough, it turns out that it is a fruitless exercise to gainfully crank out the watts you <em>think </em>you should be producing while ignoring your body yelling at you, "Have a break!" none too subtly via a megaphone. Not to mention the coach. So, in 2014 I decided to listen more attentively to the instructions of both. <br /><br />Those instructions included taking a decent chunk of time off the bike that could be filled with enriching experiences on the other side of the fence. So, I stepped aside from goals related to personal bests, podiums and pursuing world domination and instead sought the rewards associated with helping team mates survive their own races by riding with them, handing up bottles in feed zones, missioning out to remote places to cheer them on mid race and dishing out general advice about things I have learned (inevitably, the hard way).<br /><br />It was a huge amount of fun. Surprising several hundred people with rowdy hollering* in the middle of the forest on their second ascent of Grinder during Taupo's Huka was only usurped by passing guys on Blue Mountains while riding one handed and pushing my team mate with the other during Tour de Whitemans. I'm not sure the phrase "chicked" does it justice if you get dropped on a climb by a chick who's pushing another chick.<br /><br />The last couple of months have reassured me that there are plenty of people out there who get themselves into a right mess every weekend in the name of sport. Many of them I call friends. I guess you only need to change the parameters of those you surround yourself with to become one of the norm. MTB racers are definitely my clan. <br /><br />I also realised that handing up bottles is not nearly as straightforward as I might once have imagined from the racer's cockpit. There are a myriad of challenges to negotiate including getting to the right place, getting there on time, getting to the next place on time before your rider, being able to identify your rider among a lot of other people who look remarkably similar, not missing your rider when they come through early, not panicking when they come through late, not to mention the brief interlude during which you try to both have a meaningful discussion about how the race is going with some gentle reminders about sticking to the pre-determined nutrition plan, which rapidly spirals down to nodding and grunting that is often misinterpreted as successful communication from either side. I have way more respect for my support crew as a result. That job ain't easy.<br /><br />Taking all those lessons on board and saddling up for 2015, I was super motivated to pretty much kick ass. Coach's carefully crafted summer racing programme looked to be the perfect preparation for badass form in February and March. A dash of road stage races combined with a soupcon of punchy cross-country events was the recipe for success. One thing I have learned over the last 3 years is that as soon as something looks perfect be prepared for something out of left field. Needless to say...<br /><br />During a frivolous foray on some dusty trails while preparing for this weekend's NZ MTB Cup, I decided to take an unplanned inspection of the exit of a corner with an over-the-bars excursion and a super close up of the opposite bank. I remember thinking, "Arse!" while I watched my left hand change size then colour in the Emergency Department, while being distracted by a friend who joked that the reason I didn't "get the back end down" was because I didn't have enough bum to counterbalance it. The level of giggling only increased when the attending staff nurse informed us that the On-Call Plastic Surgeon was on her way. Butt implants. Heaven forbid. <br />
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An x-ray (confirming some broken pieces of bone in my left hand) later, I went from a <em>perfect</em> build up to being limited to a windtrainer in the garage in the middle of summer. Thank goodness for the well timed Christmas gift that keeps on giving (the <em>whole </em>Sufferfest collection) and even more timely reminders about what is and what is not possible from my coach. </div>
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Karapoti is 7 weeks away. I'm as determined to be there in kick ass form as I am to shave my right armpit properly (believe me, motivation is high), although I concede that I'd prefer to achieve the latter goal sooner than in 50 days time. And in the last 10 days I have reflected on what really is possible when you want it enough and can find ways to adapt to the various hurdles that inevitably crop up in life.<br /><br />Which brings me to a close. We are deep amidst the season for people throwing the towel in on their New Year's resolutions. By now, there are plenty of reasons stacking up not to continue working towards crushing that goal you set (like why would you uncomfortably sweat it out in the garage in the middle of summer with your arm in a cast when you could just sit on the couch and eat ice cream with your good hand and bore everyone with epic stories about the 2015 summer season that never was?). I implore you to reconsider taking the easy way out. Be stubborn about your goals but flexible about your methods. But remember, being stubborn alone won't cut it.</div>
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*I can't believe I didn't pack a cowbell! </div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12045003078431271229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4335164352483536987.post-39526322389166122502014-08-12T04:49:00.002-07:002014-08-12T12:19:32.997-07:00Cool Snaps For the Cover<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Even managed to teach myself a bit of coding!</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12045003078431271229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4335164352483536987.post-64741731976060540202014-08-11T01:55:00.001-07:002014-08-11T01:55:18.905-07:00Beware of Juniors<br />
We came. We saw. We conquered. We also nearly got a sun tan and I didn't have to spend ages cleaning my bike afterwards! <br />
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After watching the spectacle that is kiwis building snowmen on the bonnets of their cars at the summit of the Rimutaka Hill Road then driving them back home (true story), I was somewhat surprised to be welcomed by stunning sunshine in the Hawkes' Bay.<br />
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Winning the NZ National Cyclocross title yesterday was super cool. This time two years ago, I was experiencing a breakthrough in form. I was finally able to race at the level I'd always imagined I could (but never managed to quite put together). It was nice to have some evidence that I wasn't completely delusional. Achieving it with 'cross racing was probably no accident. I'd never raced cyclocross before and, to be quite honest, didn't particularly expect to kick ass at it. The beauty of 'cross is that it doesn't matter if you screw up - you actually expect to! You learn pretty fast that at some stage of the race you are guaranteed to end up losing traction at an inconvenient moment, stumble your way over some obstacle, wrap course tape around your bars, roll around in the mud and generally just feel like you're making what appeared to be a very straightforward course during your casual pre-ride seem like really, really hard work. It will rarely look graceful and it taught me to let go of trying to race perfectly and embrace the inner mongrel.<br />
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It's fair to say that the transition between stage racing and the World 24 Hour Solo Championships wasn't forecasted to include too much cyclocross racing. But, a change is as good as a rest. Spending the last 3 weeks remembering how to race a 'cross bike and reminding myself how much a 40 minute race really can hurt has been a lot of (ouchy) fun. This time of year, there isn't much that makes me smile more than going out for a shred and deliberately riding through as much mud as possible. And I even get to call it training.<br />
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Moral of the story? Try not to overthink your racing - be more bad ass than perfectionist (relax and just do your thang). Set goals and smash them - but also don't be afraid to mix it up (it might not improve your love life but it will make you a better racer). And finally, beware of juniors. Team Barnes joined us for the trip to Napier last weekend. After cruising round the course, I innocently advised 15 year old youngster, Martine Barnes, not to be scared about trying to beat as many of the racers in the Open Women's category as possible. She replied, "Yep, I will try to. I will try to beat you Kim!". Thankfully, I escaped this year. I'm going to make the most of it while it lasts.<br />
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PS This cool chick got some awesome action footage from the race...watch this space for a rad video! Big ups to all the Wellington riders shredding it and taking home five of the eight white and black jerseys that were up for grabs, with a special mention to fellow road trip buddies Team Barnes (Martine taking the Under 19 Champion title and Jonny grabbing the Under 19 bronze medal) and Rob Kilvington (Master 3 Men's Champion). Good stuff!<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12045003078431271229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4335164352483536987.post-61007388493001163842014-07-25T23:15:00.001-07:002014-07-26T00:00:58.316-07:00Return to Mt ClimieThe beauty of reminiscing. It's the mid 1990s. Purple anodising is in. Alongside way bigger chainrings, way smaller cassettes, way narrower handlebars and bull horn bar ends. Not to mention the bedazzling colours adorning lycra everywhere. Back then, my fully rigid bike weighed more than my full suspension rig does now and I'm proud to say I cut my bars down extra narrow to go even faster and raced in purple, yellow and red lycra. Oh yes. It was a beautiful thing.<br />
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Mount Climie was home to some classic kiwi mid 1990s mountain biking. And 21 years since the last race was held, we figured it was time to go back. Plus, that piece of gravel track holds a special place in my heart. Many a happy (and even the odd unhappy-please-when-will-this-end) hill rep has been had on that track in the last couple of years. And there's a beautiful view from the summit (on a clear day).<br />
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So here's the deal...<br />
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<span class="fsl">On 17th August, we'll be holding Return to Mt Climie. It's a "back to the nineties" type of race and fundraiser to help us get our wrench monkey to World 24 Hour Solo Championships.</span></div>
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You've gotta get yourself and your fine steed from the gate (at the upper car park of Tunnel Gully) to the trig. Pedalling is recommended. Pushing is a valid alternative (especially on the steep bits). It's a 4.4 kilometre almost relentless grind up 610m of altitude gain with an average gradient of 14% and some pitches up to 20%. Mr Dave Sharpe's PB up there is 29:41. My best effort is 33:40. I guarantee it will keep you honest (trust me, I'm a doctor). </div>
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If the uphilly stuff is not so much your thing then sign up for some old school drifty gravel corner downhill action. Or, even better, do both!<br />
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Race Categories:<br />
Mountain Goat (Hillclimb)- Billies (M) & Nannies (F) <br />
Gravel Ninja (Old Skool DH) – Shinobis (M) & Kunoichis (F)<span class="text_exposed_hide">...</span><span class="text_exposed_show"><br /> Mountain Ninja (fastest combined time) - King & Queen of the Mountain<br /> Best Nineties Racing Outfit<br /><br />Hillclimb will be a mass start in two waves:<br /> Pinners (9:30am) - you think you can keep up with Eden Cruise<br /> Winners (9:15am) - everyone else!</span></div>
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Downhill will be started individually with 30 second intervals from 10:30am onwards. We will NOT be able to transport you to the summit. If you are a grand mountain ninja who does not like going uphill so much, you are more than welcome to set off early for the long walk and heckle the mountain goats as they go by.<br />
<span class="text_exposed_show"><br />We will have super rad photography by Running Quail Productions (check out more of Ricoh's fantastic shots <a href="https://www.facebook.com/RunningQuailProductions" target="_blank">here</a>), cool prizes, a raffle, some homebaking as well as smiles, banter and COWBELLS!!! And a handy vehicle to transport warm kit to the top or the bottom for you while you race. And maybe a beautiful view at the summit.<br />
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Do it. You know you want to.</span></span><br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12045003078431271229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4335164352483536987.post-31530861408831223202014-03-04T11:19:00.001-08:002014-03-04T11:39:20.424-08:00Broken RecordKarapoti 2014. We did it! New women's course record. 2:45:29. Proper post race blog soon, in the meantime here's some cool shots from a special day of racing.<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12045003078431271229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4335164352483536987.post-22540250457939024572014-02-03T23:33:00.000-08:002014-02-03T23:33:37.174-08:00Old FartI seem to have fallen into a habit of starting my blogs with some sort of commentary about the ever rapidly passing of time. I have to admit that I imagined a reduction in training hours following my 24 hour racing escapades leading to some free time. Evenings spent lounging around outdoors drinking wine in the sunshine, perhaps? It's not just the somewhat variable Wellingtonian summer weather that put an end to that plan. Festive celebrations (ok, so some of that did involve vino al fresco), birthdays (some of those did too), training, work, racing and a training camp resulted in the last few weeks flying by. You know you're an old fart when you talk about time passing like that. You definitely know you're an old fart when you tell everyone on your 35th birthday that you officially did your first mountain bike race 20 years prior. And have a ding dong battle with someone who wasn't even born then. Did I mention I'd noticed a few grey hairs lately? Don't get me started.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><em>Birthday Racing!</em></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><em>Rad shot of velodrome stadium steps by Jordan Moss - Vortex Photography</em></span></div>
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I love it that I'm still (well, back) racing. While twenty years has provided me with a good deal of life experience to cultivate plenty of perspective, there is still some enduring youthful desire to do something faster or bigger or longer*. In fact, my bucket list seems to be growing rather than shrinking with items getting added to it more quickly than I can tick them off.<br />
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The latest addition to that list has been born out of a mesmerising experience following a series of little blue dots moving around the South Island, some of whom I call friends. Don't worry, I called them friends long before they were little blue dots. If you have no idea what I am talking about go and have a look for yourselves <a href="http://www.kiwibrevet.blogspot.co.nz/" target="_blank">here</a> (click on the live GPS tracking link on the right to see the little blue dots). A 1,100 kilometre mainly off road journey in one of the most beautiful countries in the world sounds like a bloody good way to spend four to eight days, if you ask me (make that closer to three days if you're Dave Sharpe, who is chomping his way through 360 kilometres a day!). And they haven't even had rain! Not to mention the Facebook photos of the food that is fuelling such endeavours (with rose tinted glasses on, I'm deliberately overlooking associated tales of bicycle mechanical woe).<br />
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<em><span style="font-size: x-small;">Photo stolen shamelessly from one of the little blue dot's (Craig Madsen's) Facebook page</span></em></div>
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The other list that seems to be growing is the one of the number of people I get to share this whole racing thing with. I keep discovering more and more people who are still lining up on start lines in various corners of the world as well as those who are just starting out with their own goals and aspirations. In fact, one of my most fun weekends of late was being involved with the Karapoti Training Camp. The "sharing the journey" bit sounds all very pink and fluffy, but it was fantastic to have a captive audience of seventeen people subjected to my enthusiasm. It's difficult to describe just how much one race can mean, particularly when it's on your doorstep, but I remember saying last year that if there was just one race I wanted to win one day then that was it. Part of what makes Karapoti iconic is that it's been held on the same crazy hard course for 29 years. That in itself seems to spur people on to get a bit more out of themselves, which was a cool thing to vibe off over the training camp weekend. See all of you for celebrations at the finish line on March 1st!<br />
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<em><span style="font-size: x-small;">Karapoti Training Camp '14</span></em></div>
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The last thing I've reflected on recently is a certain monkey on my back from junior racing days. Some dumb ass anxiety stuff related to an ever escalating self-prescribed idea of what I should be achieving on two wheels, which tends to fall short of a dose of patience. It's a great thing when it's under control but gets a bit messy when it's out of hand. Why mention this on a blog full of slick action shots and a long list of results? Mainly because it's a lesser talked about part of racing. Not for everyone, but for a good number. And as someone who formerly subscribed to a predominantly physical fitness and bling equipment path to success, I'm acutely aware there's a bit more to it than that. Yep, more pink and fluffy me and a nod that the headspace stuff is equally important for performance. And critical for enjoyment and longevity. Lesson learned - about time. Back to the slick action shots...<br />
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Good luck to everyone heading to Vegas for the National MTB Champs. My money is on a particularly closely fought battle in the women's race for the white jersey accolade, which is just the way it should be. For everyone heading to sunny Nelson for Coppermine, see y'all there!<br />
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*Youthful desire doesn't always necessarily equate to an ability to pull off something bigger...like a jump, as I discovered on Xmas Day. Should be old enough to know better, but clearly not.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRxWjxHsbG39SFVSHXDt0FkI7YYIDAMKS9WaIjlB-fa7vt6hkUvRE92Ps3CGZag6VHiU_hEkaZNIEyKS3aU08eazKZHii9vP9Hp6T1eDRfFzx0ip5cKHHyLsSLZ-aWXTNZMgpq2boAH7w/s1600/1545106_328033807335230_1829434642_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12045003078431271229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4335164352483536987.post-45381959722144301882013-12-26T20:18:00.000-08:002013-12-26T20:19:20.716-08:00K-DayNine weeks until one of my favourite races in the whole wide world. Yep, <a href="http://www.karapoti.co.nz/default.asp?PageID=6984" target="_blank">Karapoti</a>. <br />
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For the 2014 edition, I've got a few tricks up my sleeve. So, if you're setting a New Year's Resolution for K-Day (or you are looking for a race to target early in 2014 to help burn off some of those mince pies) check it out. </div>
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Firstly, there's a must-do training camp over the weekend of 25th/26th January. This is open to everyone! Chicks, fellas, newbies, seasoned hardcore racers...anyone who wants to get round Karapoti faster than they have before, or survive it for the first time! Spaces are limited. Check out the itinerary below and click <a href="https://www.facebook.com/#!/CowbellCoaching?fref=ts" target="_blank">here</a> to sign up.<br />
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<strong>Saturday 25th January - Jam packed with heaps of cool stuff:</strong><br />
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We've got downhill maestro, mechanic extraordinaire and<a href="http://www.mudcycles.co.nz/" target="_blank"> awesome bike shop</a> owner, Ricky Pincott, to take you through a skills clinic so you'll carve those gravel corners like a boss. He'll also run you through bike set-up, tyre choice and the essential tools to carry for race day to make sure you make it to the finish line. <br />
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We've got a nutrition seminar sponsored by <a href="http://www.powercookies.com/" target="_blank">Em's Power Cookies</a> to make sure you don't hit the wall on the last climb up Doper's and still have some fire power left to blast down the Gorge.<br />
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We've got <a href="http://wellingtonsportsmed.co.nz/index.php?page=GregLynch-PhysiotherapistandDirector" target="_blank">Greg Lynch</a>, awesome sports physio and director at Wellington Sports Medicine & Inform Physio (out in the mighty Hutt), to chat to you about stretching routines, injury prevention and all sorts of physio black magic.<br />
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We've got <a href="https://www.facebook.com/#!/CowbellCoaching?fref=ts" target="_blank">Cowbell Coach</a>, Lisa Morgan, to talk about training for the event as well as a guide on how to race your best Karapoti.<br />
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And, there's me...chatting about how I've ridden every Karapoti faster than the year before for the last 4 years - to help you do the same!<br />
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The best bit is that Ricky, Greg and Lisa have all raced Karapoti themselves (in fact, Lisa is the chick in the Bicycle race kit negotiating Cedarholm Creek in style in the video at the start of this blog)! So, they know exactly what you're signing yourself up for and can help you get round faster.<br />
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We're spoilt with brilliant venues for the training camp too! The seminars will be held at the fantastic facilities of <a href="http://wellingtonsportsmed.co.nz/" target="_blank">Wellington Sports Medicine</a> and skills clinic will be held at the awesome <a href="http://www.makarapeak.org/" target="_blank">Makara Peak</a> MTB Park. And there's wicked coffee available at Mud Cycles now! Then we'll head in to town for dinner (included in the price - bonus!).<br />
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<strong>Sunday 26th January - Hit the trails:</strong><br />
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You'll get a guided ride around the course you are planning to race (both Classic and Challenge options available) with heaps of tips out on the trails about how to negotiate the tricky up and down bits the best.<br />
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Not only is the training camp set at a bargain price ($100 for the whole weekend including grub on Saturday night, or an even better bargain of $75 if you are on a Cowbell Coaching programme) but your dollars will also go towards getting a kiwi mechanic to Scotland for the World 24 Hour Solo Champs in 2014.<br />
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<strong>Prizedraw!</strong><br />
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And...I'm also sponsoring a <a href="http://www.karapoti.co.nz/default.asp?PageID=21056" target="_blank">prize draw</a> for 5 womens entries for Karapoti Challenge and Classic events! Get your entry in before 1st February to be in it to win it. <br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><em>Photo credit: Craig Madsen</em></span></div>
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All part of sharing the Karapoti love. And pain. And glory. And mud. And quad burning climbs. And river crossings. And all the other stuff that goes along with the first weekend of March in the Akatawaras! Get ready to get your feet wet!</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12045003078431271229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4335164352483536987.post-63201737768343662672013-12-03T01:16:00.001-08:002013-12-03T01:16:46.921-08:00Done & DustedThat's a wrap, folks. Racing for 2013 is done and dusted. Eleven months, one stage race, two 24 hour solos, one 200 mile road race, several road races, heaps of cross country and marathon events, one new 40 kilometre time trial PB, many training sessions in the rain and wind, one very special Karapoti, some new course records, many friends, loads of Power Cookies and a whole heap of fun. This year has been awesome. Here's my list of the best bits.<br />
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<strong>#1 Racing My Own Bike</strong><br />
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Summer '13 was all about getting over myself and getting my ass back on an elite startline. Scared? You bet. Sam Sheppard needed a bike last minute. I gave her my spare. My bikes had an epic battle and when it came down to the line that day, my other bike beat my bike. It's not every day you get to race your own bike.<br />
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<strong>#2 Performance Enhancing Doughnuts</strong><br />
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I can't tell you how much I love the Coppermine Epic. Fantastic course, Nelson sunshine, cool race vibe, and a waffle cart at the finish line. This year, after some Performance Enhancing Doughnuts the night before, I set a new course record. And proceeded to refuel with waffles. Racing pre-fuelling and re-fuelling goodness. <em>(Note: Performance Enhancing Doughnuts should be consumed in moderation)</em><br />
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<strong>#3 K-Day</strong><br />
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If I could only have one day on the bike, Karapoti 2013 would be it. Smashed my PB, posted a solidly sub-3 hour time, became the first Upper Hutt resident to win, fourth fastest female ever, and snuck ahead of the legendary Karen Hanlen. It still makes me smile thinking about it now.<br />
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<strong>#4 Race of Truth PB</strong><br />
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There is something special about time trialling. Yep, a special burning discomfort in your legs. This year, while fighting the feeling, I inched closer to a sub hour 40 kilometre time trial. While emigrating added a good 5 minutes to my time (crazy kiwi chip seal), the magic sub-60 minute number now only eludes me by 24 seconds.<br />
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<strong>#5 Day In Day Out</strong><br />
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Wanna ride your bike day in day out? Go stage racing! This winter, I snuck in a trip to the Northern Hemisphere for my first time on North American soil and first stage race. Fuelled by lots of maple syrup, I survived encounters with bears, Fat Albert Racing Team, and a week long battle with Wendy Simms on the most insanely good technical cross country trails I have ever ridden. Best racing experience ever. Love you BC!<br />
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<strong>#6 Big Ass Medal</strong><br />
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Size matters, especially when it comes to medals. It took 384 kilometres and 8,500 metres of climbing in a smidgen over 24 hours on my hardtail to earn the best bling I have won to date - gleaming silver with World 24 Hour Solo Championships 2013 etched on it. You beauty.<br />
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<strong>#7 Double Century</strong><br />
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My propensity to seek out activities that tighten butt muscles and burn calories must be the reason I get the variety of Facebook diet adverts that I do (sadly, none of the ads feature Power Cookies or doughnuts). I can confirm ten hours of pedalling averaging 31 kilometres an hour leaves one with tight feeling cheeks. And smashes through 10,000 calories. That's a lot of Power Cookies. And one cronut.<br />
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Phew! What a year! Time for some down time so these guys can get some much needed rest...<br />
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Finally, as it's the season for setting new goals, resolutions or aspirations, here's a reminder from last year. This is me at Rice Mountain Classic - two years apart. Decide. Commit. Succeed. And don't forget to ask Santa for a carbon wheelset and Italian shoes (these photos are proof that a carbon wheelset makes you look faster and Sidis last forever).<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12045003078431271229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4335164352483536987.post-24997745857459643712013-11-28T09:52:00.000-08:002013-11-28T11:19:10.684-08:00Round the Big Lake<div dir="ltr">
"The bad news is time flies. The good news is you're the pilot"<br />
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Wow! Time flies. As usual, the end of November is heralded by the iconic kiwi event that involves circumnavigating a big puddle of water in the middle of the North Island. I've always loved the vibe on the journey up from Wellington for the Lake Taupo Cycle Challenge, as a procession of cars adorned with bicycles journey northwards. This will be my third time at the event, which feels like it is becoming something of a milestone for me. Lots has happened in the last two years.<br />
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The 2011 edition was all a bit of a last minute decision. I was mainly enjoying the occassional club road race and a friend, Rob Te Moana, egged me on to race in Taupo 6 weeks later. I first met Rob at a club race, initially because I was tactically astute enough to cotton on to the fact that hiding behind a big Maori fella on the flat just prior to a sprint finish wasn't a bad idea. I was contracting for NZ Army at the time and he was keen for me to join a military team. Six weeks doesn't leave much time for base training for a 160 kilometre lap of the lake (and these were my racing days prior to any structured training programme) so I opted to chalk up some of the "fun ride" events in the local area last minute, including Tour de Whitemans, Martinborough Fun Ride and Tour of the Wairarapa. Being fun rides, these aren't races (yeah, right). For Taupo weekend that year, the weather conditions were a tad blustery - in fact, several trees fell during the mountain bike race and it was called short. Accordingly, I was smug about my decision to ride on the road. I finished my "Round the Lake" roadie stint in 4 hrs and 36 minutes. All things considered, not a bad effort. I was the fastest chick round the lake and fastest military rider overall. The NZ Air Force went away with the military cup - a nice irony considering my retired Squadron Leader status. I decided then that the following year I wanted to race the Friday evening criterium (it looked like heaps of fun) and one day I wanted to tackle the two lap option (not sure the reasoning behind that decision, it just was).<br />
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Then 2012 rolled around. It had been a somewhat bizarre winter with the discovery of some additional horsepower in the legs (after some fabulous coaching guidance!) and some hidden cyclocross skills. Who would have thought riding around a park in winter could be such a revelation? And so much fun?! And that I could ride that fast?! I'm not the most observant person and provided some amusement for the Ultimo clothing boys at the expo in Taupo when I failed to notice the huge photo of my mug on the wall.<br />
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<em><span style="font-size: x-small;">Just realised what I was standing under</span></em></div>
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I provided even more entertainment when I rocked a yellow bikini around the expo with Emily Miazga of scrumptious Power Cookie (and yellow bikini wearing) fame. True to my word, I raced the criterium and had a blast. Even managed something that resembled sprinting and finished 5th. Then jumped on the mountain bike the next morning and raced the Huka XL, taking third spot on the podium behind kiwi MTB legends, Karen Hanlen and Annika Smail. I had raced Annika years before. In the Fort Bill World Cup in 2006. Although neither of us would have known it - I finished 62nd to her 16th. The margin was a bit closer in Taupo (well done, coach).<br />
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<em><span style="font-size: x-small;">Huka 2012</span></em></div>
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And here we are. Two years later. I've piloted my way through a good chunk of fun on two wheels in that time and, true to my word (just like last year), tomorrow I'm doing the two lap version of Taupo. A work colleague chuckled when I described it like that and said, "Two laps makes it sound like a 10 kilometre jaunt, not a 320 kilometre race" followed by, "How do you prepare for that?".<br />
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The answer for this week's preparation schedule seems to be run a heap of clinics, get through a load of meetings, fit in some time to sleep and eat and pack, squeeze in a couple of easy commutes to constitute a taper, work until 11 hours before you're due to race, grab a flight to Taupo, be re-united with your bike and dedicated support crew, grab a big pizza, drink coffee, maybe a nap, more coffee, throw on lycra, and jump on the bike...somewhat relieved that all you have to do for the next few hours is pedal.<br />
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Two hundred miles is a decent bicycle ride. It will be the furthest my road bike and I have travelled together (at least when its not been on the roof of the car). My personal best prior to that was the 284 kilometre Hutt to Palmerston North loop that I rode with young whippersnapper (I'm allowed to say that, he's only just over half my age), Ryan Hunt, before we both did our first 24 hour race back in April this year. It was an epic day out and heaps of fun. We experienced the bidirectional headwind which is customary for this part of the world and cruised over the summit of the Akatawaras just as the sun went down. Ryan is a great training buddy and has since told me that, one day, he wants to ride home. That's Wellington to Taupo. Three hundred and seventy kilometres. One day.<br />
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<em><span style="font-size: x-small;">Old bird vs young fella legs after a long day out!</span></em></div>
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I have fantastic sponsors. Really awesomely fantastic ones. Ones that not only support my crazy plans but actively encourage them. Ones that make a custom high visibility gilet cos it's in the rules to wear something like that (high vis, not bespoke clothing that is - thanks Ultimo). Ones that launch an extra tasty bar just in time for a long race (pretty sure that's the best coincidence ever - thanks Em!). Ones that make sure your bike will run super sweet on race day (thanks Slackboy & Mud Cycles- again!). Ones that are willing to be support crews at all times of the day or night (you've only got yourself to blame, coach). As well as friends that are willing to join the support crew (thanks Charlotte Ireland - I will repay you with shuttling!).<br />
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The gun goes at 1:30am tomorrow morning. Lake Taupo is a bigger than average sized puddle to ride around twice - actually it's the same size as Singapore. For those back in the motherland, distance wise it's like smashing it along the M4 from London to Swansea (plus another 10 miles and 3,500 metres of climbing hilly bits too). Or Wellington to Napier in NZ. And I hope to do it in good time for lunch on Saturday. Make that four lunches.<br />
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Good luck to everyone on their journeys "Round the Lake" (once, twice, or may times), at the Huka, crit, or any other way you're getting out there on two wheels. Fingers crossed for PBs and sunshine all round! Go visit the Em's Power Cookies stand at the expo and be sure to grab some Lake Taupo Cycle Challenge merchandise from the Ultimo boys. And if you pass me in the morning say hi! </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12045003078431271229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4335164352483536987.post-57478291406271369472013-11-19T00:42:00.000-08:002013-11-19T00:52:39.253-08:00Conspiracy TheoryHaving survived today's session on the paining trogramme...whoops...I mean training programme, I had a sense of dawning realisation that there is a lesser know conspiracy out there. A greater force at work.<br />
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Today, was the second time that my coach suggested an impromptu point-to-point (predictive text keeps trying to make that pint-to-pint...if only) training ride. It went a little like this:<br />
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<em>Coach says: It's sunny outside and if we go to the beach then you could ride home. Stick to the flat roads - don't ride over the hill. It should take you about 90 minutes. I'll make risotto for dinner.</em><br />
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My interpretation of that went like this:<br />
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<em>Awesome! I'll get to ride on some different roads to the usual ones. In the sunshine. And I can take it easy on the flat rather than caning myself on the hills (again). I'll be done in 85 minutes instead of the 90 minutes she reckons it will take me. And I get dinner made for me. Perfect!</em><br />
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What coach actually thought was this:<br />
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<em>Brilliant - it's sunny so this will be an easy sell. If she starts at the coast then she'll have a headwind all the way home. I'll get her to stick to the coastal road so she gets no shelter in the hills - I want to keep that resistance nice and constant through the whole session. In fact, that wind looks likes it's going to pick up - great! </em><em>There's no way she'll do it in 90 minutes but she'll bust her ass trying. And I better make dinner because I don't think she'll want to cook after this. Perfect!</em><br />
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And the real world experience was remarkably close to that last interpretation of events. And that's my second impromptu point-to-point ride this month. Both experiences were remarkably similar. And, of course, both were coach instigated. With a headwind the whole way.<br />
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For the non cyclists out there, riding in a headwind is to cycling what aqua jogging is to running. With less buoyancy and more drool. And much more swearing. When I was young(er) and impressionable, I remember reading about the strength Lance Armstrong gained from training in Texas in the wind. Hindsight suggests there was a bit more to it than that but I remember feeling some romanticism about it at the time. Lone cyclist conquering the elements. Utilising Mother Nature's force to become the ultimate athlete. <br />
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Today, I did not conquer the elements. And that idea (of utilising the weather system to become the ultimate athlete) and I fell out of love. Although, there is a certain smugness associated with sitting on the couch afterwards which is inevitably worth revisiting. More importantly, I am now certain that coaches have a direct line to Mother Nature. Next time that a point-to-point is suggested I'm going to demand to ride it in the other direction than the one recommended. And ask for a motorbike to hide behind.<br />
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For pro tips on riding in headwinds (like my favorite: <em>Get Aero. For, having got down on the drops, the aim will be to stay there as long as is necessary, which might be quite a while…</em>) click <a href="http://roadcyclinguk.com/riding/cycling-top-six-ways-to-beat-a-headwind.html" target="_blank">here</a>.<br />
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<em>Photographic evidence of me busting my ass training in a headwind wouldn't be pretty, so this blog post is photo free. Just in case it scared small children. Plus, I'm not pro enough to have a camera crew following my rides around the Wellington environs yet</em>.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12045003078431271229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4335164352483536987.post-49932821173218577362013-11-02T23:02:00.000-07:002013-11-03T01:25:15.834-07:00AnniversaryHappy Anniversary! It's officially four years since I landed in the Land of The Long White Cloud. It was a day that left an impression and a feeling that we're not in Kansas any more, Toto. They say you can't beat Wellington on a good day. And whoever they are, they're right. All along the harbour there were people out running, cycling, paddle boarding, surfing and generally doing outdoorsy stuff. In the sunshine. Kiwis, this is how the rest of the world imagines New Zealand. Maybe with the addition of Mt Cook in the background and a couple of hobbits running about. Oh, and sheep. Lots of sheep. <br />
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This weekend felt a lot like that first day four years ago. While this winter's training has been a more isolated affair - somewhat inevitably due to the inclement weather conditions, early morning starts, and long routes in the Wairarapa (which definitely satisfies Johnny foreigner's view of New Zealand and sheep) - Spring has finally sprung and both training rides this weekend involved cruising around on some of Wellington's most scenic roads. Makara Valley. Eastbourne and the bays. In the sunshine. With people everywhere doing outdoorsy stuff.<br />
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The other thing I remember that first struck me about Wellington was that there were hills everywhere! Having never visited New Zealand, my in depth pre-emigration research had been a combination of Google Earth and watching Lord of the Rings. Google Earth did not disappoint, I was gonna like living here. <br />
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I'm not sure why I enjoy riding my bike up stuff so much. I always have done. My mum reminded me recently about how I'd ask to get driven out to the bottom of a long climb and dropped off there so I could ride up it then back home. Aged 12. I think it's got something to do with watching the mountain stages of the Tour de France as a kid. My Dad used to wake my brother and I up so we could watch the 30 minute highlights package on Channel 4 late at night. We'd huddle under a duvet and watch in awe as the peloton flew up the alpine passes. Then we'd go out on our bikes the next day and pretend we were doing the same thing. <br />
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Riding with my brother made me strong on my bike. He didn't treat me like a sister. He didn't carry stuff for me and expected me to ride like the guys we went riding with. There was a strong mutual respect but equally strong sibling rivalry. It was a lot of fun. And also incredibly painful. We'd give each other a whole heap of banter on the flat sections of the ride then smash up every climb we came to. There are a lot of them in Wales. He'd inevitably get a gap and give a glance back over his shoulder with a wry smile. Just to let me know he was kicking my ass. Very occasionally, I would get the opportunity to return the favour. He has a sweet tooth, the upshot of which was that he could be bribed to clean my bike in return for chocolate. Riding together lasted right through University. Although, by that stage the bike cleaning stakes were a bit higher than a Mars Bar.<br />
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Wellington hills were a baptism of fire, in the form of quad burn. Three months off the bike, while it was stuck in a shipping container cruising from the other side of the world, didn't do much for my leg strength. In an "eyes bigger than your quads" scenario, I planned out rides that included the roads that looked the most wiggly on a map. Among the first was Moonshine Hill Road. I had to do little circles in the road on at least two occasions before the summit. You know, the ones that allow you to get your heart rate down so you can actually start pedalling again but you can kid yourself that you didn't stop or get off the bike. Yep, those ones.<br />
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Two years later, at the same time of year, I decided to get a coach. It was in a bid for a faster Karapoti time and a decision made immediately after suffering my way through the Whaka 100 having done no rides longer than 2 hours. It was an uncomfortable way to race 100 kilometres off road in the Redwoods and not a strategy that I heavily endorse. Riding up hills ad hoc on your own and being fit enough not to do little recovery circles in the road on steep climbs gets you to a certain place but some fine tuning was in order.<br />
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And it's been a lot of fun. And hard work. And all worth it. And I ride Karapoti faster than I used to, which I think will remain an annual goal for some time.<br />
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Of late, there's been a nice moral of the story bit to my posts. I guess this time it's that everyone has to do circles in the road on steep climbs at one stage or another. And with the help of a whole heap of other people you can get to the place you want to. And, while there's no place like home, there are places that do a beautiful bottle of pinot, fantastic coffee, great hills, and make you pedal faster. Those are the places that feel like home the most.<br />
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PS See you guys in the UK for a visit in less than a year. I told you I'd make it back in 5 years, sis!<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12045003078431271229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4335164352483536987.post-82174977967466124482013-10-22T01:26:00.000-07:002013-10-22T01:33:53.931-07:00Silver LiningLonger than usual. This is 24 hour racing ya know! <br />
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Watching a race unfold that you have imagined yourself competing in for 15 months is a slightly surreal feeling. When I first found out that the WEMBO World 24 Hour Solo Championships were being held in Canberra, I wanted to be there. Not just to make the startline. To contest for the title. Some would consider that a little foolhardy, having never done a 24 hour solo event in my life before. But, I was confident we could do it. Some would consider that a little overconfident, having never done a 24 hour solo event in my life before. But, they didn't know how much we were putting into it. What we lacked in experience, we would make up for in preparation.<br />
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While reading "Better Than Winning" by Ben Gathercole (a book we picked up in Canberra - it's in the shops there cos he's a local lad - that I'd highly recommend reading), I came across a sentence that really resonated for me.<br />
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<em>"All the professional coaches out there have a few things in common: a work ethic and a passion for their sport like no other."</em> <br />
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A big chunk of the silver medal I won just over a week ago, was earned by my support crew and in particular my coach. She has an incredible work ethic and truck loads of passion for mountain biking. It's incredible to think back to the initial goal setting we did for 2013. How invested we both were on getting everything dialled. To make me able to ride as far as I possibly could in 24 hours. In the hope that, on that day, my best was better than anyone else's best.<br />
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Part of the preparation was learning as much as possible about 24 hour racing. A decent place for me to start to get a grip on what was involved (equipped with cuppa tea in hand) were the blogs of the current World Champions. Until race day in Canberra, I had never seen Jason English, but I'd heard a lot (and read a lot, fuelled by tea) about him. The guy is known as one of the best ultra-endurance athletes ever. Watching him fly by at various intervals in the race, I could see why. He never looked stretched! He just kept knocking out lap after lap, incredibly consistently and with enough poise to "check in" with fellow racers and chat about how their own races were going. Bad ass racer and all round nice guy.<br />
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Flick back to pre-race, I came across this on Jase's blog and took great inspiration from it. Particularly, after the mutual respect I had felt at the pointy end of some of the races leading up to the race on Aussie soil.<br />
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<em>"I was asked if I would be disappointed if I didn't win the National Champs for the 5th time in a row. I was convinced I wouldn't be as I had prepared well for the race. If someone was to beat me then they too must have worked hard and would be a deserving winner."</em><br />
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Epic battles create deserving winners. Canberra was my third epic battle of this season. In fact, I've almost had one for each season of the season! <br />
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Autumn was a ding dong affair with fellow World 24 Hour Solo Champs competitor, Erin Greene. Erin is a bad ass who never gives in. I'm more stubborn than most. The end result was a gruelling women's race taken to the 25th hour of racing, in which the leading two riders overall were both chicks. We were the only riders to go out for a sixteenth lap. And we both did it cos we knew the other one would.<br />
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Winter was exchanged temporarily for a Northern hemisphere summer. It was deliberately planned that way and sadly only lasted three weeks. Coach decided the way to improve my technical riding was to do some racing on technical terrain. Canada is the best place in the world for that so we made the trip to British Columbia Bike Race. Wendy Simms is a bad ass who never gives in (there's a pattern emerging). The end result was a gruelling women's stage race, where I raced every day like a single day XCO hit out in the fight for a stage win. That week ranks as my most favourite week of racing a bicycle in my life ever. I was pulling out my best riding. And a heap of Canadians loved it that I rocked it on a Hard Eddie.<br />
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Spring. The big daddy of race days, World 24 Hour Solo Champs. Probably the best value for money race you'll ever ride. As long as you finish. You guessed it...Jess Douglas is a bad ass who never gives in. There were several other bad ass chicks on the start line, including Erin. We'd anticipated Erin and Jess would be out the front at the start. I was pleased to be in their company. We were shredding the trails and on the opening lap caught a heap of the fellas on the descent. It was all going as I'd imagined. I guess that was the surreal bit. It was like something I'd imagined was unfolding in front of me.<br />
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Then something that I'd not imagined unfolded. Suddenly, on lap three, it felt hot. Really, really hot. I'd started to notice it on the climb and figured it would get better once we started descending again. It didn't. The last time I felt that weak on the bike was that sixteenth lap in Rotorua, racing against Erin. I looked down at my Garmin, "2:31:something". WTF? Another 21 and a half hours feeling like this? I was ready to bang out. Pizza and an early night seemed like a much more sensible option. I backed off the pace to survive. And inevitably got caught. Leading bunch to sixth in half a lap. My race was unravelling. This was definitely not what I had imagined.<br />
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In the pits I had a whinge. My crew told me I'd come right. Just keep going. We'll get you right. I kept going. It took 3 hours to come right, but it did happen. I still don't quite know how those guys kept me going. Or how I kept myself going. And I have never ever felt so glad to see the sunset while riding.<br />
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The best thing about 24 hour racing is that tomorrow's another day. You can have a rubbish day the first, then a flyer the next and it all counts. Before heading to Canberra, I'd spoken to Jenn O'Connor Patterson, bad ass kiwi chick who I'd raced against in the motherland. By "raced against" I actually mean I could still see her just after the gun had gone (but not much longer after that). I'd like to think I'd give her a bit better run for her money nowadays (at least for a few more minutes, particularly now she has retired). She was fast on the XCO circuit and struck me as one tough cookie, which I'd always attributed to her clocking up a heap of 24 hour victories and a silver medal at the 24 Hours of Adrenaline in Canmore before smashing the shorter stuff. Anyhow, I figured she'd know what she was talking about. <br />
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Back to the race report. I felt awesome. It got hot. I didn't feel awesome anymore. I suffered. The sun went down. Then, I spent all night in some state of mantra. Jenn had recommended repeating a couple of affirmations at the same point each lap. My mantra soon changed from something pre-determined that probably sounded nice while I was stretching in the sunshine during a taper week to, "I'm not leaving without a medal to match my f***ing shoes". I don't even know what made me think about it. I'd bought myself a new pair of Sidi Dragons to race in in Aussie mainly cos the last time I raced in my old ones, I lost a toenail. They were bronze and black. They looked awesome. And a medal to match my shoes meant a spot on the podium. That was the absolute least I would settle for. Apparently, sometime around 1am I came flying into the pit saying, "I'm not leaving without a medal to match my f***ing shoes" and only Lisa had a clue what I was on about.<br />
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Generally speaking, gaps are quick to open and slow to close in 24 hour racing. Unless something happens to the person in front of you, like a mechanical failure or bodily malfunction, your opposition can keep rolling along at a decent pace. Jenn had warned me about it and Erin had already taught me about it. It took me hours to close the gap to 5th place. Back to the mantra. More food. Add another mantra, "food is your fuel". I spent the night entrenched in the idea of fuelling my body to the best of my ability so I could close the gaps in the morning. By dawn I would feel strong, the air would still be cool, and I could smash it to the end. And I wasn't leaving without a medal to match my f***ing shoes.<br />
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A mate of mine, Iain, had asked me to ride the dawn lap for him. Apparently, it's his favourite time to be out on his bike. It's my favourite time to be in bed, so I figured some extra motivation would be perfect. It worked wonders. My nocturnal pastime of saying stuff about medals and shoes with an expletive or two coupled with awesome fuelling and riding a lap for a mate, resulted in my 4th fastest lap time of the race! It was the first sub hour lap anyone in the women's elite field had clocked for a very long time. I'd been on the bike for 18 hours. I started to feel awesome again.<br />
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The rest is kind of a blur. I stuck it in the big ring and kept it there for the last 99 kilometres of a 384 kilometre race. I concentrated on riding as hard as I could. I knew I was catching people. I also knew I was running out of time. I couldn't believe it, but I actually wanted more time on the clock! Catching Liz Smith in the closing stages of the race got me to a medal position to match my shoes. Eliza Kwan wasn't far ahead. I caught her too. Jess held me off admirably. I reckon, common to all sports, is the fact that champions are those who are able to demonstrate resilience when under pressure. Jess she sure did that. <br />
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So, we went to win and didn't. But we came close. I can't say I'm disappointed. Like Jase said on his blog, I'd worked hard and was beaten by a deserving winner who had also worked hard. The way I rode that last six hours of racing isn't something I'll forget in a hurry. I guess the real silver lining from all three epic battles this season wasn't in the colour of the medal, but in discovering a whole heap of tenacity. I'm pretty sure it's here to stay.<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12045003078431271229noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4335164352483536987.post-15864421786704431092013-10-10T13:17:00.000-07:002013-10-10T13:17:00.689-07:00Week 0: Le MansDaily routines. We all have one. Alarm clock. Shower (speedily). Eat. Drink tea. Rush to work. Squeeze in training. Drink coffee. Eat some more. Sometimes more work. Drink wine. Sleep. Repeat.<br />
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In hindsight, my daily routine has been somewhat time compressed for the last 12 weeks. Mainly due to the usual workload that winter's seasonal offerings brings coupled with long training rides for some race I'm doing this weekend, which involves a fairly long time in the saddle. I've been impressed with the ninja level of self discipline and determination I have developed to make it all fit (even be it snugly) into a 24-hour period. Not least due to the interesting celebration of Mother Nature's elements that is associated with doing it all in winter in Wellington.<br />
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Tapering is my new favorite thing. If only you didn't have to do the big block of training beforehand for it to have the desired effect. It's provided an opportunity to mix up the daily routine. Ditch the alarm clock. Shower (leisurely). Eat. Drink tea. Stretch. Enjoy training sessions in the sunshine. Eat some more. Drink wine. Sleep. You get the idea. It's what I imagine being a full time cyclist is like. I'm sure it's not actually at all representative but it's a nice idea.<br />
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Tomorrow, my daily routine will be in for another remix. After the predictable wake-shower-eat-drink tea sequence of events, I'll run to my bike and not get off it until sometime around midday on Sunday.<br />
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I'm not sure who came up with the idea of 24-hour mountain bike racing. I'm pretty sure it was born in the USA. But, I do have a vivid memory of Patrick Adams (the mastermind behind the UK's ever popular Mountain Mayhem and, at the time, my team manager) excitedly describing this race format he'd heard about in some far off land. I was sixteen years old. I sat wide-eyed and horrified that anyone would suggest riding for that length of time. In a team. Some time later, I found myself participating in a my first Mountain Mayhem as part of a military team. Some more time later, here we are on the eve of the World 24 Hour Solo Championships.<br />
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Whoever the brainchild was, they drew significant inspiration from the 24 Hours of Le Mans. In fact, most 24-hour mountain bike events kick off with a "Le Mans start". Some lesser known other parallels are also quite striking.<br />
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Commonly known as the Grand Prix of Endurance and Efficiency, Le Mans race teams
have to balance speed against the cars' ability to run for 24 hours
without sustaining mechanical damage to the car and manage the cars'
consumables, primarily fuel. Replace "car"" with "rider"and that's not unlike the job we (Ricky, Lisa, Emily and I) have in store this weekend. Having lost a toenail at the first 24 hour event I raced back in April, I would like to add "not losing another toenail" to the list of things to avoid sustaining mechanical damage to. I'm sure Ricky has a much longer list of things he hopes I don't do to my bicycle.<br />
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Apparently, nowadays it is
mandated that three drivers share each competing vehicle at Le Mans. Three riders each sharing the same bike sounds like a bloody good idea to me. As long as it's not at the same time. I'm sure I will reflect on that some more at some time around 2am on Sunday. <br />
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Le Mans is held near the height of the European summer in June, leading
at times to very hot weather conditions for the drivers, particularly
in closed roof vehicles. Not dissimilar to Aussie in October. Phew for ventilated helmets! No closed roof for me this weekend. Although that option would have been nice in Rotorua.<br />
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The car race begins in mid-afternoon, racing through the night and
following morning before finishing at the same time the race started,
the following day.<sup class="reference" id="cite_ref-3"><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/24_Hours_of_Le_Mans#cite_note-3"><span></span><span></span></a></sup> Another tick. We kick off at midday on Saturday (2pm Auckland time and 2am London time, for those who wanna know). And, while Le Mans is a distance over six times longer than the Indianapolis 500 or 18 times longer than a Formula 1 Grand Prix, this weekend's efforts will be over eight times longer than Karapoti or 16 standard cross-country events.<br />
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Finally, back to where this roundabout comparison of mountain biking with car racing started, the race start. The Le Mans traditional starting format involved cars lined up in echelon along the length of the pits. Up
to and including 1962, cars were lined up in order of engine capacity. The starting
drivers stood on the opposite side of the front stretch. When the French
flag dropped to signify the start, the drivers ran across the track,
entered and started their cars without assistance, and drove away. By 1963, people were worried someone was gonna get squished so they stopped those shenanigans. You guessed it. On Saturday, our bikes will be lined up (in rider pecking order aka engine capacity) and I will gallop to my steed then ride away. Although, the only Tricolour involved will be the one being rocked by fellow elite chick, Mimi Guillot.<br />
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Back to the daily routine stuff. My usual one involves talking to people. Lots. The topic of sporting endeavors naturally crops up from time to time. Most people's response to a quick description of a 24 hour mountain bike race is, "Why the hell would you do that to yourself?". That's a totally understandable reaction that I am yet to find a concise answer to. But, I did have to smile recently when a patient replied, "Wow. I wish I loved my sport enough to do it for 24 hours". Amen, to that. A 24-hour celebration of an awesome sport.<br />
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So, Judgement Day is nearly here. Thanks to everyone who helped me get here and those who will help me through the next step. I imagine there is only one thing harder than racing a 24 hour event, that's crewing for one. Just like motorsport, it's a team effort.<br />
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There's a live results tracking service on the race website (at the bottom of the page<a href="http://www.wembo.com.au/australia/about/rider-info-pack" target="_blank"> here</a> or a direct link <a href="http://www.durt.com.au/" target="_blank">here</a>) if you fancy checking in at various times while enjoying a cup of tea to see what we're up to.<br />
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Over and out!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12045003078431271229noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4335164352483536987.post-58047922894773134942013-09-29T23:41:00.000-07:002013-09-30T15:46:14.543-07:00Week 1: Pit CrewThis blog update is brought to you in a prompt manner this week for two reasons. The first is that the latter part of the week will invariably be taken up with packing. I've never carted enough stuff to race for 24 hours overseas before. BC Bike Race was all wrapped up in 20 hours over seven days. Different racing but still puts it into perspective. I'm sure I'll be the source of much interest from onlookers at the airport. Small woman with large baggage. My favourite answer to the inevitable, "What's in that bag?" question that travelling with a bike bag seems to encourage is, "Shoes". The second reason, is that I have less training on the horizon for the next fortnight. Finally, all the hardwork is done. For this chapter of the book anyway. It's a nice feeling. And gives me time to schedule a performance enhancing haircut. Nothing too radical or ultra weight saving.<br />
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Racing in Canberra is gonna be a whole heap of fun. Not least because of the sunshine (there had better be sunshine, Australia) but also the fabulous people I'll get to share the experience with.<br />
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<em><span style="font-size: x-small;">Nelson sunshine - more of this in Aussie please!</span></em></div>
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Twenty-four hour racing is definitely not a one man band affair. Everyone needs a pit crew. I'm stoked to have these guys on mine!<br />
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<strong>Lisa "Cowbell Coach" Morgan</strong></div>
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<em>Strength: Making people ride their bikes faster than they thought they could.</em></div>
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<em>Weakness: Chocolate and red wine. More of an addiction than a weakness.</em></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><em>Cowbell Coach riding Hammerhead in the 2008 World Cup</em></span></div>
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The mastermind behind all things performance and data analysis related. This will be her second time round crewing at a 24 Hour race in Canberra and this time she's coached three riders for the event. She's even experienced her own time in the hurt box at Stromlo racing in the 2008 World Cup to a top 20 finish. Best known for racing cyclocross in cowprint gumboots. The girl that got me back on an elite startline, at the pointy end of races and increased my red wine and chocolate consumption exponentially. She brings order out of chaos. And Monkey Lights to the team.</div>
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<strong>Ricky "Slackboy" Pincott</strong></div>
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<em>Strength: Degree in Bodgability. Ain't nothing he can't fix.</em></div>
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<em>Weakness: Pies and beer. More of a basic necessity than a weakness.</em><br />
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<em><span style="font-size: x-small;">Slackboy at Mount Vic</span></em></div>
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Maestro of the spanner (and other bicycle tools). Best known for building awesome trails and riding all sorts of bicycles including a fixie at cross races. He rode Karapoti in high heels once too. The genius behind my custom built race bike last year and the man who fixed my middle finger braking habit and made me more rad on my bike (mainly by means of optimised bike set-up coupled with merciless banter). He brings manliness to the team.</div>
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<strong>Emily "Powergirl" Miazga</strong></div>
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<em>Strength: Mastery of cookie creation.</em></div>
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<em>Weakness: None. Powergirl has no weaknesses, silly billy.</em><br />
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<em><span style="font-size: x-small;">Powergirl smokin' it at Coast to Coast</span></em></div>
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<em><span style="font-size: x-small;">Photo credit: Sportzhub</span></em></div>
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Last minute addition to the team is the kiwi based Canadian adventure racer. She's famous for being the Em bit of Em's Power Cookies and best known for yellow bikini antics at the Tour de France. With three Speight's Coast to Coast <span class="ecxxml-text">World Multisport Championships</span> victories to her name, she knows what it takes to get through a long day at the office. She brings endless enthusiasm, delicious cookies and adds another funny accent to the team.</div>
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<strong>Big Ups</strong></div>
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Huge thanks to all my sponsors and various people who have spurred me on. I feel privileged to have such amazing support. Many of you provide inspiration without even realising it, like Karapoti race organiser, Michael Jacques, who told me in 2011 that my race entry for the following year's event had better be for the elite category otherwise he wouldn't accept it. Getting back in the saddle has been a lot of fun.</div>
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<em><span style="font-size: x-small;">Forget diamonds, ENVE wheels are a girl's best friend!</span></em></div>
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<em><span style="font-size: x-small;">Mr Slackboy arrived with rad bike bling before the 2013 season kicked off</span></em></div>
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So, the next blog will be posted when I'm on the other side of the Tasman. There's even a live timing update thingy running during the event so I'll chuck links to all that sort of good stuff up. Good luck to all the kiwis competing... Megan Dimozantos, Erin Greene, Jude Young, Charlotte Ireland, Tim Collinson, Tim Farmer, Matt Andrew, Matt Lees, Thomas Lindup, Angus Petrie and Ryan Hunt (sorry if I missed anyone!). See you all there.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12045003078431271229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4335164352483536987.post-48011868312030918332013-09-27T03:50:00.000-07:002013-09-27T03:57:02.261-07:00Week 2: Commandments<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Spring is in the air. Rain is in the air too. The last three
weeks have been reminiscent of springtime training in the motherland. It’s a
good job I don’t shrink in the wash.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio9vcAGycQ7-LbYamsY5npmh2DbXeqmEyU0bZCCR_p0HJXr4ewZkWr8SaC6OMTYMpYwVm4PfQUSyX3JnDYX3ZIT9kfzRHx80KewhS7h792kuTlmrK3J__KvaFtRzPSjHD_0sGcde9XMXM/s1600/spring.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="221" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio9vcAGycQ7-LbYamsY5npmh2DbXeqmEyU0bZCCR_p0HJXr4ewZkWr8SaC6OMTYMpYwVm4PfQUSyX3JnDYX3ZIT9kfzRHx80KewhS7h792kuTlmrK3J__KvaFtRzPSjHD_0sGcde9XMXM/s320/spring.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">This week, the <a href="http://beta.active.com/cycling/Articles/The-10-Commandments-of-Training" target="_blank">ten commandments of training</a> randomly cropped
up over coffee. Not heard of them? Me neither. Cafes provide many moments of
clarity, not only that the combination of pumpkin, walnut and maple syrup in a
muffin is seriously delicious. A quick rundown provided a great deal of insight,
even if there was some uncertainty about whether the first commandment was “train
moderately” or “train modestly”.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Train modestly probably should be added to the list. Heaven
forbid flaunting inappropriately short shorts. Bibshorts are the answer to hide
those Dagenham cleavages too, fellas. Never mind the transparent properties of
white lycra when damp. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thankfully, all
lessons that I have not learned the hard way.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Life experience has
taught me that I have a natural propensity to learn most things the hard way. That
extends to how to get the most out of your training. Under my own guidance, I
spent heaps of time training erratically. Mainly involving doing lots of what I
love doing most - going uphill.* It gets you to a certain place (mainly hill
roads), but not much further.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The last two years have been a bit different. Being coached
invariably meant that a training plan to follow popped up in my inbox at regular
intervals. With goals and stuff. And planned sessions that sometimes involved
staying on the flat. Even sometimes doing sprints, reps, intervals and a
variety of other uncomfortable experiences that can be had on a bicycle without
even going anywhere near a climb. Weird. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfNc3qG3_1wC1F0pw_Ek9cMvzNPYj0ZqcqDMYi8atuh-3aFeyAc4X8fQUHWwsA-iah-K1Mu8GOHYDEfRt60TMMHBTb2ysA5M-nwWlvf8Jz0rr2eG2TDDrfaH2xs6gcj_D4tNoAkkHFncY/s1600/Kahutara+40km+TT+3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfNc3qG3_1wC1F0pw_Ek9cMvzNPYj0ZqcqDMYi8atuh-3aFeyAc4X8fQUHWwsA-iah-K1Mu8GOHYDEfRt60TMMHBTb2ysA5M-nwWlvf8Jz0rr2eG2TDDrfaH2xs6gcj_D4tNoAkkHFncY/s320/Kahutara+40km+TT+3.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">At this point, I must confess that my ability to learn
things the hard way is only outstripped by my determination to unwaveringly stick
to a game plan. Aka stubbornness. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This
came in handy when I thought my coach had lost the plot getting me to do sprints.
Or ride on the flat. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I imagine it’s also
going to come in handy in a couple of weeks when I challenge myself to racing
round and round for 24 hours.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Reviewing the commandments made me realise that I have
learned a lot and I’m now sticking to most of them without even knowing it. But
I’m still a bit rubbish at the “<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;">realize
that all plans can be changed - yours will not be chiseled into stone” bit. I’d
say my plans are more etched in semi-permanent marker nowadays. It's all a learning curve and long races are
good at teaching you some lessons in adaptability.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">All that said, this
week my own basic instinct got an opportunity to flourish. I got to tick off a
ride I’ve fancied doing for ages. After all, it was in my training programme. Rimutakas,
Akatawaras, Paekakariki, Haywards, Blue Mountains, Wallaceville and Moonshine.
For the non-Wellingtonians, that’s a heap of awesome hill roads. All in one
ride. With rain cos it’s springtime. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><em>*I know that’s slightly strange. I can’t explain it to you.
It’s just the way it is.</em></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12045003078431271229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4335164352483536987.post-449905673186602912013-09-22T02:09:00.000-07:002013-09-22T02:11:40.184-07:00Week 3: Smiles & ChocolateRiding bikes makes you smile. Sometimes, you riding bikes makes other people smile. My cool little niece is testament to that. This is my favourite pic of the week. Rad balance bike skills by Olivia aged 3.<br />
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Sometimes, you get to tell others stories about riding bikes which makes them smile. Just like my second outing of the year as a guest speaker, which I survived on Monday. Although a little more wiggle room on the day would have been nice, aiming to join the exclusive Sub 3 Hour Karapoti Club in 2012 and clocking 2:59:59 makes for a cool story. Thanks to the Rimutaka Lions for being such a welcoming audience.<br />
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Ride bikes. Share stories. Smile.<br />
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Short and sweet. Mainly because I have chocolate to eat. Sometimes, riding bikes lets you eat more chocolate too. :)Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12045003078431271229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4335164352483536987.post-21843287758390512242013-09-15T02:30:00.000-07:002013-09-15T02:30:02.419-07:00Week 4: Fine TuningAfter a week of stormy weather, I couldn't believe our luck for the tune up Cowbell Coach had planned this weekend. She masterminded a 13 kilometre route that replicated the Worlds course profile nicely, provided some of the rocky terrain we can expect Mt Stromlo to throw at us, and even arranged for Aussie sunshine to grace Karori all day long.<br /><br />It wasn't just me benefiting from Lisa's enthusiasm this weekend. Cantabrian Angus Petrie popped up from down south, student Ryan Hunt rolled down from his digs, and singlespeeder Charlotte Ireland hopped across from Eastbourne. I really don't know how Charlotte does it on one gear. But she does, admirably. Between us we cranked out 28 laps, 364 kilometres and 12,250 metres of climbing. Charlotte's partner in crime, Tim Collinson joined us later in the day as well as Christchurch's hostess with the mostest, Michelle Peterson, who was visiting the capital city for the Trailfund NZ Conference. Both made their contribution to the "all in a day's work" kilometre count.<br />
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Frequent visits to the summit reminded me how lucky I am to live in Wellington. <a href="http://www.makarapeak.org/" target="_blank">Makara Peak</a> is a really great mountain biking location.* The views are spectacular and the trails are super sweet. I also had an hourly reminder of how lucky I am to have such awesome support. The week after a weekend spent crewing for a 12 hour race, Lisa gave up her opportunity to chill out on Saturday to provide us with a pit zone. Kat Sullivan rocked down from the Hutt to give her a much appreciated helping hand. Various friends who were out enjoying riding their bikes while soaking up the rays gave us big ups. Gus, Ryan and I all felt the love. It's not difficult to stay motivated to keep pedalling in those circumstances!</div>
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A wicked day on the bike was rounded off with an hors d'ouvre of some amazing smoked salmon (thanks Gus!). But before tucking in, on the way home we called in to watch the end of the evening's team cyclocross race that was being run as part Upper Hutt's Cycling Festival. I declined the offer to smash out a lap. It would have ended in tears (my own). We bumped into Alex "De Snor" Revell who was wearing a glorious white jersey adorned with a fern. Seeing him rocking a National Champion's jersey was the perfect end to the day. Talk about bringing a smile to a girl's face.<br />
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<em><span style="font-size: x-small;">Fantastic mugshot from Winter 2012 by Craig Madsen</span></em></div>
<br />For me, racing is increasingly becoming not just about enjoying the events you compete in but the journey before and afterwards, which includes the journeys of others. <br /><br /><em>*Huge thanks to Makara Peak Supporters for letting us use the park all day long!</em>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12045003078431271229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4335164352483536987.post-88691741908830224412013-09-08T04:21:00.000-07:002013-09-09T02:23:30.194-07:00Week 5: Twelfth HourThis should probably be renamed eleventh hour. Talk about getting the blog post in late. I'm determined in my quest to post something every week pre World 24 Hour Champs, so here we go. <br />
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An easier training week didn't seem to equate to more time to relax and find my inner zen (yes, I am getting my excuses in early). At least I can't complain about being bored. This weekend I ticked off my fifth twelve hour solo. Funny to think that the first time I completed one of these events, I asked the first person I saw when I crossed the line to never let me do that to myself again.* Yet, here I am blogging about racing another one. <br />
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It's amazing to see how the physiological stresses placed on a body allows it to become more finely honed at adapting to future similar stresses. It took me a long time to eat much of anything and an even longer time to get back on the bike after the Torq In Your Sleep event in 2009. Fast forward to yesterday's effort and demolishing cheesecake, hamburger and fries, bacon and eggs, hot chocolate, normal chocolate, chocolate chip cookies, Mexican stack, chicken biryani and a naan bread in less than 24 hours has been done with such ease that I also had time to do the ironing for the week and drink coffee. While my nutrition sponsor may be horrified by the news (did I mention my pre race pizza?) she was heartened by the beetroot, quinoa and almond salad I had for my lunch on Friday. I'm pretty sure those power foods and a diet coke cancel the rest out.<br />
<br />
Before this turns into the Food Channel, I'd better cobble together a race report of some fashion.<br />
<br />
This year's Day Night Thriller was held on a somewhat condensed course allowing everyone to get cosy on the 4.2 kilometre circuit. I tried my best to be an awesome role model and offer inspirational commentary to fellow racers along with the pleasantries of "Pardon me kind sir, but would you be so gentlemanly as to let a lady pass at the next most convenient opportunity?" in an appropriately polite British accent, but after sixty minutes or so was reduced to grunts of "On your right, fella".<br />
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The deceptively flat course provided 4,100m of climbing over the twelve hour proceedings including a nasty short sharp pinch which my quads liked more than my hamstrings. Accordingly, I resorted to out of the saddle grunting (yes, more grunting...this is a twelve hour race, grunting is mandatory) for the last eight hours. The pit area was conveniently placed close to the sharp pinch so onlookers could share the experience.<br />
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There were several peeps there giving it a nudge before popping over the Tasman for the World 24 Hour Championships, including a very cool and very speedy man from Dunedin called Matt Lees. Not only did Matt make the whole thing look pretty easy, he even had time to chat with me for half a lap sometime after 8pm about how our races had gone. While we were still racing. On his way to clocking up 60 laps.<br />
<br />
Mine had gone well. I only stopped moving forward from start to finish for two reasons. The first was a large guy riding into me sideways. The second was when I rode over a course marker peg. The guy behind me saw both incidents, which happened within ten minutes of each other, and commented on my temporary lack of good luck. Quite on the contrary, somehow I managed to ride over a pig tail course marker peg, which had had the tape long since ripped out of it, with such finesse that it spearheaded the lower part of the rear mech cage and was relatively easily removed (once I worked it out and stopped thinking, "Oh cr*p, this is not good") without any damage to any moving parts. Talk about lucky. Luckier would have been seeing the damn thing before riding over it. And the large guy avoiding me. But such is racing. Everything else was done on the fly while riding so I could spend more time riding, while keeping the fuel tank topped up so I could keep riding more. I think I'm starting to get the hang of this endurance racing game. Job done.<br />
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Young whippersnapper, Ryan Hunt, also gave a great demonstration of getting the job done. Despite a heavy collision at the end of lap one (so, in the first twelve minutes of racing), he rode on to finish second in the Open Mens. The resulting wardrobe malfunction inspired him to bring his own take on Moonride at Day Night Thriller, with plenty of on course feedback about the hole in his shorts as he passed riders. He waited until after the race had finished to consult a medical practitioner about the severity of his somewhat swollen right hand. Unfortunately, she was engrossed in cheesecake eating.<br />
<br />
As well as Ryan, there were many other impressive efforts from team and solo riders. Too many to mention here. But big ups to everyone who took part. <br />
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Time to grab forty winks.<br />
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<em>*I do realise that I left that bit out from last week's inspirational piece.</em>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12045003078431271229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4335164352483536987.post-6309914884653809832013-08-29T01:47:00.000-07:002013-08-29T02:08:14.874-07:00Week 6: Six Reasons Why Everyone Should Do a Twelve Hour Solo RaceInspired by the rapidly approaching Taupo <a href="http://www.eventpromotions.co.nz/Mountain_Biking/Taupo_Day_Night_Thriller.htm" target="_blank"><span style="color: blue;">Day Night Thriller</span></a> and the realisation that in eight
days time I'll chalk up my fifth twelve hour solo race, Week 6 is an ode to why
everyone should go do one.<br />
<br />
OK. I'll fess up. Twelve hours of mountain bike racing is not for
everyone. If you're staunchly in the, "No way, you can't make me do
it" camp then stay put. I'm not about to turn into some sort of dirt
endurance evangelist overnight. But, if you're sitting on the fence and are a
little bit tempted by the idea but need a few good reasons to nudge you onto
the startline, read on.<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>#1 Achievability</b><br />
<br />
Let's face it, doing twelve hours of any one thing continuously is a
challenge. Even sleep (although I intend to tackle that test head on this
Friday night with no alarm set for an early morning training ride on Saturday for
the first time in a few weeks, whoop). But, like twelve hours of sleeping, twelve
hours of cycling is within your grasp. You've just got to want to do it enough.
You don't even need heaps of uber rides under your belt, but doing a couple
will make your body a little more accepting of what you are asking of it and
the overall experience a little less uncomfortable. The longest ride I had done before
my first 12 hour race was two hours, which I’ll admit made the remaining ten
hours of racing a little bit ouchy, but I still made it through to tell the
tale. The sweet taste of success over long races like these is
all down to pacing, nutrition, and headspace. Get ready for the long
haul and you'll be right.<br />
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<b>#2 Bragging Rights</b><br />
<br />
There aren’t many things more entertaining in the workplace on a Monday
morning than the perplexed look your colleagues will give you when they ask
what you got up to on the weekend and you reply casually, “Raced my bike for
twelve hours”. Try not to look too broken physically for maximum impact. Your
reply will invariably be punctuated by chomping mouthfuls of food and destroying
the entire cookie stash in the staff tearoom along with anything else that
looks vaguely edible. Be prepared for questions pertaining to the deeper
meaning of such an unusual weekend pastime. I’m yet to come up with a thought
provoking response to, “Why, the hell would you do that?”<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>#3 Dialling the Perfect Line</b><br />
<br />
Ever done a race and kicked yourself for screwing up a line? Or felt
frustrated by a bad lap? Fear not. In a twelve hour solo race you’ll have many,
many, many laps to enjoy. These will invariably provide endless opportunities
to test a variety of lines, some less intentionally than others. By twilight, you’ll
have them all dialled and will achieve suave and poise as you drill the perfect
line despite the fading light (this may or may not actually happen in real life).
The occasional bad lap will provide but a brief interlude and give you
something different to think about before rediscovering your mojo and getting
back in the groove (hopefully). <br />
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<b>#4 No Gear</b><br />
<br />
Well, you will need some gear. Like a bicycle you love enough to want to ride
it for twelve hours non-stop. And some lights for when the sun goes down. But,
unlike endurance point-to-point courses or massive grand loops of hinterland,
mountain passes, and other forms of beautiful character building terrain, a
twelve hour solo race is run on a multi-lap format. Never straying too far from
home means you only need to carry enough Scooby snacks for thirty to sixty
minutes at a time before being reunited with endless fresh supplies. No Sherpa duties
required.<br />
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<b>#5 Mates</b><br />
<br />
Solo. You’d be forgiven for thinking that sounds a bit lonely. But these events
have a cool vibe and you’ll no doubt be surrounded by a bunch of other racers
and team riders giving you big ups and encouragement. Not to mention your mates
in the race village who will offer endless heckling and banter lap after lap
after lap. Even if you’d prefer they didn’t. And you never know when you might
end up riding with another solo racer for several hours. Solo, yes. On your
own, no.<br />
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<b>#6 Cheesecake</b><br />
<br />
One of the best pieces of cheesecake I ever ate was after last year’s Day
Night Thriller. It was washed down with a glass of bubbly and promptly followed
by a power nap. All before prize-giving. This year, the gorgeous Megan Ward has
promised to provide a homemade delectable dessert. Racing a twelve hour solo
gives you ownership rights over a whole heap of pudding choices. Choice is
probably the wrong word because you’ll be able to eat them all at once. <br />
<br />
<br />
Hopefully, the promise of bragging rights, dialling the perfect line and
cheesecake will do the trick. See you there.<br />
<br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">If you're looking for a South Island
event to cut your teeth on check out the <a href="http://www.bluedogevents.co.nz/default.asp?PageID=22843" target="_blank"><span style="color: blue;">Giant
Day Nighter</span></a> in MacLean's Forest in October or Timaru's <a href="http://www.timaru12hourmtb.co.nz/Race-Information" target="_blank"><span style="color: blue;">Alpine
Energy 12 Hour</span></a> in November.</i>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12045003078431271229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4335164352483536987.post-31052670506070038392013-08-25T01:44:00.000-07:002013-08-25T01:49:11.646-07:00Week 7: Dream TeamDown to the line. In the final hours before the clock ticks over to Week 6, I finally managed to sit down and get my blog on. It's been a busy time lately. More hours on the bike have led to a feeling of connectedness that I haven't reached before. And I don't mean only the contact points. Cranking out some big rides has provided blood, sweat and tears but most importantly heaps of good vibes. Even the more-regular-than-usual bike cleaning activity has been therapeutic, in some sort of Mr Miyagi inspired "dirt on, dirt off" way.<br />
<br />
The last ten days have also provided plenty of opportunities for me to realise how many cool people there are out there providing encouragement and support along the way. Some experiences since my last post have been a little surreal to say the least. <br />
<br />
Like having an Olympian arrive to save a damsel in distress (aka me) on a particularly stormy day on the South Coast, chuck a new wheel on the bike, then wish me luck as I finished off my training ride commenting that I was "keen" on a day like that. I owe you Robyn - it would have been a really long ride home on the rim and I suspect the wheel would have liked it even less than me. <br />
<br />
Like horn toots and yelling from car windows while out riding representing encouragement rather than "get off the road". Thanks to all yous out there. Clearly, more time "on the road" provides more of those random opportunities for our paths to cross.<br />
<br />
Like having a newly crowned National Champion share his excitement with his result and suggesting "rocking their socks off" in Canberra would be the most appropriate course of action. Go hard overseas in that fern adorned skinsuit, Alex! I will endeavour to rock socks off in almost only six weeks.<br />
<br />
Like sharing some epic dirt rides with kiwi Marathon Worlds representative and enjoying the simple pleasures of pedalling, chatting about Life, the Universe and Everything, and making each other hurt just a little bit now and again on some uphilly bits. The answer, Justin, is not 42 but 29. Twenty-niner big boy wheels. Go on, you know you want to.<br />
<br />
The list could go on and on. But it's nearly bedtime.<br />
<br />
When my head hits the pillow tonight, ready for some zzzz's ahead of a well deserved easy week, I'll be content in the knowledge that I'm super lucky to have the best support crew out there. Some (that's me) would call them the Dream Team. Today, Justin asked that I leave them to him in my will. I'll need to consider that matter carefully - unless, on one of our rides I may meet a Shakespearean sticky end. Slackboy and Cowbell Coach always have my back. It's cool that there appears to be a whole bunch of others that can be added to the supporters list. Amen, to that. Night, night.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12045003078431271229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4335164352483536987.post-77793242055687435372013-08-14T02:05:00.000-07:002013-08-14T02:56:49.952-07:00Week 8: Freedom MachineCycling is full of controversial moments. Operación Puerto. Tragic Tom Simpson. The Festina Affair. The Armwarmers Incident.<br />
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This week, in an attempt to fend off any future controversial misdemeanours, I decided to revisit the Rules (for the uninitiated, click <a href="http://www.velominati.com/the-rules/">here</a>). Rule 5 is quoted regularly but my favourite is #72. Legs speak louder than words. However, this being a blog (and having peaked to soon and already featured a picture of Ms Spitz's guns last week), I'd better come up with some words.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja_BH_jhR2uWlHJ4sa0FZeneXQDSO2zLQt48o-VdMNbcZuNENv3ml0hQJujnUJuWHvdCJ-436LI0TugT23pWCrgPZcBYvwfooddyCTJK8da7Q7gH6z9Vi2G5OY22idDOaZshDHX3Ul5iQ/s1600/kimh04.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja_BH_jhR2uWlHJ4sa0FZeneXQDSO2zLQt48o-VdMNbcZuNENv3ml0hQJujnUJuWHvdCJ-436LI0TugT23pWCrgPZcBYvwfooddyCTJK8da7Q7gH6z9Vi2G5OY22idDOaZshDHX3Ul5iQ/s320/kimh04.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
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<em><span style="font-size: x-small;">Yey! Check me out. No baggy armwarmers!</span></em></div>
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While perusing the Rules, I came across one of the <a href="http://www.velominati.com/technique/into-the-tunnel/">best short articles</a> I have read for ages. It will become my reference point for those moments when I get asked, "but why do you do it?" forever more. Handy and timely because those questions seem to crop up a little more often with a 24 hour race approaching.<br />
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Boots were made for walking. Bikes were made for travelling. The human-powered, pedal-driven, singletrack vehicle known as the bicycle or bicyclette (depending on your side of the Channel) was first introduced in Europe in the 19th century. Being awesome, it had a huge effect on society. Even before Strava. One off-spin in those bygone olden days times, was the unprecedented mobility it gave women. The humble velo became recognized by rad chicks as a freedom machine forever after. Wikipedia says so.</div>
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The freedom machine. Go sister! I can relate to that.</div>
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<em><span style="font-size: x-small;">"Let go, but stand by"</span></em></div>
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<em><span style="font-size: x-small;">Rad chicks learning to shred</span></em></div>
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Once upon a time, almost twenty years ago, a naive sixteen year old pedalwan learner wanted to know if it was possible for her to crank out 160 kilometres on her own. It was back in the motherland so the aim of a century of glorious imperial miles seemed like a good number. The young pedalwan learned lots that day. Most importantly, that it is possible. Solo with two Mars bars and a sandwich stuffed in jersey pockets. And a fifty pence piece for company in case you need to call your Mum because something has gone wrong. She also learned that you will inevitably ride through three seasons in one day (just no summer) and that calculating the distance of your route pre-ride by counting up the little distance numbers on a roadmap is not the most reliable method (and means you will cycle an extra twenty or so kilometres to get back home).</div>
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Last weekend, I realised not much has changed. While my jersey pocket food source has moved to a much more sensible <a href="http://www.powercookies.com/">training snack</a> option, and my fifty pence coin has been upgraded to some sort of fandangled android device that requires more than a medical degree to operate (trust me, I'm a doctor), many familiarities endure. </div>
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My long tempo sejour of the Wairarapa granted me the experience of riding through three seasons in one day (you guessed it, just no summer) and confirmed that Wairarapa country roads are as effective at creating Flemish tan lines (artifical tan lines caused by mud, grit and cowshit) as their Welsh counterparts.</div>
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More importantly, the same feeling was there. The answer to why I enjoy riding my bike for a long time and up big hills today is much the same as it was then. The sense of travelling. The sheer feeling of freedom and state of bliss. Going into the tunnel. And the best bit about ultra-endurance racing is that I get to do even more of it. </div>
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Rule 9 needs an addendum. This is a rider who loves the work. And the feeling it gives them.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12045003078431271229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4335164352483536987.post-10089779704603746142013-08-08T23:37:00.002-07:002013-08-08T23:43:46.112-07:00Week 9: Egocentric<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<em>"You've got no ego. And you need one!"</em></div>
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Not really the sort of thing that you hear every day of the week. But it was the recurring theme of week nine. I'm not sure that I'll ever quite fill those shoes but in an attempt to achieve what has been recommended, I have filed a request with Visa to sponsor financing one of these bad boys to get to the startline for Karapoti 2014. With a gold stripe rather than a blue one. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0ZfDmStk_DeTvU4kXb-ur8tyTqKR8TuMF9Lhn8MyDvohyphenhyphenKGiiE4oyjoyN5oy3kEWLi_GWJze_ZKh6pGoRTDOe3-oHOGp0aaooRs-AFlRLAP0sCf0Hk9g2lMj3lPLvpWYsi1BZ9bvZiOY/s1600/bus.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0ZfDmStk_DeTvU4kXb-ur8tyTqKR8TuMF9Lhn8MyDvohyphenhyphenKGiiE4oyjoyN5oy3kEWLi_GWJze_ZKh6pGoRTDOe3-oHOGp0aaooRs-AFlRLAP0sCf0Hk9g2lMj3lPLvpWYsi1BZ9bvZiOY/s320/bus.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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After all, it's important to have matching kit.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjme49i0hqMVzWb_jM6QIDwGCUKIXv5jZCU-CqVVpdzb9SnShiv-r2dPFCc-eiU61RMfSpPUSvLSLoA53icfEXDMf5cGlE7jdLZD5sUFzETQ7QlHO8cgPFKdJRtpMDwg76vQOVJisU4P74/s1600/coppermine+boulder+valley.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjme49i0hqMVzWb_jM6QIDwGCUKIXv5jZCU-CqVVpdzb9SnShiv-r2dPFCc-eiU61RMfSpPUSvLSLoA53icfEXDMf5cGlE7jdLZD5sUFzETQ7QlHO8cgPFKdJRtpMDwg76vQOVJisU4P74/s320/coppermine+boulder+valley.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
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I've also been practising holding my bike as well. It's seems poise and pout are important factors too.<br />
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<em>A little less like this...</em><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQhtQB1hTHtAwnZ_gp8h8FRDER3_q6FN9jGa7IbBtRYYQuaCh_NdDXfqIQeb8ByJ95fEpWG2DBBTxG7-2ugxd26qwBzcns_uDSrvvTekSNA2jxptG6ovEXLZuLRFpidSfQuyQPGWToyfE/s1600/cx.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQhtQB1hTHtAwnZ_gp8h8FRDER3_q6FN9jGa7IbBtRYYQuaCh_NdDXfqIQeb8ByJ95fEpWG2DBBTxG7-2ugxd26qwBzcns_uDSrvvTekSNA2jxptG6ovEXLZuLRFpidSfQuyQPGWToyfE/s320/cx.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<em>...and a little more like this (but this isn't me)...</em><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3xa4JMemkrsjP8omRxcU_9WWds1_riPWicrQXkPPM-B7qoa06cSTgcqlknYPNH6zEIrZu6kdgMXTKrVF-XOI545OEEsQTnURS8r99HUzC5XH6j6xC8DP9gLblXe6Br5lNEmiMi3wBj3A/s1600/pose.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3xa4JMemkrsjP8omRxcU_9WWds1_riPWicrQXkPPM-B7qoa06cSTgcqlknYPNH6zEIrZu6kdgMXTKrVF-XOI545OEEsQTnURS8r99HUzC5XH6j6xC8DP9gLblXe6Br5lNEmiMi3wBj3A/s320/pose.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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As well as tensing my quads for those special podium moments (this isn't me either),<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAwq8HP0DL-pjPYN5fQE65NXq2SWjz_I3dCKMvYVE7x6BMP4ItgSh0oI19IHhpkixxkrn2xfwFmHhAGDwzt7btS0x_epGhCCpdjCPcfnFuH_UHS0rOzZ6tTIbbXC-wCWKVg43C9j8SE3E/s1600/sabine+legs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAwq8HP0DL-pjPYN5fQE65NXq2SWjz_I3dCKMvYVE7x6BMP4ItgSh0oI19IHhpkixxkrn2xfwFmHhAGDwzt7btS0x_epGhCCpdjCPcfnFuH_UHS0rOzZ6tTIbbXC-wCWKVg43C9j8SE3E/s320/sabine+legs.jpg" width="242" /></a></div>
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and fist pumping like a boss (this is me).<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbTOWJNAi1FP9Puie5SIVN7n5ood8oz0MMtQ_Keh7jXVG9KHuB5azDB9uC41YbXkTT2Stqnw3taLTJKkyJDiBJgrg91tS6tUEwHe1NRVchH5TG2A9X2T1Ke6JUtNtXgEr6uI4ObP6jE40/s1600/Karapoti+2013+kim+winning.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="175" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbTOWJNAi1FP9Puie5SIVN7n5ood8oz0MMtQ_Keh7jXVG9KHuB5azDB9uC41YbXkTT2Stqnw3taLTJKkyJDiBJgrg91tS6tUEwHe1NRVchH5TG2A9X2T1Ke6JUtNtXgEr6uI4ObP6jE40/s320/Karapoti+2013+kim+winning.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Clearly, it still needs some fine tuning and further development but I think it's a good start. Next on the Christmas list will be adoring fans, a large entourage and eye catching skinsuits (Mario's gold skinsuit concept...obviously, not me). <br />
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Then I'll definitely be there. The ego will have landed.<br />
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I guess the cool kids would call it swag. I'll need to start wearing my cap at a jaunty angle, don some baggy clothes* and get all down with my bad ass self.<br />
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<em>*Unfortunately, my first attempt at baggy clothing was an epic fail with some fans...</em><br />
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But I do kinda like the swag thing. To represent yourself. That is kinda cool. Sometimes, it's easy to lose a bit of that. <br />
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Yesterday, was my first MTB ride on kiwi soil since the whole crazy BC Bike Race experience. I loved it. My route selection was a bit ad lib and it was only when I rolled across McGhie's Bridge that I realised the last time I was riding that piece of trail was five months before. In the sunshine. Racing my favourite bike race in the whole wide world. On a super fly race steed. Against a bunch of super cool mega talented chicks. Representing myself.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifjs8KfivIX_Ha9RTPu5_kgRKnGF8sGpsdVEsRiiT6boszN3zHbKaQuNN2dq_6TTcsksH36FDsvR_20JuIgrYLvxiDDyMkYvYUFO4nwIs_PfSu2DcKRCcZmrDjbpgDbq_ulMM7DU4hqgg/s1600/karapoti+trail.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifjs8KfivIX_Ha9RTPu5_kgRKnGF8sGpsdVEsRiiT6boszN3zHbKaQuNN2dq_6TTcsksH36FDsvR_20JuIgrYLvxiDDyMkYvYUFO4nwIs_PfSu2DcKRCcZmrDjbpgDbq_ulMM7DU4hqgg/s320/karapoti+trail.jpg" width="238" /></a></div>
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I'm a eyes-forward-look-ahead-to-the-next-thing sort of a person. But I must admit it was cool to reminisce about how awesome it felt to be lead dog (that should probably be dawg) on the way up the gorge and still at the front of the race on the way back to the finish line. I don't think I'll ever be able to ride down the gorge again without a wee smile. It was a special day on the bike.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgiixscqlrYyR7_-jrYXnu1wJ05GLGvwu307_pKneha0jZOrtJkFhPQiEPw4XSyZuzYe8fhbKc2AfHeoYJfGDzfVH7D7pvrOVBZb4gYUFQdwGJIXyp8-SUbWGOsf7QSfJyaDhF2vl8SAU/s1600/Karapoti+2013+1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgiixscqlrYyR7_-jrYXnu1wJ05GLGvwu307_pKneha0jZOrtJkFhPQiEPw4XSyZuzYe8fhbKc2AfHeoYJfGDzfVH7D7pvrOVBZb4gYUFQdwGJIXyp8-SUbWGOsf7QSfJyaDhF2vl8SAU/s320/Karapoti+2013+1.jpeg" width="213" /></a></div>
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I read a cool quote recently by an American 10 kilometre runner fella, "racing is a celebration of my training". That was one way to celebrate.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKUiR7Ncfc5PbPB9mKNNKBN2_BixM4sZluLozQh72tFUDxnyk-o64FgM4asEgEjazqDj4coeZN9eabUGVVX0WNURjUH8e43Gs14yJQQsxhmM5pFLA1fsppgBlMVSuZukVMfz8Vek42ZQI/s1600/Karapoti+2013+5.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a> </div>
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So, wherever you are riding this weekend do it with style, panache, bravado and swag. Remember the awesome rides. And races. Represent yourself. Just remember though, it takes a certain sort of swag to pull off baggy armwarmers.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12045003078431271229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4335164352483536987.post-76921571873451127702013-08-01T01:41:00.000-07:002013-08-01T01:43:39.365-07:00Week 10: Just A NumberWeek 10. The numbers are almost down to single figures. Little numbers counting down. And that's not the only set of digits in my life. In fact, your average cycling geek is surrounded by them. Even more so if you have a coach with a penchant for data analysis. Small ones you want to make bigger, big ones you want to make smaller. All sitting there in brutal black and white honesty. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIQ7Bc7j1jBPgvvx9_GX5DDZZ4APPHRf7SNRuR0A0-mR0tx5BLgiUiHLK7LBVnTGaJXhyphenhyphenHgakZxkbPXiywG_HzjHxdweyeOznfHjbchu3b39vied9sbZEjPKJJ0dXjwwmsYQT75b09DWs/s1600/gadgets.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIQ7Bc7j1jBPgvvx9_GX5DDZZ4APPHRf7SNRuR0A0-mR0tx5BLgiUiHLK7LBVnTGaJXhyphenhyphenHgakZxkbPXiywG_HzjHxdweyeOznfHjbchu3b39vied9sbZEjPKJJ0dXjwwmsYQT75b09DWs/s320/gadgets.jpg" width="239" /></a></div>
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<em><span style="font-size: x-small;">Numbers everywhere! Coach adds some gadgets. </span></em></div>
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<em><span style="font-size: x-small;">The little white watch and RPE was all I used to use before!</span></em></div>
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Speed. Cadence. Power. Power to weight ratio. Peak power output for five minutes. For twenty minutes. For sixty minutes. Average speed for forty kilometers. Number of reps you can crank out. Kilometers pedalled. Meters climbed. Hours in your biggest week. Hours available in the day. Daylight hours. Sunshine hours. Time gap to the nearest rival behind you. And to the one behind them. A whole heap of digits that inspire a grin when they go up.<br />
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<em><span style="font-size: x-small;">The mighty SRM. </span></em></div>
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<em><span style="font-size: x-small;">What (or watt!) is given can be taken away!</span></em></div>
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<em><span style="font-size: x-small;"></span></em> </div>
What goes up, must come down. And it's not always a bad thing, sometimes there's nothing sweeter than seeing certain figures dropping. Time left struggling to get home in a headwind. Resting heart rate. Weight of your humble steed. Wait for your new steed. Number of reps left to crank out. Kilometers left to ride. Intervals left in the session. Minutes left in the interval. Seconds to go. Laps to go. Gap to the racer ahead of you. Time to finish your bell lap. Meters left to climb. Down to the line.<br />
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<em><span style="font-size: x-small;">Down to the line at Coppermine</span></em></div>
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There are also those which inevitably divide the masses and opinion alike. Little figures that provoke debate over a beer or coffee at cycling geek haunts, trendy two wheel friendly cafes and bike shops all over the world. Best wheel size. Ideal bar width. Optimal millimeters of travel. Number of gears. XX1. 2x10. Singlespeed. Not to mention the mother of all digits. The one that countless races that got away and moments of lost traction are held liable for. Every mountain bikers Holy Grail, perfect tyre pressure.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgspJaR4WnByDR8xKiXdgCeYTt-J8vaUl1vY6DaTdfPdONvtaral5_ZbjW7I-79yt340bcbp21ssYfiUueQ7whHbfTyf8EuumtxAK6Mr4Iipl4SpJDiB-IxCwY-IJBg5NCYI6kp8_amDNw/s1600/wheelsize.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><em><span style="font-size: x-small;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgspJaR4WnByDR8xKiXdgCeYTt-J8vaUl1vY6DaTdfPdONvtaral5_ZbjW7I-79yt340bcbp21ssYfiUueQ7whHbfTyf8EuumtxAK6Mr4Iipl4SpJDiB-IxCwY-IJBg5NCYI6kp8_amDNw/s320/wheelsize.jpg" width="239" /></span></em></a></div>
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<em><span style="font-size: x-small;">Wheel size is a very serious matter</span></em></div>
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There is, of course, one more. It cropped up in the interview I had on Friday. Nice journalist man says, "It's a cool story. Do you mind me asking...how old are you?". I chuckle. Mainly to buy time. For the first time ever, I had to give it some thought. Just like those old people who forget their birthdays and how many they've had. In a moment's clarity I realise the answer is thirty-four.<br />
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How did that happen? I remember the thirty milestone. It heralded the idea of hanging up any hope and dreams of elite performance. Resigning myself to the "way past it" basket. Funny how things work out. I'd kick the twenty-something me's butt on a bike right now.<br />
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<em><span style="font-size: x-small;">Ass kicking mode</span></em></div>
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<em><span style="font-size: x-small;">Photo credit: Simon Watts/bwp.co.nz/bikeNZ</span></em></div>
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I reminisce about an article I read that was written by Ironman legend Cameron Brown. Forties are the new thirties, he says. I enjoy Rebecca Rusch's stance. The 43 year old powerhouse greets questions of age with laughter and acts of defiance on the bike. I watch Sabine Spitz and Gunn Rita Dahle-Flesjaa draw swords. Twenty years of racing experience. Each. Forty-two versus forty-one. Kicking arse at altitude on a brutally physical World Cup course. Proving that age really is just a number. Now, that's a figure I'll settle for.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12045003078431271229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4335164352483536987.post-3545973444204783642013-07-25T01:43:00.000-07:002013-07-25T01:43:26.395-07:00Week 11: AllsortsAnd we're off. Week eleven (eleven weeks to go, that is). Dang! I hope I counted those weeks right this time.<br />
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This week is an ode to allsorts. All sorts of good sorts. The peeps that keep your head in the game and wheels turning, without the traumatically relocated rear mech striking the spokes. Cycling celebrates individuality. Blood, sweat and gears. The lone gritty cyclist grinding out miles of training in normal Wellington conditions. It's part of the bravado of our sport.<br />
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I guess I imagined that racing for 24 hours solo would take it to a new extreme. But, in fact, it makes you realise even more that this is a team game. Now, I'm not about to enlist a bunch of Mud Cycles Factory Racing Team domestiques to form a grupetto for an assault on the hors categorie grind at Mt Stromlo, despite the idea of snacks at a critical point on the eigth, or ninth, or tenth (you get the idea) ascent of the climb being mighty appealing already. <br />
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But, I am already making the most of the team resources. <a href="http://www.mudcycles.co.nz/">Slackboy</a> fixes bikes the bestest. <a href="http://www.informphysio.co.nz/">Greg</a> fixes people the bestest. <a href="http://www.powercookies.com/">Emily</a> makes the bestest cookies. <a href="http://cowbellcoaching.com/">Lisa</a> writes the bestest training. The list goes on and on. I feel very lucky. And I was reminded of that again this week.<br />
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It's getting the little things right that counts. Little things like a rear mech hanger that isn't bent sideways. Sadly, my utilisation of <em>all</em> of the course crossed the edge of the envelope and ended up with me dropping it like it's hot on the off camber on Sunday. <br />
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<em><span style="font-size: x-small;">Whoops!</span></em></div>
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Add <a href="http://www.facebook.com/pages/Revolution-Components/275564785920529?fref=ts">Revolution Components</a> to the list of good sorts. Reverse engineering a knackered piece of bike componentry can't be easy. It's telling when Slim says, "At least the race isn't the next day this time, Kim". My reputation precedes me. Another tolerant team member.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv7O447ns4CHFBm1AhSEQwgYfYRft8mO3luor7jm3qkSIfcUKf5uYfWvBHt70dLaQdl6jdnLvy8m_LV1ahjE67ZGoEh2ojUmBtENuy6rJOBQEjGn33Ma0aLyrhVj75Q8I0Rt6BAlIGd_s/s1600/hanger+new.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv7O447ns4CHFBm1AhSEQwgYfYRft8mO3luor7jm3qkSIfcUKf5uYfWvBHt70dLaQdl6jdnLvy8m_LV1ahjE67ZGoEh2ojUmBtENuy6rJOBQEjGn33Ma0aLyrhVj75Q8I0Rt6BAlIGd_s/s320/hanger+new.jpg" width="293" /></a></div>
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<em><span style="font-size: x-small;">Good as new and kiwi made.</span></em></div>
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<em><span style="font-size: x-small;">Thanks Revolution Components!</span></em></div>
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In many ways, I think I have the easiest part of the bargain of everyone. If not easier then definitely more straightforward. After all, all I have to do is follow a few simple instructions. Pedal. Eat. Don't stop pedalling. Don't stop eating. Follow your training plan for the next eleven weeks. <br />
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While the instructions are simple, the execution of them is not always straightforward. Tuesday was a victory for persistence. There are a couple of sessions that crop up in my training schedule that are rapidly followed by a sinking feeling. Don't get me wrong, I don't mind a bit of discomfort (that's the bravado speaking). But it's disappointing to fall short of the desired outcome. Time and time again. It's a goal. I get it. If it's achieved the goalposts move. <br />
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<em><span style="font-size: x-small;">That's my "I'm glad that's over" race face.</span></em></div>
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<em><span style="font-size: x-small;">I have a training one of them too.</span></em></div>
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I admit I've never been great at the spinning fast thing. I learned to pedal in Wales. There are lots of hills there. It was an era when steel frames ruled (they still do) and gearing choices were limited to saucer sized cassettes rather than dinner plates. I watched Miguel Martinez race at the World Championships in Switzerland without a granny ring on his bike. I thought it looked cool and instantly converted my race setup to 2x9. Add to the mix lots of encouragement along the lines of, "Check out the gear Kim's riding up that hill" and it would appear that the teenage female ego must be at least on par with your average male one. In a moment of heady high cadence defiance, I even rode up the infamous Devil's Staircase in the big dawg*. On my roadie. At sixteen. It resulted in a strange sensation in my kneecaps which when dissipated was replaced by a great feeling of satisfaction that it could be done. Style, finesse and efficiency? Pah! Stubbornness, brute strength and ignorance FTW.<br />
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For eighteen months I have embarked on a certain training session deep in the knowledge that the first low cadence bit would feel awesome then the high cadence bit would result in sore legs, expletives and almost certain failure to follow the instructions for long enough. But, my legs must have learned something in Canada. Or the maple syrup loading hasn't worn off yet. Because on Tuesday, they could keep spinning really fast. For the desired period of time. Same sore legs but only one expletive. <br />
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So, if at first you don't succeed, try, try again. Then keep trying, race a stage race, practice fist pumps, eat lots of maple syrup and try again.<br />
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<em>*only ever once. Once was enough!</em>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12045003078431271229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4335164352483536987.post-83733856731143304162013-07-18T01:38:00.000-07:002013-07-18T12:39:04.706-07:00Not the Princess DiariesBritish Columbia. Done and dusted. Goal two of three for the 2013 season. It's a funny thing having goals. I'd never really set them before. And when I had, it was unlikely to be more than two weeks out from an event. My goal setting used to go along the lines of assessing how haphazard my self prescribed training had been for the days prior, ascertaining my general feeling of karma, checking the weather forecast, reading my horoscope and deciding what outcome I fancied from a rapidly approaching race. Kinda "pin the tail on the donkey-freestyle-ad lib" goal setting. Structured and planned, not so much. I'm pretty sure a fortune cookie would have been more reliable. Nek minnit, enter the world of being coached. Much to learn you still have, young padawan.<br />
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<em><span style="font-size: x-small;">You thought I wasn't gonna sneak any more BCBR photos in here? Really?!</span></em></div>
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While I am still no Jedi master, my third goal for 2013 is one I set fifteen months ago. Yep, you read it right - fifteen months not fifteen minutes ago. That makes it my longest goal ever by a long way. Although, I admit, there was some freestyling involved. A matter of days after declaring I'd never ever consider racing solo for 24 hours, I was setting a goal for the World 24 Hour Solo Championships in Canberra. My justification was predominantly based on a geographic argument rather the consideration of what is involved in pedalling in circles (race organisers call them laps to make it sound better) for an inordinate amount of time. The reasoning went like this - it's a major event just across the Tasman, it would be rude not to go.<br />
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<em><span style="font-size: x-small;">The moment of realisation that there is more pedalling to do after more than 23 hours of pedalling</span></em></div>
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Time has flown by since and here we are with less than three months to go until the big day. The upside of goal setting is it gives you focus. The downside of goal setting is it gives you focus. So, here's the you can't have your cake and eat it bit...<br />
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Last year, I raced a lot of cyclocross. Like, a real big lot. In fact, almost every weekend from May to August. It was awesome. It taught me heaps about bike handling, making it hurt, racing with the boys, wearing skinsuits and some 'cross specific on the bike off the bike hoppity hop over barriers stuff. It was as new an experience for me as it was for New Zealand. It was such a cool time with a cool bunch of people that I was a little sad when winter came to an end.<br />
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<em><span style="font-size: x-small;">On the seventh day, she rode. Every single one!</span></em></div>
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With a huge endurance goal looming, comes the self realisation that solely smashing yourself to bits for 50 minutes might not be sufficient when it comes to the crunch in October*. Unless, your game plan is to go out in a blaze of glory after a scorchingly hot opening lap after performing a sweet 'cross remount off the Le Mans start. I'm keen to hang in there a bit longer than that. But still do the sweet remount.<br />
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So, this winter I will be doing a bit less 'cross racing. I'm still gonna enjoy a whole heap of racing on the doorstep (after all, the mighty Hutt does offer the muddiest CX series there is) and some of it will be week in week out but my travel further afield will be much less. Fear not, I am sure this will change in 2014. This is just a short term gotta meet that goal I set fifteen months ago thing. It will also have the fringe benefit of helping the bank balance before my second overseas racing adventure of the year.<br />
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I'm stoked to see a formal official proper National CX Championships on the calendar this winter. While I can wholeheartedly sympathise with those who prefer to just get up in the morning and race a bike round a park as fast as possible without worrying about reading the tome that is the UCI rule book while warming up on rollers looking serious beforehand, it is super cool to have a formal official proper National CX Champion's jersey up for grabs at the pointy end of the field. And I'm sure the guy and gal that get to wear them will do heaps to promote cyclocross here as well as represent New Zealand on far shores. It'll be me again when the goal setting thingy says so.<br />
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And, now that I'm all enthused by this goal setting stuff, I thought I'd share a bit of the countdown to the big day on my blog. I've always been rubbish at keeping a diary but I hope that the pressure of posting sequential week by week blog posts called "Week #" and making them look all neat and tidy and in order will help spur me to stick with it. Expect less Princess Diaries, more Toughen Up Princess Diaries. Week 10 kicks off next week. As long as I counted the weeks on the calendar correctly, that is.<br />
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<em>*my coach has known this fact forever</em>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12045003078431271229noreply@blogger.com0