ORN*: 15m

That’s minutes. Oh well. Little by little. Thursday I’ll do 30 min and then on Saturday the prescription is an hour.
Following the lead of the mighty GGtI in not being All Complaining All the Time (not that there’s anything wrong with that), here’s my list of 10 things that made this week a good one.
1. Noddie is totally the best in her swimming class – after 3 weeks, vindicating my decision to delay sending her until she was old enough to have appropriate motor co-ordination and social skills. Proud Mummy/bang my head moment: we go to the pool nearly every week, and nearly every week Noddie wants to float on her back - with her chin tucked right down on her chest. So nearly every week I suggest she might like to point her chin up at the ceiling – and nearly every week she bellows “NO!” in her implacably contrary way. In swimming class she is the only one who points her chin at the ceiling.
2. Damn but I like riding my bike! Last night I went out – coz my back is much better and the physio said I could! - and it was wild and woolly, and windy, and the rain spattering on my jacket made a cool sound, and my yellow glasses made everything look spectacularly eerie - and when I got home the heater was on and Noddie was teaching the Spousal Unit how to play the triangle.
3. I have quite a bit to do at work. This is good. Trust me, there are few things more soul-sapping than feeling pointless.
4. We are all completely in love with the dinosaur fairy lights that J brought home for Noddie’s room.
5. In spite of my pizza-and-wine fuelled pity party, a sensational and excessive Vietnamese lunch out with J, and a week of no exercise, I have maintained my weight. The downward crawl continues – is 3.5kg in 4 months some kind of record for slowness?
6. I actually like my new haircut
7. It only took about an hour to fix the mistake I made in the cardie I’m knitting for Noddie
8. My Bulldogs RULE!
9. It appears that the people at the church where Noddie has started Sunday school are nice and interesting enough to make up for the minister’s simplistic fundamentalist theology.
10. Tonight J is working late so Noddie and I are going to rug up and go for an Adventure Walk along the creek in the dark!

More anon, moondancers
*Obligatory Running News

Cranky pants

WARNING TO BLOKES: HIGH CHICK STUFF CONTENT!
Unusually, it is NOT your intrepid correspondent LBTEPA who is cranky pants. It is....errr.... how to put this?...my nether regions that are unpleasantly grumbly and PMS-y, and my lower back - while 200000% better than last week, thanks for asking! - is still a bit niggly. So I am a bloated barrel of achy, self-loathing jelly (for clearly, had I been a better person, i.e. more self-disciplined and harder-working, I would have lost more weight and got fitter and none of this would be happening. Please note the absence of the word rational from this description).
And yet, a strangely cheerful BBoA,S-LJ! Life is good. More anon, consumers of yummy crunchy things!

Silver Linings R Us

You are all the biggest DARLINGS who ever drew breath. This is for you. Or this, if you prefer. Up to you.
Now- this pesky sprain. It's mild and should be resolved in a week or so. Unfortunately I don't have a spare ten days - I was already so behind where I wanted to be in my training that it was time to say "enough!" I'm ok about it now. Really. I've even attempted to emulate the heroic Simlin, and given the leftover pizza to the dog. Not that Simlin gave pizza to his dog . But anyway (and aren't strong pain killers the best?) I'm fine. See? I did a list! Lists make everything ok!

BAD THINGS ABOUT DOING THE HALF RATHER THAN THE FULL MARATHON
I really reallly reeeaaalllly wanted to do it! Waaaahhhh!
Nowhere near such good bragging rights.
I feel stupid dragging the family 2000km to do something I could do in Shepparton (BTW no disrespect whatsoever to Shepparton - it's a lovely course)
Explaining why I'm not doing the full will be tiresome.
I'll have to wait until 2009 now as I have Other Plans for later this year.
No excuse to go mental at the expo :(

GOOD THINGS ABOUT DOING THE HALF RATHER THAN THE FULL MARATHON
21.1km is still a pretty long way.
The half-mara starts at 6.30 so I'll have finished before it gets too hot.
The Spousal Unit and Noddie won't have to hang around for hours and hours waiting for me.
I can run with ihatetoast, at least until she gets to full speed. Then I will watch admiringly as she zooms away.
I'll be properly prepared for this and for a full marathon when I do it.
I'll see the full marathon winners finish!
I can cheer on my CR friends doing the marathon.
I will enjoy the rest of the day - and the rest of our lovely holiday - much more if I'm not exhausted and footsore.
I still get bling!
More anon, rainbow-chasers.

50% off

SHOCK ANNOUNCEMENT: In a freak sock-picking-up accident*, LBTEPA has sprained her lumbo-sacral ligament (the doover connecting the spine and pelvis) and on physiotherapist's advice will not be running the Gold Coast Marathon in July. As LBTEPA's physio points out, the trouble with sacral instability is that you can only find out how dodgy it is by testing to destruction, as it were (note: persons whose hobbies do not include endurance sport are unlikely to do this) and then fixing it.
LBTEPA's team is considering what action to take against her unstable pelvis. An intensive strengthening campaign will commence as soon as possible. In the meantime, a programme of anti-inflammatories and ferocious sulking will be undertaken.
LBTEPA was understood to be bitterly disappointed, but in good spirits. Sources close to her have revealed her comment upon hearing of the marathon veto:
"Oh well, you still get bling for the half".
LBTEPA now intends to cry and eat too much pizza.

More anon, silver-lining finders!
*This is completely true.
**I just knew that shirt would come in handy one day.

Memory lane

Red snakeskin dancin' boots + tight jeans +


+
+










+





+









+ my favourite band from my roaring days,Weddings Parties Anything +

=

In like Flynn

*Squeals and does excited girly hand-flap*
There's cash on the barrel now. If it takes me six hours, then it takes me six hours.
*grins, a bit nervously*
As IronGeekGirl says, I may be slow, but I'm stubborn!
Now all I have to do is.....run. Easy*. There aren't even any lions.

More anon, rainbow-chasers!
*Cheerful LBTEPA, who is currently in charge of this blog, is clearly Out Of Her Mind. Oh well

No whingeing today

...so this will be a very short post! I have a rampaging chest infection including quantities of lurid phlegm (now everybody say ewwwwwwwwww)
I can't run, ride or even walk very far because I can't take a deep breath.
I'm going to the doctor this afternoon for the strongest antibiotics he has in his arsenal.
I WILL be better SOON.
I'm not giving up on the marathon yet.

More anon, snifflers!

A nice surprise

This post isn't all about Another Bloody Cold that my revolting germy spouse and offspring have foisted upon my poor hard done-by immune system, nor how angry I am with them for insisting on sharing their toxic emissions, nor how this may well be yet another sign from the universe that I am just not meant to do this marathon because I am so far behind my schedule it's a joke.
No no no no no
it's not.
Really.

Long long ago, in a blog I can't precisely recall, I saw a logo like this. Oooh, I said to myself, how cool! So I g00gled it, as you do, which led me to the gymskinz site. This site is run by the lovely Tav, and contains many t-shirts with See What a Hardcore Triathlete I Am, Loser slogans. There are also some funny ones (ie that appealed to my cranky old bat sense of humour), so I emailed the lovely Tav and tried to order a couple of the technical shirts. And tried. And tried. So much went wrong. Poor Tav. Poor me. It just didn't work. There was too much distance between us (it also had a lot to do with cafepre$$ refusing to recognise a non-US postcode). No amusing shirt, fascinatingly made of crab and prawn shells (true!) for LBTEPA.

The other day I got home from work to find an excitingly squishy parcel. In it was this! And this!Two fabulous, completely unexpected, completely free shirts, all the way from Canada, with a lovely note from the lovely Tav apologising for all the delays, which were not his fault. What a nice man!
I did my long run in one of them the other day and can heartily recommend their moisture-removing qualities and complete absence of chafing. They are beautifully soft and (so far) don't retain bad smells. Thanks Tav!
I'm going to have to get an Athena one now......

Relieved

I’m so glad I didn’t post yesterday and you should be too.
It would have been all OMG my calf is so niggly and sore, how can this be happening? Why oh why did I think I could step straight back into my marathon training? I am such an idiot. It’s not fair, I’ve wanted to do this for months and now it’s all screwed up, I knew I shouldn’t have blogged about it, everyone will think I’m a piker who gets stupid injuries, why did I enter that bike ride? Now I can’t do Melbourne if the Gold Coast doesn’t work out, maybe Hobart in January? But then I’ll be training for (Top Secret too-scary-to-even-mention Summer Plan) oh dear oh dear what if it hurts on tomorrow’s run? I don’t want to go but then if I don’t I can’t run on Saturday I think I’ll just eat something and maybe have a glass of wine oh great now you’ll be fat as well….
Stretch, roll on foam roller, take anti-inflammatories, worry.
Repeat.
Luckily FOR YOU I was boring even myself to tears and couldn’t bring myself to inflict my self-absorption on anyone else.
AND THEN!! halfway through this morning’s Run O’Bleating I realised my calf was feeling fine! Judging from the protests my glutes are sending me, my pesky pelvis probably switched itself off some time ago - it does that. Thanks Noddie! - and has just been made to switch back on again by my physio. Well I say to it, it’s time to get your arse into gear! (hahaha I am so funny)
Two comments on my last post really made me think. Lisa asked, don’t you ever take a break? It’s true, all this triathlon-marathon-bike ride carry-on might seem a bit over the top (not to you of course Wes, GG and SB) - it often does to me! But the thing is, this year I have time. Next year I’ll be back at uni and until 2013 life will be about juggling family and work and study and time and fatigue. This year it doesn’t matter if I’m too tired on a Sunday afternoon to absorb information or produce anything coherent. This year is my opportunity to go after big dreams that I don't really understand why I want so much. I just do. Which brings me to SB’s comment, on my writing that I couldn’t imagine why, or how, I would do these things.
Because they are there to do, and one step at a time.
Amen, brother.
More anon, feathered friends!

the walrus said

The time has come to Announce my Winter Plan.
I'm doing thison July 6th.
And this on October 19th.

At the moment I cannot imagine why. Or how.

Summer's end

RACE REPORT: GATORADE RACE 6
DISTANCE - 750/20/6
TIME 1:44
RATING – RELIEVED
This is a ‘splat’ (unedited) post.
It’s been a pretty long season, for me – four sprint and one Olympic distance triathlon, three ocean races ranging from 2-4km, all in three and a half months, with my thesis, Christmas, summer holidays and a birthday or three mixed in. I never really ‘lifted’ again after the Olympic distance, and then when my old friend the unstable pelvis started wanting attention again – all it had to do was ask, I’d have taken it out for a coffee or something, there was no need to hurt my poor calf for heaven’s sake! – it was all starting to seem too much.
I didn’t mention in previous posts that all I had to do was finish this race to take out the Athena series because I was ashamed that I had every intention of risking injury, and possibly blowing my Winter Project. It was all a tiring tangle in my head. I really want my WP to work out, but because of all the hoo-ha about getting the Athena category started, I think it’s important to fly the flag and show up to races. And I’d already paid. In addition, I’m still a bit angry about how it all unfolded, so if I could take out the series just by showing up then I was bloody going to. I’m a bling-ho and that’s all there is to it.
Anyway: tired, flat, sore and unenthusiastic, off I went. I used The List to pack so I didn’t forget my bike, anti-fog or nutrition. Nor my wetsuit, which was extremely helpful as it was stupidly cold – the clock on the silo on Punt Road read 8 degrees as I drove past. Do you sometimes think about something you are about to do and sigh at your own bloody-mindedness? *sigh*
The thing about having more body-fat than 95% of the people about you is that they all look much colder than you. Oooh it was hard to take off my shoes and socks to put them into my transition setup! My poor toes, brrr! Crisis #1 struck when I noticed I hadn’t replaced my pump after Noddie ‘helped’ me pump up my tyres the previous night. OK, take off the puncture kit. I flat, I walk. But then I noticed my tyres weren’t as high as they should be – dammit! Off we went to the bike shop marquee to use their floor pump. Crisis #2 – Muggins here had wheeled Minerva out without my helmet, and you can’t get into transition without a helmet! Don’t tell SB, but luckily an official who’d seen me go in earlier was good enough to let me past.
Being a shocking sticky-beak I checked the racks to see how many Athenas would be racing. Just three of us had fronted up, since my poor friend M has had anaemia and was resting – or rather, doing the mini-tri, her version of resting. Then it was (shudder) time to get suited up and down to the swim start. It’s never a good sign when the sand is so cold it makes your feet burn. The water wasn’t as cold as I expected, huzzah! - until I put my face in it – cryogenics, anyone? There was much chatting and gosh-aren’t-we-stupid/brave? among the lunatics who sat shivering in the water cos it was warmer than standing in the wind. Kathy the fast Athena (in the photo in the last post) was there; the poor darl has had a hip injury and wasn’t sure if she could finish the run. She told me after the race that she felt very strongly about the Athena category because she’d had lap-band surgery and knew exactly how hard it was for large women to get into exercise. Fingers crossed her hip recovers completely.
My swim was a disgrace. The tide was pretty far out so there was lots of wading/dolphining involved; it hurt to put my face in the water; I was consumed by a feeling of not-giving-a-rat’s-arse. Then I had to carve through the field, which was tiresome; eventually it occurred to me I wasn’t going to be at all happy with my time and should pull my finger out quicksticks. Wade wade run run puff puff get-this-bastard-wetsuit-OFF! sunnies-helmet-shoes and away we go!
The sun had come up but there was a stiff breeze and my stupid legs stupidly hurt so sooky la-la LBTEPA-evasion tactics had to be applied from the word go. We had three goes into the wind becuase the course was two long thin loops, first heading north from transition, then south back past it and then back again (if you follow me). I concentrated on not complaining, not caring if my legs hurt, and looking forward to the two long tailwind sections. And not thinking about the run! The run is for the run, all you have to do is ride, the run is for the run….. I kept seeing the technical officials and worrying they were going to ping me for something I had no idea about. I do try really hard to move over or drop back when someone passes, but so many people pass me! Pedal pedal pedal…ahhhhh lovely tailwind…thankyou marshall! drink some water eat a gel pedal pedal pedal stop whining just keep your legs going all you have to do is finish now you can walk it in if you flat pedal pedal pedal
T2 was slightly less shite than usual even though I put my socks on. I don't know why, but if I put them on in T1 they always end up wet. I knew I’d want something warm on my feet and I was right. Kathy’s bike wasn’t there (I didn’t know about her flat) so I was a bit concerned and hoped she’d be able to finish. The third woman never showed up at all, which was clever of her.
It wasn’t too cold and we were mostly sheltered from the wind - it was just that my legs had turned to concrete! Ah ha! thought I, you can’t fool me into giving up, I’ve been here before. Just keep going. Keep going. Gosh I’m slow. Why do I bother doing this when I’m so bad at it? STOP that! Head up. Lift your knees. Sing your endless silly song from Playschool that reminds you of Noddie and makes you laugh. Thank the marshals. Drink at the drink stops. Walk the ‘0’ minutes. You know what? This isn’t so bad!
To my relief, my calf was just feeling heavy and tired, not too sore. On and on I trundled. I could see the finish in the distance – it was time to gun it and run hard! Alas, my calf was having none of that - the muscle pulled so hard and painfully I almost stopped dead. Bastard! Don’t you do this to me now! Oh come on, just another 500 metres, that’s all…please? Well f#$% you mate, I’m running anyway and hoppity-skipped, limped and finally trundled my way to the finish.
The first aid tent bloke was lovely and taped some ice on my leg so I could walk around dripping and looking totally hardcore LOL.
I was very glad to see Kathy at the presentations – even with the flat tyre she was only two minutes behind me! We got talking about how intimidating the whole hard-bodied Orbea-riding tri scene could be; it was then she told me about her surgery and all the changes she’d made to her life. I was disgusted to hear that she had not got one single medal for any of her races even though she’d placed every time – not only had she never been on the podium, they’d never even posted her bling to her!! Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr! It was time for a quick lesson in ‘Pushy’, so I went up to the medal table and made sure the Athenas would be part of the presentations – and even then they gave Kathy third place instead of second! WTF? I also introduced her to the RD, a charming and capable person who I’m sure will sort it out. We did get a nice if slightly bewildered round of applause from the crowd (who are these fat slow chicks and why are they giving them stuff? Or is that my paranoia talking?). As series winner – I can’t get over how funny that is! – I got a bike chain cleaning kit and a $50 voucher to a bike shop, woot! I have sent a donation to the Butterfly Foundation.
I was so happy to get back into the warm car, and to find a parking place near where my friends were meeting up after the Run for the Kids, and to catch up, and have a beer, and to go home.

There is no sensible title for this post

Firstly - did you go to Bold's blog and get a link to the write2fight page?
It's not a pretty sight here at chez LBTEPA. We all have the lurgi to varying degrees, which means that Noddie (getting over it) is being allowed to behave like an absolute feral by the Spousal Unit (just getting it) who then does his nut because she is rampaging around while he wants to lie pathetically on the couch and watch endless annoying crap TV, while I (bravely struggling through, ahem) am grinding my back molars flat calming everything down after returning from the physio - who hurt me whilst thwarting the Return of the Unstable Pelvis (thanks Noddie! NOT!) and has introduced me to the happy world of foam rollers - and the supermarket.
However
since I took first place in Gatorade Race 6 (Athena category), owing to Kathy the fast chick having a flat tyre and it being so cold no-one else was stupid enough to show up
and hence
became the 2007 - 08 Gatorade Series Winner (Athena category) - it just shows that turning up is 90% of the battle, no? - I couldn't care less. Pass the echinacea and the bubbly! And don't ask me to take off the bling.

More anon, pothunters!

'cause it's not always all about me

Go to Bold's blog.
Then go to the site he has founded in memory of his late wife.
Then get one of these and put it in your blog. Using the energy of blogs to help fight cancer is A Very Good Thing, so just go and do it this very minute. Spit spot!

After you've done that, pop over and wish Jeanne good luck in her half-marathon on Saturday, and Kathryn all the best in the Run for the Kids on Sunday. Go on, off you go!

Geez I'm bossy. But it's better than whingeing about how my back is still sore and my calf is still niggly and now Noddie has given me her stupid bug so I feel crappy and I am going to race on Sunday if it kills me, don't you think?

More anon, starfish-flingers!

not the best fun ever

I’m still feeling a bit sore and sorry for myself today. Gosh it was beautiful down near the river near Mum’s place when I went out for my long run last Saturday morning, golden paddocks, shimmering wetlands, a nice breeze through the poplars…everything was superb apart from the fact that I couldn’t get my stupid calf to loosen up.... cue sinister music..... All of a sudden, just as I was about to turn for home..... BLAM! It was as though something had sunk its teeth into me, or stuck its talons into my calf and twisted and refused to let go. Ow ow ow oooooooooooooooh but it was painful, and try as I might I couldn’t get it to release. After a bit of creative cursing - not too much, as I was more shocked than furious - everything had been going along so nicely! - I took stock. It was still warm and sunny with a nice breeze, the paddocks were still golden etc, I had plenty of water and a couple of gels……it was just the 8k of deserted road, no phone and a gait restricted to a hobble that I had to deal with.

Hmmm, I thought…what would Wes do? So I thought myself some positive and uplifting thoughts and got started back. What would Kathryn and Katy do? I didn’t have anything fabulous to change into and couldn’t think of any pithy ways to sum up my predicament, but I did try and see the funny side, such as it was. What would Morsey do? Although it was hard with neither a dog nor a sense of humour (I think I dropped that in the grass beside the road), I kept on moving, trying to run – cos it was going to take a f#$% of a long time if I walked all the way! – and counted those minutes until it was time to walk. Mary Sunshine and SB lent me some of their unimaginably vast reservoirs of endurance and good temper.... just keep going, that’s what it’s all about……and Iron Wil and Iron Misty told me, hey, hurting and being scared and doubtful you can make it is just part of the fun, as long as you don’t let it stop you! Yes, they are kind of weird, but in a good way. Mostly, though, I tried to be like Jeanne. There’s no better friend when you’re moaning and bitching your way home to the icepack and drugs!Just opposite the bluff is where I turned around
Time went on, and so did the road, and the music in my headphones, and the horrid painful gripping in the back of my leg, and then I could see the last corner and the last hill and I was back and it was time to suck down ibuprofen and be Mummy and go to the races and out sailing and suck down more ibuprofen and ice myself with frozen beans because we had eaten all the peas the day before.
It’s been getting slowly better but I went to the physio yesterday because my back was hurting as well, and I DO NOT HAVE A BAD BACK. It turns out it’s all that pesky sacroiliac region faffing about, not doing its job and amusing itself referring pain out around its friends the hamstrings, hips and lower back. A bit of excruciating thumb-digging by the physio and some mildly pornographic stretches to do for a few days and I’ll apparently be good as gold. Just as well, since the last tri of the season is on Sunday and I am already working on Winter Project #1 (official announcement shortly).
More anon, hobblers!

Beans

My left calf is quite painful since the Long Run Of Doom a couple of days ago and I have discovered why people recommend using a bag of frozen peas to ice sore areas. Frozen beans are pointy.

Happy Easter

Easter Blessings to you!We're at Mum's for the long weekend. Take care, and enjoy those HCBs!

Or easter eggs, if you prefer (weirdo)More anon, oologists.

79 = 81

I am aware that this post makes me appear a complete half-back flanker, but there you go.....
So there I was, standing at the counter in the photo shop when my phone rang. It was the lovely and endlessly patient department secretary with my long-anticipated thesis mark. Congratulations! Your thesis mark was 79, which gives you an overall mark for fourth year of 81. Well done!
I was speechless. 79? Seventy-nine? You f#$% me around all year with supervisors buggering off and other supervisors giving away our subjects to their masters students so I had no hope of significant results and you take four months to sort out my ethics application so I have three months instead of seven to get twelve thousand half-decent words down, and you take three months to mark it, and you can't even choke out one more mark so I can have an HD? Spitting chips doesn't even begin to describe my reaction. Ropeable, livid? Pretty much spot on. Then I got all moany and poor me and it's not fair about how well I could have done had I had the aforementioned seven months. I didn't know what to think so I wandered about the shopping centre for a while, scowling horribly, and bought J a present. Luckily it's hot cross bun season - I only eat them in the two weeks before Easter otherwise I would be like the side of a house, I love them so - so some warm buttery goodness, and a couple of kind phone calls from my lovely lovely friends were just what it took to help me calm the heck down and cheer the heck up. HUGE mwah mwah mwah and hugs to M and A, you girls are the BEST! This isn't pretty, but I have to confess it didn't take me long to move from self-pity to self-congratulation - the official position on my fourth year thesis is now something along the lines of no subjects? No supervisor? Three months instead of seven? That the best you can do? Bring It On, baby - and I'll still get 79, so there! *blows raspberry*
So now what? The Spousal Unit - who has just been promoted at work - CONGRATULATIONS YOU BIG SPUNK!!! - and I have celebrated with Indian takeaway and bubbles. Ooooh I know- last of the high-steppers, that's us! I'll apply for entry into Masters in Clinical Psychology in October and find out in November where I'm going next year. I hope 81 is enough to get back into LaTrobe (plan A - just down the road, and with a very highly-regarded CBT-based program), cause it's all I've got. It'll certainly get me into RMIT (plan B, a little bit further down the road and also CBT-based but mostly child psych, eww).
So that's that. Now it's time to get off my lardy behind and out on my bike before I pick Noddie up from kinder. You have a lovely day :)
More anon, toilers!

Why Dreaming Big is Good For You

*Yawns*
Stretches, tries to remember what being a hard-arse early-rising tri-machine (ROFL) was like. Fails.
You know, it could easily have turned out quite differently. My highest duties are as wife and mother, and I am paid to go to work. I could have set my sights on the Olympic tri, and worked hard, and something could have come up that made it 'not the right time'. I would have had to suck it up, and think about the Next Plan.
But nothing came up. It was the right time. I did face the fears and do the work and it all worked out superbly on the day.
Now I feel taller. I smile all the time and walk with a certain inner strut. I own a Wonder Woman t-shirt and now I wear it. I've started working on my next Next Plan (of which more anon) and I already know I can do it if I keep working. This will almost certainly change - I don't think one success eradicates the bleat gene! - but just at the moment I can do anything, with awesome shoes and perfect lipstick.
That, my dear friends, is why you should Dream Big. You can't always pull it off, but when you do, it's the Best Feeling Evah!

Moving to non-messianic mode, we've had a lovely weekend. J and I went to a wedding on Saturday and Noddie had a sleepover at Nanny and Pa's place = Mummy and Daddy sleep in until 8.30! Last night we piled along to the park for an Easter picnic orgnaised by J's work. Great fun. I am SUPPOSED to hear my thesis mark from uni today but am not holding my breath. Hmph.

More anon, my treasures :)

LATE UPDATE: I have received my thesis mark and therefore my final Honours mark. I am in the peculiar position of feeing simultaneously extremely pleased and absolutely ropeable.

Race report: Bairnsdale Olympic distance

WARNING: THIS POST IS VERY VERY LONG.
IT CONTAINS MUCH SWEARING.
ALL SONGS ARE TO THE TUNE OF ‘ALLOUETTE’.

Just FYI: Nutrition Plan (all hail the mighty nutrition plan!)
5.30am - Muesli
7.30-8.00 Powerbar
T1 and T2: big slug of Gatorade
Bike: gel every 40 minutes (changed to 30 in 2nd loop to fit in with terrain). Complete bottle of water each loop.
Run: half bag of sports beans at first water station, rest if wanted. Spare gel in pocket.

You know the best way to halve your pre-race nerves? Get up AN HOUR LATER THAN YOU PLANNED! That way you only have half the time to stress out, and have to use some of that to rethink your Nutrition Plan, cause 5.30am muesli is so not going to work at 6.45. After a banana and a piece of raisin toast I sequed smoothly back to the original Plan. Phew! Seriously, I was freaked out. No time for even one cup of tea, nor, well, how can I put this? Let’s just say it was good the portaloo lines were short. Both times. My parents live about 500m from the start so Minerva and I coasted down the hill to transition in the quiet foggy morning. I had a couple of extra things to think about because it was a longer race, with hills: specifically, when to put my gloves on; puncture kit or not; and how to make sure I didn’t forget my T1 drinks. I ended up sticking the drink in my helmet and my gloves in my bento box; I went without the puncture kit because we had flash-o seatpost bike numbers and they didn’t both fit. I had to throw something into the lap of the tri gods and that was it. It was still quite dark and cloudy and I was feeling pretty lonely and – ok, ok, yes – a bit scared, ok, f#$%ing terrified. I sat propped against post to chew my suddenly-a-bit-difficult-to-swallow energy bar and watch for the family coming down the hill - if they made it to the start - I’d bolted out the door so fast to get to transition before it closed that we hadn’t worked anything out. How happy I was to see them! Kisses and cuddles all round were just the thing *beams in recollection*
True confession: before we set off to the start I spoke to the timing blokes and made them promise they wouldn’t pack up before I finished. Sad.
I’ve run the river track to the swim start many times, but it was so strange to be ambling along in my wetsuit and sandals. People were saying how cold the water was so I was pleasantly surprised when I climbed down the rocky embankment and slid in. Being in water always makes me feel peaceful and happy, so by the time it was our turn to go I’d Shut my buzzing neuroses The F#$% Up and was back inside my own head again at last. Whatever happened, I’d done all I could to prepare. It was showtime!
Swimming down a sluggish brown river under a pale sky and calm beautiful trees is on my ‘I hope they have this in heaven’ list.

I just motored along, long and strong, enjoying myself. When the bridge near the finish came in sight I started thinking about transition and what I would do…drink, sunnies, helmet, number, socks, shoes….. drink, sunnies, helmet, number, socks, shoes…..being whacked in the face made me really angry! It probably meant I was out and running faster than normal (not that you’d know)...drink, sunnies, helmet, number, socks, shoes and OFF WE GO!Being a bit familiar with the bike course helped me work out where I should put my gloves on. And don’t say ‘on your hands’, smartarse! Not the highway, not the roundabout, not the gravel. That left the flat bit near the church. Done. It was time to climb.
Huffing and puffing up a long grade like that makes me tired so I kept my breathing as slow and even as I could. *Sings: Just relax now, just relax now, just relax now, that’s a good girl. Again it was good I knew the course because it’s a bit deceitful. There are three shorter get-thee-into-bottom-gear-and-grind inclines after the first long straight one, but because I was expecting them they pissed me off instead of making me sad. *I’m a legend, I’m a F#$%ing legend, I’m a legend, riding up a hill. Don’t look at the top, just keep going. Don’t wobble, there are cars. Just keep going til the next reflector. Just keep going, that’s the way....
The last corner on the hill is so steep it almost makes you laugh in a ‘you must be f#$%ing joking’ way – it looks as though you’re ‘there’ at the highway turnoff, but then you have to get out of the saddle and attack a nasty little 100m rise before the swooping undulations of the next 8km. *I’m a legend, I’m a F#$%ing legend, I’m a legend, riding up a hill. Tell the marshal I’ll see him in an hour and off we go. I always try and thank race marshals, especially in a race like this where they are out there by themselves for ages waiting for the back-of-the-packers. It was also a gauge of how much I was struggling. If I was getting too stressed or too tired to forget common politeness, then the whole point of the day – to enjoy myself – was lost.
Only the first five elites lapped me which pleased me immensely! The last downhill into town is absolutely brilliant; a pity about the right-hand turn onto a main road at the bottom, oh well. Tip for young players: don’t make your Olympic distance the first time you open and scoff a foil pack of strawberry-banana chemical sludge on the fly. Two weeks ago on my ride to Whittlesea I thought practising gel-eating was a bit of a waste of time, but on race day by crikey I was pleased I had the knack. Zoom zoom zoom through the flash new estate, (thankyou marshal! See you in an hour!), not far to go into town. Only what the race director described as a ‘pinch hill’ and what I described as a ‘bitch pig (or was it pig bitch?) hill’to go. Out of my saddle again? F#$%ing f#%$ers! Whose idea was this? Wave at the Spousal Unit and Noddie and around we go again
No one was more surprised than I that I didn’t have to get off my bike halfway up the second climb and weep bitter tears. It seems the 2.5kg of missing lard and 380km of TITS (Time In The Saddle, you disgusting creatures!) since Christmas has made a difference. Another 20 minutes of sweating, swearing and baring my teeth*I’m a legend, I’m a F#$%ing legend, I’m a legend, riding up a hill. I could see a tiny red figure at the top, waving and cheering. My Mum was up there waiting for me! Thanks Mum! Not long after this the Tall Old Bloke (TOB) passed me for the first time so I knew I was last. I wasn’t, actually – there was another, even older bloke who had mechanical trouble, of whose existence I was unaware. TOB was on a very nice looking bike but it didn’t stop him getting lost twice! He was obviously faster at 68 than I will ever be, but I don’t think it’s too harsh to point out that that obeying the marshals – or even noticing the marshals – is an essential race skill. The pinch/pigbitch #$%^#$% hill came around again, as they do, but I was fired up now and swore at it – stick to what you’re good at, no? – until I was on the flat again. Time to get my gloves off and think about T2.
This was the time I felt worst about being so slow. People were running to the finish line; even faster people were obviously waiting for us to start the run so they could get their stuff. The marshals and officials looked sorry for me. F#$% ‘em. They took my money. They could WAIT. I had checked out the course so I knew ‘that awful hill’ was actually a set of steep stairs - an extra walk break! – so I wasn’t scared, especially since someone had swapped my legs for some that felt strong and co-ordinated. Yay! That morning Noddie had insisted she was going to run with me to 'help me' (now everyone say ‘awwwwww’). As I passed her I could see that the Spousal Unit had tried to get her to run with me, towards him, but that she didn’t quite understand and was just standing still. This whole day was about all of us, not just me, so I went back and got her. Even now I get blinky thinking about her little face lighting up as she took my hand and we ran together to Daddy for sweaty kisses and hugs. Off up the road I went. I’m a legend, I’m a F#$%ing legend, I’m a legend, running up the hill. Nine minutes run, one minute walk. Whose legs were these? I hoped they’d let me keep them. It was getting a bit warm as TOB caught up to me (again) just as we reached the stairs. He was a lot more cheerful about getting repeatedly lost than I would have been! On we trotted. I’m a legend, I’m a F#$%ing legend, I’m a legend, running all the way. We were both a bit upset to find that the water stations were not every 2km as we had been led to believe. It might not have made much difference to the fast people but when you’re still running at noon there’s a big difference between water at 2,4,6 and 8km and 2,5,8 and 9! It seemed to affect TOB more than it did me, probably thanks to the two whole bottles on the bike. Thankyou Nutrition Plan! All hail the mighty Nutrition Plan! Where’s our water, where’s our f#$%ing water, where’s our water, you f#$%ing p#$%s? I tried not to sing that too often because I was mostly in a pretty good mood, running my intervals and singing to myself about what a legend I was. 5km to go! I can do 5km at 5am with a hangover! I am so finishing this bastard, yes I am! The run course was very pretty and mostly along trails, such a treat for my footpath-hammered feet. By the end of the shadeless stretch along the river bank, though, I was pretty angry watching poor TOB up ahead of me trying to run a bit and then having to walk. Especially since there had been a drink station set up at the swim start, which they’d obviously packed up. Where’s our water, where’s our f#$%ing water, where's our water you f#$%ing p#$%s? The last 2km of the run would have broken my heart if I hadn't been expecting it. They ran us past the finish line and up the steep-as-the-stairs track to the road past my parents’ house, then around the block to the finish. Transition was mostly empty and TOB had stopped at the 8km drink station and seemed to have given up (although he did finish) but I was really focused doing all my darling family proud by finishing strongly. When a man at the 9km drink station commented that I was ‘doing it hard’ I snapped, no, mate, I’m doing it slow, and I kept running. Past the cow paddocks, up the nowhere-as-big-as-the-hill-near-my-house-that-I’ve-run-up- three-times-a-week-for-the-last-month, over the top – hi Mum! Thanks for running with me! It really did help! You ROCK! - around the corner and down the hill to the chute and I was finished. All I had to do then was walk back up the hill again (nooooo!), eat fish and chips (my wonderful Sherpas' richly-deserved favourite lunch) , and smile at how blessed I am.I'm still smiling.

NOTE: When I emailed the RD about the water he acknowledged that they had stuffed up and was very apologetic.

Through the wall*

167 232 LBTEPA Olympic F 40-44 3 S 25:52 T1 02:16.7 B 1:49:33.2 T2 02:09.6 R 1:18:33.4 3:38:25.7

Somehow I must always remember how good this feels.There’s a permanent FIGJAM grin on my face and I feel lighter than air – I did it!
I did all the work – day after day I went through that too-busy too-tired wall that was really called your dreams aren’t worth chasing after. I did all the planning and scheduling and fitting-in-with-the-family and one-less-piece-of-pizza. I gave the finger to the fear and the shame of being too fat and too slow and the you don’t belong here, everyone will laugh at you thoughts. After sitting through the carbo dinner with all those 43 minute-10km single-digit body-fat triathlon machines I wanted to cry, but I went home and packed my race bag and checked my elastic laces and made sure everything was ready. Next morning I went down and set up my stuff and I really wanted to run away, but I walked to the start through that wall of body image issues THAT WERE ALL IN MY HEAD and I started to swim. And I NAILED my nutrition plan - all hail the mighty Nutrition Plan! -and I kept on going and going and going until it was time to stop. Just the way I'd imagined.

I did it.
I did it.
Unbelievable.

*grin*

More anon, comrades. Race report on its way.
*I know my good friend Iron Wil won't mind me pinching her tagline.