Old Dogs and New Tricks

What do they say about old dogs and new tricks? Well, change my pedals to strap-ons and call me rookie because this morning I repeated a mistake that I haven't done since, well, since I was scared of clip in pedals. I had good reason to be scared of those but that's a topic for another post.

It started out fine, just a typical mid-week ride with a few mates around our favourite and well-worn loop. Error No. 1: my rear tyre was half flat indicating a slow leak. Clever Tomawac appears on my shoulder and says, "just change it now in the comfort of your home and be sure". Stoopid Tomawac appears on the opposite shoulder and says, "nah, ignore that namby pamby, it'll be right". You have to do that guy in a loud, macho voice to get the full effect. So I listened to HIM. Stoopid.

All was peachy until about 35km down and on the way back to the city, which is strange, because it means Murphy's Law must have been sleeping in, otherwise the next bit would have happened at the furthest point from my destination. Where was I? Oh yeah, BANG, WHOOSH, PHSSST, CLUNKER, CLUNKER. For those reading this who aren't cyclists, that's the sound of your tyre failing on a significant scale, i.e. blow out. Again, Mr Murphy was napping, as it occurred when I was slowing to make a turn, instead of belting down a hill at 75kph. So, I roll to the curb and perform the world's slickest tube change. Looked like a pro mech (apologies to any real pro mechanics reading this). AND I even remembered to check the inside of the tyre for nasty objects. None found, so on went the new tube and I loudly blamed its predecessor for what must be a faulty valve. Enter Error No.2: if you don't find a cause for the flat, look harder. Most likely it is not an act of God. Instead, I blithely start off to finish the ride

BANG, WHOOSH, PHSSST, CLUNKER, CLUNKER.

Phukit.

The other riders now stop, unclip, tip their heads forward and stare at me over the top of their sunglasses. Wordlessly. No need for words really, the stare has it covered. Clever Tomawac pipes up “told you so”. Stoopid Tomawac yells “SHUT-THE-PHUK-UP buddy or I’ll come over there and….” But neither of them offers to help with the tyre. So I put on my i-don’t-care face and settle in to change it again, but with a greater show of investigation this time. “Don’t know what happened there” I exclaim to the group. “You screwed up” came the anonymous reply. Stoopid Tomawac chimes in “just bad luck, can’t happen a third time. Just fix it and get going”. And while the temptation is there to listen to him again, I resist. Instead, I put some air into the tube and listen for the escaping sound and check it out on the tyre in that exact spot. Voila. I find a tear in the tyre where the tube is bulging out once it is inflated and bearing my weight, which is increasing lately, but that’s a topic for another post.

I also notice the condition of the tyre in general. Enter all-encompassing-rookie-mistake. It seems that I’ve been recalcitrant in replacing the tyres and pushed my luck too far. The tyre is a shambles! There are holes, tears, cracking, the works. And me a gear junkie. Oh the shame. Oh the shit that I get from the group. For those non-Aussies reading this, Australian men bond through a complex and confusing ritual of sarcasm. This morning I bonded deeply with those guys. So after taking our relationships to new levels of closeness, I proceeded to lift my reputation out of the gutter by boldly declaring the solution is to insert some layer of matter between the innocent nakedness of the tube and the damaged old hag of a tyre. Namely a $5 note. “DON’T SNICKER OR I’LL….” Be quiet Stoopid Tomawac, your done for the day. Time to fix this baby and finish the rapidly-imploding-ride. Folding money in place. Check. Tyre back on. Check. Tube inflated while holding breath. Check. All done with speed and no haste. Check. Once again I mount the steed and roll away. Looking around I can see everyone holding their breath, waiting for, well, you know. It doesn’t come. All is right and proper in my world and I attempt to create an air of IT NEVER HAPPENED. We reach a point where the group turns for coffee and I quietly declare it might be prudent for me to head straight home.

Believe it or not, Murphy once more is kind and its not until the group are around the corner and out of sight before, yep, you guessed it. WHPCC. Number three. This time I’m out of options. Clever Tomawac draws breath to say “Told you so” again, but thinks better of it and stays mum. I start walking towards home with the dreaded idea of passing a taxi rank and under the cloak of invisibility (surely one would be lying around handy) slip into the taxi unnoticed. I reach the rank to find no cab. “Oh Good Morning Mr Murphy, finally awake are we?”. In my dim corners of memory I recall hearing about how you can ride on a flat if you positively, absolutely have to. I have to. So I do. Guess what? You can ride on a flat. Gently. And with my best “I’ve just ridden 200km and I’m taking it easy going home” look firmly in place, I get myself home.

Lessons for today? 1) Don’t skimp on the gear. Always use the best you afford 2) Be proactive. Ignore Stoopid . He/she is an idiot. They sound cool and confident, but they are not. They are reckless and without a sense of consequence. 3) If you are going to ignore points 1 and 2, then do it away from your ride group.

Ok dear reader, I’m off for a long weekend on the sunshine coast, where the bike will have a full tyre, tube & anything else Clever-Tomawac-can-think-of changed.

Ciao.

Seems I Don't Melt

Well, it seems I can ride in the wet.

I just don’t like it. Here I was thinking it was a physical impossibility, but it turns out I don’t melt and its not that bad. But its not that great either.

My Sunday ride with the group was cancelled due to weather, but as it started to fine slightly by 7am, and a few hardy souls sent txt messages about a meet-up. I answered. Certainly not an earth-shattering ride but a ride nevertheless. We looped through Fig Tree Pocket, which is a hobby farm suburb of Brisbane and must be in a well disguised hollow as the temperature dropped several degrees once we rolled through the area.

With the roads still wet, and that basically didn’t change all morning, we nursed the bikes around the corners and even had some wheel-spin on steeper climbs. So there was no aggressive tactics or intimidation going on. Well almost. There was this one part where a certain person did gallop off down a long, gentle descent but no one was up to a response. Shame, but probably wise.

Ended with several coffees and a modest 65k on the odometer. Average was just on 29kph which is a measure of the road conditions really. Honest, we didn’t slack off much at all. But it counts in the bank of kms and will help down the road.

I’m planning the next run, just to keep Iliketoast happy, but I’m not rushing it as the legs were dead from last week’s twin jaunts. Me no likey sore legs.

T.

P.S. No sign of going near a pool as yet. But it will happen. Soon. ish.

Running Hurts!

Folks, a short post today to update you on my week.

I started to feel ok yesterday at work - physically that is, not emotionally, professionally or spiritually. Those are crushed forever by the oppressive weight of government yokedom. No, in body I felt ready for something more. It had already been a solid start to the week with the Gold Coast jaunt on Sunday and backed up by a run to work on Monday. But I was keen, so I laced up and ran home.

Oops. My performance did not meet my enthusiasm.

All was travelling fine on the first 2-3km although the legs were somewhat annoyed with me for asking them to do this so soon after the last time. But they begrudgingly agreed. In fact, some actual rhythm was found and I was optimisticlly visualising my run at Noosa and desparately tried to imprint this feeling to memory. Then things started to hurt.

And hurt and hurt. By 4km my nerve damaged left leg was complaining and starting to malfunction. All semblence of rhythm was now gone and in its place was a gait more akin to a weather-beaten pirate with a peg leg. A short walk was required to reset the style. Which brough me to the second problem - starting again. Me didn't want to do it. But I did and slowly trudged up the major hill at the end in a metronomic shuffle. Finally at home the impact from the run was evident. I remembered to stretch and try to pull out the kinks in the muscles, and spent 15mins on the legs and managed to feel less like a train wreck.

So a few days rest are in order. Maybe that swim later in the week.

Gold Coast Sojourn

Well folks, I have much for you today.

Part I – The Ride

Sunday’s ride to the Gold Coast was outstanding.

It does not get any better. Woke at 5am in darkness, it gets light here around 6:30am nowadays, and put myself together. Saturday was the coldest we’ve had this winter, down to 7deg and I felt it. So I was ready for Sunday, but thankfully it was a bit warmer and I got away with arm and leg warmers, and just a t-shirt under the jersey. Some of the others rugged up more but they were shedding clothing by midway like a moulting Burmese cat in summer.

After the meeting point we formed our pack of eight and settled into a steady rhythm of 33kph. It was decided to follow a new route that hugged the M1 motorway more than the old way that passed through the town of Beenleigh, which is slightly inland and includes a 10% climb of 750m. Nothing to get excited about normally, but when its at the start of a 125km ride it makes some of the group anxious. Anyhoo, we tried this new way and it was certainly flat, smooth surface and fast. We caught up with a group of 30+ who were doing the same ride and that made it easier for a while as we just tagged onto the back of them and coasted much of the time. Bit like cheating really. Interesting thing – they were an organised coaching ride that a guy called Marcel runs out of Brisbane and the rumour was he makes a bundle of cash from these rides. Plus, if someone flats, he stops and changes the tyre for them. And charges for the privilege. Now, that strikes me as a bit mercenary, but perhaps its just to keep the pack rolling. It left us wondering just how much he makes on such an outing.

So once we reached 35km it was decided to lift the pace and bid Marcel et al “au revoir “ and lifted the pace to 36kph for the next 25km. Once on the road to Hope Island, we put our heads down and the stronger riders wound it up to just over 40kph and held it there until we arrived at the northern tip of the Gold Coast. I was starting to feel the pinch at this point, having taken my share of the lead and the breeze was increasing by this time and making it tougher going on the front. But the sight of the Pacific Ocean was enough to raise our spirits and keep the train going to the end. The water was magnificent – slight green tinge sparkling in the early sun, sky perfect winter blue and a small but “totally rad dude” wave happening. Approaching Southport, two of our guys started a gallop that I just couldn’t match and instead stayed with the others and enjoyed the scenery. We caught them on the approach to Surfers Paradise and all rolled to the café where a buffet breakfast was waiting.

Our chief statistician Paul had arranged for his wife to meet us there and before we knew it he had the laptop out of the car and was uploading all the stats from his Garmin. Very handy unit that tracks all his personal data plus the bike’s information merged with the GPS feature. The result is a route mapped to Google Earth’s images with data annotated on the route. I could certainly use that gadget next time as I didn’t mind-stamp all of the turns and could certainly find myself in strange lands asking directions. And since I’m a guy, I.Don’t.Do.That.

My stats? 91km @ 32kph average. Not bad, not great. I’ve done better but not while recovering from nerve damage, so I’m content. Oh and my new heart rate monitor….excellent. I didn’t watch it much during the ride, but did take a peek from time to time and it seemed to be hovering on 145-150bpm. The average at the end was 135bpm so does that mean I didn’t work hard enough? I’m still learning. The max was 175bpm.

The plan was to continue south along the Gold Coast strip after breakfast to the township of Robina where we can catch a train back to Brisbane, however I managed a lift with Paul and wife, so I reclined in leather-interior comfort all the way home. Fighting the pangs of guilt, I closed my eyes and told myself, “next time I’ll ride back”. Two of my group did indeed ride back, finishing with a grand total of 186km!!! Major kudos to them. Personally I will aim for a century ride next time. Maybe.

Part II – The Run

I decided this morning that it was time to multitask my training again. By that, I mean back-to-back training days. Since the injury to my spine I’ve needed to rest between training days and the effort to get the dysfunctional left side of me to perform generally leaves me disinclined to train the next day. However, the road to Noosa in November 2007 will require this to change.

So, I found myself up early this morning and determined to make good on my threat/promise to do a ‘serious’ run in a previous post. The plan started to take form in my mind – run to work the long way. Exactly what that was I hadn’t decided yet, but I knew there had to be a long way. Kind of a yin and yang thing. I knew there was a short way, as that’s what I ran the other week before the head-cold-from-hell struck. So I decided to find the long way. Well I found it.

Distance: 7.8km
Time: 41:15
BPM: Ave 145, max 185

The hardest thing is that this was what I used to consider a short run, but now its my absolute maximum. It was mostly flat, except the monster climb straight out of my street. Can’t say I’m a fan of the hill first up, it just seems to sap the energy from the get-go and you are always struggling to recover. I know that’s where the max bpm was. I failed to find my any rhythm for most of the run and was battling sore legs (I wonder why?) when I found a training buddy. The council bus. Yep, it was picking up passengers just ahead of me on Vulture St and seemed to keep pace with me. I decided that I was going to beat it to the city. Sure he had to stop to pick up people, but my left leg doesn’t work very well, so I figure that was a fair trade. It was touch & go, each of us leap frogging the other. I played fair and stopped at the lights when they were against me. But in the end, he had NOTHING. I found form when it was needed and cruised to victory. I could almost hear the crowd, I’m sure the passengers were on my side.

So there you have it. Two days in a row done. Now to back up and swim tomorrow and see how the body replies. If it’s willing, we are firmly on the road to Noosa.

Tomawac out.

Another day older and deeper in debt

Just a quick post to declare I'm another year older and perhaps even a little wiser. I had been a year of ups and downs and certainly one of my most challenging periods, but perhaps I've also learned more in that time than most other years.

My day started very nicely with breakfast in bed, followed by presents and even picked up for a great lunch. My presents you ask? All about the bike of course. Firstly, A HEADRATE MONITOR. Yes, finally I will be getting some input to my training apart from pain and discomfort, which on closer examination aren't the most ideal training aids. Dragged screaming and kicking into the modern age, I will now start to record stuff and even listen to the beeping as my watch tells me to slow down or speed up. Probably the latter mostly. But it has been a long-time-coming and now Ms Polar and me will be out there together.

My other present was the dvd of the 2006 Tour de France highlights, which I have been wanting for, well, about a year now, since its about to start again for 07. Last year was a particularly significant race, with Stue O'Grady fracturing a vertebrae very early in the race due to a fall, but finishing the entire thing anyway. Of course, Queensland's Robbie McEwan winning another green sprinter's jersey, and finally the controveral recovery and win by Floyd Landis. A must have I reckon.

And I'm using today as a 'line in the sand' for the training. I've rested for two weeks now with this head cold and although the retched thing hasn't gone, I've had enough of not doing much. So this weekend is starting back to things. My plan? a light run tomorrow - I know I promised a serious run, but I'll get to that. And then Sunday is a cycle to the Gold Coast with the Sunday crew, which will be about 125km. Its a regular winter ride for this group and its overdue. I'll post a ride report afterwards, but it always has some drama and excitment. Stay tuned.

Slightly Older Tomawac out

Return to the Road with a Surprise

Well folks, I have managed to shake off the dreaded headcold-from-hell and get back out for some light training. I say light, which it honestly how it started out to be, but true to form I had difficulty in keeping it that way. Like a taper, I find that most challenging. Perhaps its just that I get out there and decide "I'm here, I might as well do something useful". Anyway, I kitted up and went for a solo ride. I started gently and rolled through some back streets partly to find a new path to the city and also to check out the suburb where a friend and fellow blogger lives (Ihatetoast). This achieved and finding my lung capacity not totally gone, I kept going to the city and beyond. This took me over Brisbane's largest bridge the Story Bridge (see gratuitous night pic), which is not what anyone would call cycle-friendly. But it was the quickest way to get where I wanted and I figured, "I'll just dash over safe and sound". I was right on the latter, totally wrong on the former. The aforementioned lung capacity.... evaporated on the slight but long climb over the bridge once I engaged "dash" mode on the engine. The result was I spent an uncomfortably long time on the bridge with zooming traffic. But I made it to the northside of Brisvegas and headed out to the airport and surrounding areas. Its a popular route for cyclists here and although it was a solo ride, I found some energy to punch into the wind and keep the speed to a respectable 34kph average for the 55km trip. I did stop on the way back for 5 minutes to check out the docked ship at Brett's wharf. So there was a little breather towards the end. But... the real news is...... I could stand on the pedals!

I haven't been able to do that with any success since the surgery, which is now over 9 months ago. Oh I've tried, but its like running...I need power and control in the ankle and foot. And that hasn't been there. But today I just gave it a try, as I usually do, and it didn't collapse under me as usual. It wasn't perfect but it was better than its been. Man, it felt good. So much in fact, that I stood at every opportunity up hills and climbed like I used to. It was one of my favourite things to do in the past and something that I tended to do better than many and so was my trump card. It also means things with the nerves, etc, are improving. Its so slow, like watching the shadows move across the ground, that unless you measure it over a decent amount of time, it appears there is no movement at all.

Hence I'm quite thrilled at the moment. Sure I overdid it and made my foot/ankle hurt a little, and I stopped standing on the pedals towards the end. Fooey to you doctor. Next step, a serious run. Perhaps to work tomorrow. Maybe the next day.

Stay tuned, there's definitely light at the tunnel's end now.

Stand-in-the-pedals Tomawac out.

Slight Loss Of Momentum

Since my 'breakthrough' last week, ie that I can in fact run. Of sorts. I've celebrated by doing pretty much nothing physical. Now I have some very good reasons for this, which I will now share. Reason No.1: ITS BEEN RAINING. People who live outside our beautiful state of Queensland won't know why this is reason for cheering, but since we have been in the worst drought on record for a couple of years, any light shower that lasts longer than 15mins we call significant rainfall. So as it has rained solidly for days, we are very happy here in the Sunshine State. And athletes are spoilt for great training conditions, hence we tend to avoid the elements like rain, cold, wind.

Reason No.2: I.Have.A.Cold. Not the sniffles but the real thing. Sad eyes, slow walk, complaints, a picture of dejection and suffering. So a run is out. And no, I'm not happy because now that I know running isn't going to completely cripple me, I am ready to start a regime. But both the rain and the headcold can't last, surely. So stay tuned.

I want to do a call out to some special people who have been a big influence on this blog happening. Firstly KatyTheGreaty of Dreams, Ponderings and Athletic Wanderings fame. I work with Katy and she has conquered her own challenges, in particular this, which she managed to do while running the Hawaii marathon. But she still finished the thang and didn't have it fixed until returning to Oz. Now she sports some serious metal in that leg, but she too has returned to running and is wayyyyy in front of me. This girl has some major kahunas and was out there 'justing do it' long before Nike every thought of it. So you rock Katy.

The next person is Bold of Bolder In Boulder, which if you have the slightest interest in triathlon, will have no doubt heard of. He's a legend of the tri world in the US and beyond and personifies everything that us age-groupers are about, namely out there giving it our total best and enjoying the entire experience and people. He has a wide group of 'peeps' who support each other either at events or on-line and share knowledge, wisdom, experience, humour and prove that the whole is greater than the sum of the parts. You rock too Bold.

So if you feel like a laugh or just to share in some fine people's experiences, then stop by their blogs.

Ok, I promise the next post will detail some training data to astound and amaze you.

Tomawac out.

The Game is ON!

Peoples, this is my first post and, well, its a big one. You'll see from my profile that I am in a state of recovery. Nerve recovery. And that's not anything to sneeze at. Its been just over eight months since my spinal surgery and the nerve damage is very slowly being repaired. It seems such things do take a long time. OK, the doctor did tell me this, but like most things in the world, I naturally figured he didn't mean me. So imagine my shock and horror that the recovery is indeed taking that long. In fact, I was starting to think some of his other declarations might be true too. Namely that the total recovery time will be approximately 18 months. That one I can take, but the others such as "you won't get all the feeling back in your leg, foot, backside, etc", and "you won't be able to run", well he can stick those right up his stethoscope.

But the news is....I've proved him wrong on the last one. Because I did run. I ran about 6km to be more precise. So that counts as a run. The other part of this news is that this means if I build that 6km into 10km, then I can do Noosa again!! That's my goal; to do my favourite event again. Because let me tell you, when the doc said "the operation was a success, and you should walk again, but of course you'll never run again", I screamed inside like a B-grade horror film victim. Over the last four years triathlon has been a big focus in my life and perhaps even saved it. That's a topic for another post, but it certainly fixed some things up. And I've raced in Australia's two premier events - Noosa and Mooloolaba - and loved them. So now it seems I am still in with a chance of doing them again. No, I won't be aiming at a PB but hell I'll take anything to still be there. My plan? A sizzling swim, a blistering cycle and then a non-walk run. To finish will be a milestone for me, and to be there amongst mates and family will be the reward.

So folks, there it is. The reason for this blog I guess. I'll update you next time on my other training, but as cycling is what I do for fun, its never been an issue. Swimming on the other hand, well that'll happen. The run is the challenge. Its not pretty, there's an obvious limp happenin' but hey. I'm there. So stay tuned if you feel like it. I'll keep you posted on how it goes.

Tomawac out.