Iron Jack

“Are you going riding tomorrow?” I asked a colleague at a posh do on Friday night.

“Nope,” he grimaced. “Bad back. You?”

“Yup, tomorrow I’m riding the Tinman course at Mt Maunganui,” I boasted proudly. “Its completely flat, the Mt to Papamoa, really looking forward to it.”

“Oh bugger about the flats,” he said. “You want to ride around the lake here, at least its undulating.”

“I’ve been around the lake here,” I boasted again. “And I’m over the hills and looking forward to the flats.”

After he left the table I leaned over and whispered to my husband, “why on earth wouldn’t you want to do flats?”

He shrugged, agreed he was mad and got on with the show.

Well, aren’t I just eating some humble pie now?

Yesterday Oli and I drove over to Mt Maunganui - its a coastal surf town attached to Tauranga City. I’ve been holidaying there my whole life, as my grandparents retired there when I was about five. Every school holidays was spent at their house, hanging out at the beach and walking up “the Mt”. Now we live in Rotorua its only 45 minutes away. I’m sorry to say that we still don’t get over there often enough, but we try to make the most of it when we do.

My folks were going to visit my Nana for the weekend. So I thought it was the perfect opportunity to ride the bike leg of the Tinman, which I’m racing on December 6. I’m doing the Standard distance - 1500m swim, 40 km ride and 10 km run. It will be the longest distance for me yet, and hopefully good preparation for the Half Ironman almost exactly one month later. According to the Tinman website, www.tinmantriathlon.co.nz its 104 days, 13 hours, 47 minutes and 48 seconds and counting until splash off.

The forecast was perfect, so for the first time all winter I didn’t need to wear my long johns - good bye to the stripes! It was fantastic to get out in shorts and a T-shirt, summer is coming! I planned to ride from my Nana’s house into the Mt - the opposite way to race day - and from there out to the turnaround point at Papamoa and then back to my Nana’s.

I pedalled off, successfully negotiating the traffic lights at the end of the road and managing to unclip my bike clips with plenty of time before the red light. A good start.

After just a short while I ended up on the long straight road into the Mt. Riding along I could see the Mt ahead of me, looming in the distance, and to my right I could see the beautiful blue sea, with crisp white surf banging into the beach. Loving it.

I was managing to keep my cadence up in the late 80s and 90s for most of the way, every now and then breaking over 100. My legs were spinning well and I was loving it. I also thought I was going really fast. Funny how pride always comes before a fall - not a literal fall - but a knock to the pride regardless. I got to the foot of the Mt in what I thought would be record time.

I should know better, turnaround points are always a mental problem for me. I always think I’ve gone further than I actually have, then I realise that I’ve got even further to go, I get despondent, I slow down and it all turns to custard. Need I say more. I’d done the 12km in 33 minutes - just a fraction faster than standard times on undulating roads. Gutted. I thought I had gone a lot further, a lot faster.

So I turned around and started heading out to Papamoa. My legs were starting to get really tired and I was really annoyed with myself. And then I realised what Greg was meaning about the flats. You don’t get any break from them. Your legs need to keep spinning all the time. At least with hills and undulating ground you get to rest on the way down. Not so with flats, major reality check. Something Lawrence said about “hills being my friend” also started to tick away in my mind. Okay, thanks guys, I’ve got it now.

By this time I was feeling thoroughly annoyed with myself and fed up. All of a sudden I came up to the turnaround point.

“This can’t be right,” I thought to myself. “It’s not nearly far enough.”

I suddenly had this sneaky feeling that perhaps the route required two laps. Two laps of the flat, straight, ‘never-get-a-break’ ride. Bugger.

I went a bit further than the turnaround point, mainly to get some more time on the bike, because I knew I didn’t have time to do two laps. The first thing I did when I got home was check the site, yup, two laps.

There are a number of positives to take from this ride - despite the disappointments.

(a) it was a beautiful day and I was out in it, exercising, and lots of other people were just standing in line for ice-cream

(b) I can easily ride 26km just like that, when in January I struggled to ride 10km

(c) I now know what to expect for the Tinman and Half Ironman (same course) so I will be mentally prepared

104 days, 13 hours, 34 minutes and 10 seconds until splash-off…and counting.

My riding shoes are propped up in front of the fire - with a steady stream of water pouring out of them.

You may recall that these are the riding shoes that cost the same as a pair of decent leather high-heeled boots and they symbolise a major turning point in my quest to do Ironman in 2011. And I actually love them as much as I love my red high-heeled boots, which is really saying something.

Back to the water.

Its been raining in Rotorua for six days straight. I realise that’s not a great advertisement for our wonderful town, but hey, its winter and its a fact of life. 

This week’s RATs bunch ride had been arranged out in the Waikite Valley - a gorgeous farming valley only 10 minutes drive from the centre of town. After last week’s ride in the fog on busy main roads, we decided to take it out of town for a while. And I’d been looking forward to it all week! When the alarm went off this morning, (after a really heavy night of rain), it was dry and there were even patches of blue sky. I texted Irene, our camp mother:

“What do you reckon? It’s dry here.”

“Raining here, just moving stock, will decide in 30 minutes.”

Thirty minutes later it had stopped raining out there, and starting raining here, but we were on. I bundled the bike on the car and headed out. It was raining when I left home and it was absolutely pouring down by the time I got to town. It didn’t get any better on the other side or on the drive out to Waikite.

I arrived at the Bluff Sports Club - should have taken a photo, if that wasn’t a typical Kiwi country rugby club I don’t know what is.

It was just sprinkling lightly by this stage so we decided to “just do it”.

Irene, Cheryl and myself headed off. Straight up a hill. I am getting better at the hills but there is no way I can catch Irene, she’s a demon. Before we even reached the top of that first hill it was raining hard. And it didn’t stop.

It was actually a great ride. Very hilly and undulating with a few flats in between. On a nice day it would be absolutely gorgeous. Lush green paddocks, farm animals as far as the eye could see. Shame I couldn’t see anything out of my rain speckled glasses.

It was also a great learning ride for me as it was the first time I had ridden in heavy rain - actually any rain at all come to think of it. I have nightmares about skidding off my bike, so it was great to head down some hills, trust the brakes, and get around some corners. I also spent a bit of time standing up on the pedals today too, and while the hills are still hard work, they are getting easier.

The talking got less and less as we got wetter and wetter. An hour later we got back to the clubhouse and headed off. Cold, wet but happy.

Saturday morning dawned cold, bright, clear and windy - very windy. But having postponed a ride the day before, I knew it was time to literally get on my bike.

I looked spectacular, if I do say so myself. Reebok compression tights, Reebok compression top - both on the bottom layer. Next layer, olive green thermal top, padded bike banks. Next layer, Reebok windbreaker jacket, purple stripey long johns - the sexiest pants you have ever seen. Next layer, fluro yellow cycling top. Boootiful.

I met fellow RATs club member Irene in town just after 9am, dropping Oli at a friend’s house on the way in. We saddled up and headed out of town, deciding to ride around Mt Ngongotaha. I hadn’t done this ride before, but had wanted to for a while, I just didn’t want to do it on my own. We live in a suburb just out of town called Ngongotaha and our block looks onto the mountain. Even though I grew up in Auckland, we are so at home here that I claim it as my maunga - or mountain, which is what anchors me.

We took a slightly longer, less busy route to get there. This route ended with a nasty hill taking us onto another very nasty hill that was the beginning of the around mountain ride. Nasty. Irene absolutely kicked my arse. She has been riding a lot longer than me and this was really only my second proper ride, but even so, she cranked up the hills. At some places I felt like I was practically going backwards! But I’d get around the corner and she would always be there waiting for me.

There were about three killer hills on that lefthand stretch of the mountain. Cold, icy, up. Then we whizzed down into Paradise Valley - very carefully given some of the ice patches around.

“That was a bit better,” I breathed as we rounded up at the bottom.

“Yeah, but you know what - now that we’ve come down, we’ve gotta climb out!” she said cheerily.

We both agreed that the way out and up this side was a lot easier going than the initial hill sections. And it was. Stunning actually. Sunny, views out over farms and native bush. Just gorgeous actually. I loved it. There were still some hills, but I was finally brave enough to try and get up on my pedals - what a difference. I can’t go for very long standing up, but it was a bit of a breakthrough. Every hill we can across for the rest of the ride, I stood up. Awesome.

We eventually came out on the main highway and rode back into town - into a head wind. We eventually made it back to the cars two hours and 31 kilometres later. Way too slow for me for the Half Ironman in January, but a good breakthrough ride and definately a confidence booster. Looking forward to the next one.