Rangitoto Swim

With hopefully some Ironman fitness left in me, I decided to enter in the Rangitoto to St Helliers 4.6km swim, which was on the Sunday after getting back from our week up north. I'd only been for a couple of swims since the Ironman, but I've wanted to do this swim and I thought now would probably be as good as any time.

The swim starts on Rangitoto Island, so it starts with a ferry ride across in the morning. I was surprised to see a very large contingent of swimmers at the ferry terminal when I was dropped off, I don't think so many speedos have been seen walking around the Viaduct before. It was nearly 500 swimmers in all. This, in fact, was going to be my first trip out to Rangitoto - Anna and I have just never managed to organised to get ourselves there yet. Not that I spent much time on the island. Time to lube up, get into the wetsuit (though some do it without - crazy) and jump into the water. After some mixed weather forecasts during the week, the day turned out sunny but with a bit of wind and swell (but more on that later).

The gun went off and the start was the usual mess - some bugger even kicked more goggles off! But I eventually found myself some room and settled into the swim. Though for all the wanting to get away from the pack - once you do there are always those thoughts about "why is no one around me". The only company I did seem to have was some crazy lady who seemed to be intent on swimming 6km from the way she was criss-crossing in front of me.

The first half of the swim was pretty good, except for the fact it felt like I was going no where. When you are sighting your destination from 4 kilometres away, it takes a while for it to look like it is getting any closer. The second half of the swim was much tougher. I was definitely starting to tire and my stroke with my left arm was only just getting out of the water. But worst of all, the swell really started to pick up, so much so that sighting became worthless as every time I looked up all I good see was waves. Apart from making it really hard to keep your rhythm, the swell had an even worse affect, it started to make me feel sea sick! This was most uncomfortable (I don't even get sea sick on a boat), and now really how you want to be feeling when you still have 1-2km of swimming ahead of you. I had to stop a few times to right the stomach and make sure I wasn't swimming out into the Pacific!

I soldiered on, but more than a few times I wondered what the hell I was doing out there. It was much relief to finally get within St Helliers Bay, with the finish now not too far away, but also with the seas much calmer. I finally managed to make my way up on the beach after 1:23.16 of swimming, in 97th place. Rich, you'd be happy to know one thing crossed my mind as I ran up that beach - "nutter"!

North by Northwest

That was the direction we headed on the morning of Easter Saturday with Rae & Tom and Duncan & Leanne to spend the week up in the Bay of Islands. We had a place in the sleepy town of Russell - New Zealand's first capital, albeit for only a year. And what a brilliant relaxing week it was.

Duncan and Leanne were only up for the weekend, but with it being Easter weekend, sleepy Russell was pretty much in a coma. Nevertheless, we made our own fun, Duncan's birthday was cause for some champagne, and the boys trumped the girls in every game we played.

On the Easter Monday we thought we would head over for lunch at Kerikeri and a look around. Now, you would think that if you owned a cafe, a long weekend Monday would be a pretty good day to be open. You would think.... But no, Kerikeri was as dead as the Dodo, and we ended up doing four laps of the place before we found somewhere for lunch - only to be charged an additional 15% surcharge (thank you General Secretary Clark and her comrades). In fact, we were a bit miffed about all the fuss that is made of Kerikeri, there didn't seem much to it to us.

On the Wednesday, we decided to make the journey up to the tip on the country - Cape Reinga. Note for anyone else thinking of making the trip - it is a bloody long way! With a short stop in Kaitaia (you wouldn't want it to be a long one), it took us nearly four hours to drive all the way up. We kept ourselves amused, however, but trying to guess the name of Craig & Suz's new baby boy - I still can't believe it wasn't Larry!

And though you would think there be good scenery along the way - there isn't. Even though you travel up a thin strip of land, the road someway bisects it perfectly so that you have little glimpse of sea until you make it to the Cape. All you do see is farmland, upon farmland, upon farmland. And noticeably very green farmland - no drought up here.

But the long journey was well worth it - Cape Reinga is a pretty special place. The coastline is a dramatic place, not least the meeting of the Pacific Ocean and the Tasman Sea. To opposing swells meet dramatically just off the cape, looking somewhat akin to a river rapid. Cape Reinga also plays an important part in Maori mythology - where the dead are meant to leap off on their way to the afterlife. It certainly could have engaged in some good marketing on the day we were there, as octogenarians were being dropped off by the bus load.

The return journey in the afternoon was much more enjoyable. First we stopped off down 90 Mile Beach for a picnic lunch. Heading back down along the eastern coastline, we drove up to the very picturesque Matai Bay for a swim in its horseshoe-shaped bay. This was followed up by stopping at the fabled fish and chips at Mangonui (including some sneaky oysters) - which were superb. When we finally got back to Russell, it was nearly a 12-hour round trip, a long day, but a good one.

That ended up being enough for us, as we decided to spend the last two days just hanging around Russell. There was a good swell out, and Tom and I made the most of it. Our days had settled into a comfortable rhythm of....sleep in, brunch and beer, a read of newspaper, a body surf, a couple of pints at the local pub (which were only £3.50 - $3.50!!), then dinner and a few more drinks.

It was with some reluctance that we packed up on Saturday morning, it was so relaxing just hanging out in Russell - where the fish and chip shop and the pizzeria are closed by 7pm every night. It is certainly the pick of the towns around the Bay of Islands, cut off from the mainland by a 10 minute ferry ride, it's not as tacky as Pahia or dull as Kerikeri. Even though we were only away for a week, it felt like it had been a month. You know you've had a good holiday when you are planning how to return the very next weekend.

You can see some holiday pics here.

1st Class Debut: SJ Gellatly

Earlier in the week Mike gave me a heads up that his younger bro, Steve, would be making his first class debut for Wellington against Auckland at Eden Park. Steve had already made his one-day debut for Wellington back in January, but first class cricket (four day cricket here in NZ) is a much greater achievement, if not recognised by most of the cricket heathens in New Zealand.

And that was certainly the same as I turned up at the pleasant Eden Park #2 ground to find that we were doubling the number of spectators - pretty dire when you consider this is the highest level of provincial cricket in NZ and also involved an international test cricketer (James Anderson, who Auckland had controversially acquired from the touring English team to play in the game).

It was the morning of Day 3 in the game and Wellington were around 200-2 after dismissing Auckland for 297 in the first innings. Steve was next in and chatting to him on the balcony showed him to be more than just a little bit nervous. So we left him to his nervous fidgeting and stretches and retired to the stands and waiting for him to make it out on to the middle. Of course, the batsman out there weren't playing ball and carried on from the day before to post a 250-run partnership and keep poor Steve waiting for well over a day for his chance out in the middle.

But it finally came, when some guy "Gal-lat-ly" was announced to the crease. Neverthess we surrounded the ground with the cacophony of our applause (well, my old man and I) as he made his way out there. It wasn't the best of starts, surviving a tough chance he gave to the wicket keeper when getting an edge to good ball from the spinner. But after that he looked nothing but solid, even dispatching James Anderson for a boundary or 2. His biggest threats was the new partner who joined him, also making his debut and doing his best to run Steve out. "Crook" was his name, and his calling was pretty crook, and ironically he eventually did run himself out.

Unfortunately, with Steve progressing nicely on 18 not out, I had to leave for the day to drop the old man at the airport. Murphy's Law prevailed of course, as it must have been about then that Steve lifted it a gear, and when Wellington declared their innings later that afternoon he was still not out on 67. A pretty awesome effort on your debut.

Expecting to be able to catch him later the next day, before I could even get down to Eden Park I found that Auckland had collapsed in their second innings and Wellington won by an innings and 95 runs. But Steve has been selected again and will playing against Otago down in Dunedin from Friday. So hopefully he goes as well again.

Good stuff Steve, obviously facing a young Possenniskie from his full length (well, as much as the back fence would allow) in the back yard paid off.

Ponsonby Cafe Files: Jafa

OK, so the Ponsonby Cafe Files didn't get off to a great start - well, it depends which way you look at it - with three visits to the superb Richmond Road Cafe in a row. However, on Saturday morning we drag ourselves somewhere else - Jafa Cafe. For Stu, and others persnickety about suburbs, Jafa isn't strictly in Ponsonby and is more West Lynn. However, it's still a short distance from our place and attracts the "Ponsonby-set".

Not only is the fare of Jafa Cafe of some repute, it is also infamous for being involved in a dispute over the 'Jafa' name, which will see them have to change it. So it was about time we went to see what all the fuss was about and trundle of there on Saturday morning with the old man and Jimmy in tow. First stop, the coffee. As at Richmond Rd Cafe, Allpress are the beans on brew, and once again is very good - a nice reward for an Ironman who tried to stay away from the coffee in the last throws of training. The menu wasn't the most varied, but Anna was able to indulge herself (and bore me) with her usual choice of Eggs Benedict, while I threw together some assortments from the grill, with Black Pudding again a feature. The organic eggs were quite delicious, and this Black Pudding was again nice and spicy and included chopped bacon for something different.

Overall, Jafa Cafe was pretty good, the only negative mark that the service was a little slow (though maybe we were all just very hungry). If Anna can avoid the clutches of Richmond Rd Cafe next weekend, hopefully we will have another new entry.

IronSam 2008

Pictures are up here.
And if you want to see some pictures of me caught unawares and not looking so sprightly, put my bib #408 in here to see the official photos.
You can also watch me finish here (click the "watch me finish" link and I am about a minute in).
If you have sky, TV coverage is going to be on these dates. And if you have a video recorder (as antiquated a concept as this is), I would love a copy.

Most of you know I did it now, and that I didn't manage to break 12 hours, I broke 11 hours instead!! I still find it hard to believe and it has put a surreal spin on the whole thing for me.

Friday night was full of nerves, but not about what would be required the next day, but more about the impending weather that was due to arrive. It was hard to believe at the time, as it was a beautiful night with a clear star-filled sky. The IronSam Support Crew also started to trickle in, first the family, then Stu and Steve from their climb up to the Ruapahu crater, and Tom and Rae a short time later. And after another meal of very simple pasta for me, I got to watch them munch down on what looked like tasty pizza and beer as I sipped from a water bottle. Some distraction was provided by wondering when Brad & Sharon would arrive. Earlier in the evening they informed us that they had taken the long way to Taupo - through Wanganui...they missed the right turn at Bulls - amateur mistake! They finally arrived at around 10pm and we sat up a little while longer before they all decided they were tired and went to bed - hey guys, I'm the one doing Ironman here! Finally went to bed at 11pm and in fact had a pretty good night's sleep...for me.

The alarm went off at 4.55am and quickly got up to have a peak outside. Much to my relief, there was no sign of either wind or rain. With heightened spirits, I had my quick breakfast of toast and headed down to the T1 at around 6am. I knew most other triathletes would have probably got there at least half-an-hour earlier than me - and it was pretty busy when I arrived - but I still remember the Tauranga Half Ironman in 2004 where I got there so early that I was practically the only one there and just had too much time on my hands. First stop was to get myself numbered (they write it on your arm and calf) and then pump up my tyres (always wise to deflate them the night before, as sometimes they pop if it is warm - which it was). Fortunately I also had Anna there to remind of the things I was forgetting in the heat of the moment. I also hadn't quite gotten rid of all of last night's dinner, so had to line up at the ever popular portaloos. Was a bit of a queue and it did take a while, but I believe this ended up being a good thing as I had little time to think about what was ahead of me.

With the wetsuit on, I eventually wandered down to the swim start and got into the water with about 10 minutes until the start. Plenty of time for a quick warm up and every triathlete's friend, the pre-race pee (that water around the start line can't be too good). With nearly 1200 people sitting in the water, it is a weird feeling waiting for the starting gun, especially with the effect of the dawn sky rising.

The gun goes off and you could just hear the crowd start cheering before you get into your work. The start was the usual ruck and maul, though I seemed to be getting off OK. I had positioned myself to the right-hand side, which was surprisingly quite roomy. Surprisingly, because the swim course is a dog-leg right, which was perfect for me with my swimming 'fade'. In fact, I hugged the buoys along the whole course and I don't think I would have swam one meter more than I had to. The water was nice and smooth and I found myself in lots of clean water, with just a few brushes with fellow competitors. In what seemed strange to me, there were lots of people around me kicking quite strongly from the start. A bit of a mystery to me, why kick all through the swim when you will want your legs for next 12-or-so hours of the day.

With the water so clear there were plenty of things to keep yourself amused with. I gave the thumbs up to some scuba-guy below us at the start and spotted plenty of golf balls and what looked like an old engine. At the turn around I was feeling good and really calm. Though this was disturbed somewhat when someone decided to perform a bit of kung fu to my head. It was quite a blow and for a second I was a little dazed. My biggest fear though was that the seal on my goggles had been broken, but thankfully it appeared not. I got back in my groove again for the homeward leg, and had the feeling I was going pretty well. With what must have been 500 metres to go, and still feeling really good, I actually decided to pick the pace up and kicked my way to the finish (to get blood flowing back to the legs for the bike). With one last wave to weird scuba-guy, I headed into the shore for the next stage.

Pulling myself out of the water I got quite the shock. I knew I had swum quite well - a really felt like I was gliding through the water - but I wasn't expecting to see 1:01 on the clock! And I wasn't the only one shocked, as I had to yell out to Anna that I was there - as she wasn't expecting me then either. Then came the tough 400m run to T1. Not only is that very long, but it also takes you up a set of stairs - you would think that the standard distances of an Ironman would be enough!

After the nearly 4 minutes it took to get to T1, someone handed me my transition bag and I headed in to get changed. Surrounded by 'helpers', it appeared that none were free to help me. So I had to try to get my wetsuit off myself. Struggling for a couple of minutes to do this, I ruefully looked at the guy across from me as a helper ripped his off in about 2 seconds. As others around me took off out of the transition tent as soon as their wetsuit was off (they had tri-suits on underneath), I took my time changing into my fresh bike pants, and with the weather forecast in mind, putting on my waterproof overshoes (and what a good decision that was). And with so much time on my hands already, I decided the make a comfort stop at the portaloos before jumping on the bike. In all, I took 12 minutes in transition, which is a pretty long time when the average is less than 8 minutes.

On to the bike and quickly down on the aero bars, I was surprised by how many people were took a while to get going and I passed in the first couple of kilometres. You quickly hit the hill out of Taupo on the ride, but I felt comfortable spinning up it. That was until my chain came off. It didn't take me long to put it back on, but it did leave me worried that it could be a problem over the rest of the ride - a worry that didn't eventuate.

The ride out to Reporoa heads north, and this was right into the strong wind that was picking up. Fortunately, the ride out to Reporoa is also slightly downhill, so this slightly countered the battle into the win. In this first leg of the ride, there were lots of riders bunched together as different riding abilities were sorted out. This made for a lot of nervous moments as the draft-busters rode up and down the course on their motorcycles. You are not meant to be within 5 metres of another rider, unless you are passing, and then you have 15 seconds to complete your pass. I had no interest in drafting, I wanted to do this Ironman on my own steam, but I was concerned that a passing manoeuvre would be mis-construed as drafting - whereby you get a 4 minute stand-down penalty, but more worryingly, get disqualified if pulled over twice. I needn't have anything to fear, but I remember tensing up every time I heard a motorcycle come up from behind.

Finally the bikes started to strew themselves along the course and the bike settled into an individual battle. There was some relief when close to the first turnaround I heard a "go Sammy" as I past a group of spectators on a side road - returning I confirmed it was Al from work and it was great to get some support at the far end of the course. Returning from Reporoa was great with that strong wind behind me now. I was working to my nutrition plan, was staying down in my aero bars and I felt good. I was even overtaking a few fellow competitors on their flash machines - I definitely felt like the poor kid in class with my old Giant, I was one of the few riders without a tri-specific bike and without disc-wheels.

Unfortunately, the good times were about to come to an end. Climbing back up the hill before returning into Taupo, the rain finally arrived. 10 minutes earlier I was really starting to sweat in the heat, but now I was soaked through by the heavy rain. Before leaving Taupo for the last return leg I picked up my Special Needs bag, filled with a couple of vegemite sandwiches I was really looking forward to - that savoury is delicious amongst all the sweetness. But that was the only fond memory of that second leg out to Reporoa.

With that rain and the wind getting stronger, it was a long slog out to the turnaround. For little while I even felt cold, and the quads were starting to get pretty sore. I also wasn't helped by my bike computer giving up the ghost once again, so from the 107km mark I no longer knew how fast I was going (I was averaging 31.5kph up to then), or more importantly for me, what my cadence was. This made it difficult to pace myself, which was pretty important on this second leg. It was quite easy to find yourself drifting off, only realising it when someone passed you. This led to some bizarre overtaking-retaking manoeuvres. Someone you had passed 30km previously would suddenly rip past you, or vice versa. My focus was to just get out to Reporoa again so that I could get that wind behind me again - even though there would still be around 45km left to ride, it felt like it would be the end of it.

It was a pretty lonely return to Taupo, coming up on few riders and heading back into the rain from which we had a short relief from up around Reporoa. Arriving at the last climb, I decided to take it a bit easier to save the legs for the run. I could see that I was going to do a pretty good time for the bike and I still had a 42km run in front of me.

Arriving into Taupo and T2, I was as much as 45 minutes ahead of where I thought I would be, and jumping off the bike I was surprised how solid my legs felt. T2 went quite smoothly, this time a helper was there to help me get out of my bike gears and into my running stuff. I took just a little over 4 minutes to get through transition, which isn't much more than the average, though the Pros rip through it in about 1 minute.

Heading out of T2, Brad yelled out to me and waved the small bottles of Jagermeister he had for me at the finish - but for now I had to make do with more energy drink. The run started with a cruel bridge over the road, which with the rain meant you had to be quite careful with when going down. After the relative solitary of the bike course, it was a real buzz to head out on the run with so many spectators lining the run course along the Taupo lakefront. And even though the run is the definitely the hardest leg of the Ironman, it is also the most memorable with all the crowds and cheers.

It was probably this buzz that led me to start very quickly on the run. Before I knew it, I had ran the first 5kms in 25 minutes, a pace I knew I couldn't keep up so I started to pull things back again. But I also began to realise that if I could keep up a decent pace, not only would I break that 12 hour barrier, that going under 11 hours would be very possible. This helped to keep me well occupied on the run, as every kilometre marker I recalculate my splits and what I had to do to go under that 11 hours.

The only thing that was really giving me concern was the state of my feet. Despite my overshoes keeping most of the rain off during the ride, my feet didn't take long to get wet in the run and it felt like the bottom of my foot was being severely rubbed. It wasn't until after the race and I took my shoes off that I found that the sole of my shoe and twisted to the side and it was that which was causing the discomfort! I also started to feel a bit of chaff coming on and realised that I had completely forgotten to apply some vaseline at T2. I asked for some running past one of the aid stations, but the old biddies with the vaseline were half asleep. I didn't want to stop to wait, so I just let it go. The chaffing seemed to subside a little after that, so I didn't bother with it again.

Taking my second and last pit stop of the day around the 10km mark, I turned around for the first time to head back into Taupo. I decided at this point to start on the flat coke. I had planned to only go for it on the second half of the marathon, but I could feel myself flagging a little and didn't want to leave it too late. It certainly turned out to be a good call, as heading back into Taupo was also heading back into that wind, and also climbing the nasty hill around the airport.

Heading back into Taupo also meant heading back into all the supporters. And it seems timely to mention my own group of supporters - Anna, Mum, Dad & my sisters, Brad & Sharon, Rae & Tom, and Stu & Steve who had returned from climbing Ngauruhoe that morning. I'm not going to be a complete sop and say I couldn't have done it without them. However, with all seriousness I don't think I would have gone under 11 hours without all their cheers and encouragement. They did a great job of going up and down the course to meet me at different places and often gave me a spur when I needed it. Though seeing them sitting back with wine or beers on the first leg was a bit rough!!

My only real tough point on the marathon came at about kilometre 27. I started to feel a bit odd and flushed. I think it might have just been a bit of a sugar and caffeine rush from the flat coke, as I seemed to come right again after a while. And by then I just had to make the turnaround for the last time and head back into the wind and the rain for the final 10km to the finish line. I kept focusing on my kilometre splits and what I needed to do to go under 11 hours. I was starting to feel pretty weary, but getting all the cheers kept me going through to the end. Getting closer, I even enjoyed a bit of joking banter with the crowd and made a point of thanking the volunteers that had stood out in the rain all day. I also noticed many of the athletes still heading out on their first lap of the run and thought about how late they would be going into the night.

Finally, reaching the finishing chute, I already knew I had a sub-11 hour time in the bag, so I just wanted to enjoy the finish. Some guy in my own age group sprinted past me, but I let him go as I wanted to cross the finish line by myself. I don't remember it at the time, but in the finishing video you can hear Mike Reilly ('the voice of Ironman') calling out "Sam...you are an Ironman".

Crossing the line, the support people are quickly there with a finishers towel to wrap around you, asking you if you feel alright. I felt OK, but still the old lady walked me over to get my finishers medal and into the marquee. Inside I grabbed myself a cup of chicken soup and sat down to wait for a massage. Now that I had stopped the legs were pretty shaky and the joints were tired from all the effort of the day. After the massage I had a quick bite to eat before heading out to my support crew who had been waiting for me outside.

We then headed back for a few celebratory drinks (including that Jagermeister) and a BBQ - all from the comfort of a chair for me. As it got darker outside and the wind stronger, it was difficult not to think that there were still people out there running - the last finisher was at 12.45am (unfortunately for them, outside the official cut-off at midnight).

For the record, my final times were:

Total = 10:54.27 (297th - of 1200; age group 62nd - of 180)
Swim = 1:01.37 (313rd; 62nd)
T1 = 11.21
Bike = 5:46.03 (341st; 73rd)
T2 = 4.13
Run = 3:51.12 (249th; 50th)

So bizarrely, my bike ended up being my comparatively weakest leg, and the run my strongest. When I probably would have said that it would have been the other way around before the race. Would never have thought I could run a sub-4 hour marathon at the end of an Ironman, so that was a real surprise. Despite the conditions being pretty tough, I think they probably also helped a little on the run, keepng you cool and reducing the importance of hydration.

My whole performance has put a bit of a surreal spin around it all. Going into it, it was meant to be all about the achievement. But as I just blew out all my expectations, that whole sense of achievement is a bit muddled. I'm still a bit stunned about it all. The question I get asked now is whether I will do it all again. We will just have to wait and see on that one. It was such a good event, and running the marathon with all that support such an amazing experience, I would love to feel that again. But my expectations would be completely different and there would be a whole new pressure on the day and in training. Whether I compete again or not, I will definitely be back again to enjoy the atmosphere of the day, even if it is just from the sidelines.

And how has the body recovered? It was certainly beaten up on the day. The muscles and joints were very sore and the legs were very stiff for the next few days. It even required a bit of walking backwards when I encountered a downhill or some stairs. The chaffing was very bad, all over the place - nipples, hips, and the unmentionables. But I don't think I was alone watching other competitors entering the water at the De Brett hot pools the next day. And my poor toes, one of them has gone all purple and resembles something that comes out door of an abattoir.

But it was all most definitely worth it.