Kangaroo hoppet 2009: Wet, windy and abbreviated

We very nearly didn't make it to this year's Kangaroo hoppet (Dad lost his keys and had locked the spare inside the car - official VW line was that the only way to get in was to smash a window! Luckily we were able to organise a locksmith to come from Geelong at 7 pm and he had the door open after 15 minutes) and to be honest, it wouldn't have been too much of a disappointment after the weather today!

Even on Friday as we drove into Mt Beauty, the race wasn't looking too healthy. Despite a very promising start to the season, the snow just hasn't fallen and they had decided to shorten the course. I hadn't come all this way to just do 14k, so I paid $30 to upgrade to the full Kangaroo Hoppet marathon, which at the time was to be 32k, though in the end it only amounted to 25k.

The lady at the registration office tried to dissuade me, saying it wasn't worth it considering the weather was going to be awful. I brushed off her concerns 'It's gloriously sunny right now and the last three years have been the same. The Bureau (of Meteorology) must have it wrong!' She rolled her eyes and gave me a new bib, muttering about the supreme overconfidence of youth:P

Sure enough, I woke up this morning to the sound of rain drumming down on the roof of our lodge. If it had only been two degrees colder, it would've been snow, but instead it was miserable weather that would melt all the snow away:(

I ate a large breakfast (still a bit too large, but I think I'm getting better at pre-race nutrition) and skiied down to the Nordic bowl with dad. It was dry at the start of the race, but I was taking no chances and kept my warm and waterproof jacket on. It was a wise decision.

The snow was soft, very soft. For the first three km, there was no room to move or pass people because every little hill acted as a bottle neck. People were tripping over all over the place, and I went down briefly at one stage when a bloke trying to pass stuck his ski tip on top of mine (grr). Didn't cost me much time though and I just focused on going with the flow and not getting trampled in the process.

After about five km, the field had thinned out somewhat and I upped the intensity level, trying to catch up to a friend who'd snuck past at the start. It soon became clear that the lack of ski specific training I'd done was going to cost me. With every stroke I was throwing wasted kilos of inefficiency around, and the soft snow made for very hard work. My calves began to throb and I lost focus, letting quite a few people go past me.

It was only when a woman with quite a high number and a beautiful technique overtook me that I forced myself into action. I stuck behind her, trying my best to mimic her effortless skating motion. The three NoDoz tablets I'd taken seemed to kick in at that point too, and my calves stopped protesting at the indignities they were being subjected to. More from brute force than anything else, I managed to claw back a few places as we hit a prolonged uphill stretch. I was basically running up - the snow was too soft and the trail too narrow to skate properly.

Then it was downhill for a few km and I tucked into an aero crouch, stacking momentarily when I hit an unexpected mogul that was obscured by the fog, but somehow managing to roll right back onto my feet and keep going.

As we went past the finish area for the first time, I started feeling really good in spite of the morale destroying rain that had started up. My technique was returning to me bit by bit, and the hill work that I'd done started to pay off as I passed a stack of old guys on the uphills. It was almost pleasant as we skiied along the aqueduct, protected from the wind by the fir trees. I caught up to two guys in skin suits who were setting a good pace and tried to stay with them, conscious that a windbreak would be mighty handy when we hit the swirling, windy Sun valley for the second time.

Visibility was awful as we emerged from the trees. It was very disconcerting when you'd go from cruising along in the tracks to slowing down suddenly and inexplicably, the fog completely disguising the hill that had reared its ugly head in front of you. I was really looking forward to finishing and had my hopes dashed by many a false turnaround.

Eventually we hit the downhill section that marked the furthest point of the loop and having noticed that I was fading, I locked on to a woman who had just passed me and did my best to haul her back in. I got her on one of the last uphills of the race and sensing the end of the discomfort was near, I kicked it up another notch and managed to get past a few more bedraggled competitors before crossing the line feeling very relieved, but also quite exhilarated.

Dad had just finished too, and after exchanging a quick greeting with the friend who'd gone past early in the race and my old ski coach from Melbourne high, we headed back to the lodge, far too cold and wet to stay around for the winner's ceremony.

My finish time was 1:34:xx and while I can't vouch for the distance, having forgotten to start my garmin at the start of the race, that would be a decent Birkebeiner PB (1:19ish) if the 25k pace was extrapolated back over 21.1k. Official results come out tomorrow. I'll be interested to see what place I ended up with.

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Took it very easy this week leading up to the race. The balls of my feet were a bit sore after last Sunday's 25k, so I didn't run at all after Monday's painful efforts. I was a little concerned about a possible metatarsal stressie, but it's much better now and I'm pretty sure I can trace it back to wearing my pair of massively overbuilt Loco running shoes (I do not recommend this company) for my Sunday night recovery run.

Next week will be another relatively easy one. I'm aiming for around 100k with proper workouts Monday to Wednesday and then a few easy days to taper for the Aths vic half on Sunday where I hope to break 80 minutes. A long, easy ride on Sunday would be nice afterwards I think, study load permitting.

Ride to Kinglake and May stats

Rode up to Kinglake with my friend Jono yesterday. I love it up there, great hill training and not much traffic. It was bloody freezing when we set out, but once we got above the fog, the sun came out and it was brilliant:) We had two bakery stops at the Kinglake bakery and at La Panella, a vegan bakery in Preston. Mushroom pie, two donuts, half a sausage roll, coffee scroll, chocolate muffin = yum:D Good 142km hitout.

Stats for May:
run: 261km (6:03/k avg) - injury kept total down
ride: 1514km
cross trainer: 7:39
Total time spent training: 108hrs

Pretty decent. More training than previous months and I'm definitely starting to feel fitter both on the bike and on the run. Leg's still bugging me though so I'm probably going to stick to the cross trainer til Friday. I'm going up to Dinner plain for the long weekend with my family, so if we're lucky we'll get some cross country skiing in:D

Up to 150 pushups per day this week. I did a 50 rep set last week:)

A long ride and a long report to match

The idea had been brewing in my head all week. After doing 310k over the previous weekend and feeling absolutely fine, I decided I wanted to push the boundaries a bit. A 250k would've been a step up, but I'd done more than that on the day of the Around the Bay ride last year. Even 300k didn't quite hit the sweet spot. It's quite a symmetrical number, but not as nice as 200 miles. So that was it: a double century would be the goal.

To get in that kind of mileage at the slow speed I'm capable of (I was anticipating averaging 20kph), daylight hours alone would be insufficient. I decided to start early in the morning rather than keep riding into the night. The roads are much more docile at 3am than at 8pm in my experience. I was originally planning on pulling an all-nighter, going to a friend's 21st and then starting riding when the party exhausted itself. An unexpected shift at work that meant I wouldn't have been able to fit my run in (choosing exercise over catching up with friends - uh oh addicted), so I went for the more sensible option of getting a few hours sleep and then heading off at 2am.

The alarm went off at 1.55 and I groggily arose, pulled on my running kit and did a slow 7km, the highlight of which was being screamed at by an incomprehensible (probably drunk) motorist. A large breakfast followed and then I crept out of the house, trying not to wake anyone up. Just as the garage door went down, I realised that my riding shoes were still inside and I had no keys with me! Luckily my dog didn't wake everyone up as I crept back in through the laundry door.

The roads were very quiet on the way to the city. It was quite nice. I rode on the bike path til Yarra Boulevard and started doing laps of the 6km stretch up to Melbourne Girls College. It was a nice temperature even at that early hour of the morning, but quite windy, so that coupled with the sleep deprivation made for very slow riding. I wasn't doing much better than 20kph and about an hour in felt like giving up already. My neck was incredibly sore due to the crappy fit of the bike (handlebars pointing down made me stretch too far) and I just felt like getting off the bike, lying down on the road and going to sleep.

It was pretty rough and after toughing it out for 5k, I pulled out the silver foil in my jersey pocket and dropped a NoDoz (100mg of caffeine). It took at least 20 minutes to kick in, but for about half an hour I felt good and the pace dramatically increased. It helped that I'd started practising an oral presentation I was to give the next Wednesday out loud to help alleviate the boredom of doing so many laps:P. After going through it at least four times, (this included being overheard talking to myself by a tradie walking to the freeway renovations on the yarra), I ran out of steam again. Only two more NoDoz tablets left, but I figured there was no point rationing them if I was feeling this crap. This time, the effect was almost immediate and I had no more issues with sleepiness for the rest of the day.

So, with my mojo back and my neck starting to feel a bit better, I knocked out 80km around Yarra Boulevard before it got light. The rising sun was just beautiful. I hadn't witnessed a sunrise in quite a while and this one was a rather special reminder of how nice they can be. A friend had said he was going to be riding down Beach Rd at 8 with the melbourne uni squad, so I patrolled the stretch of bike path towards the city for an hour hoping to run into him. No luck (I think he wussed out and took the train:P), so I rode into the city by myself and got onto Beach Rd.

Still hoping to run into a bunch of Melb uni riders, I slammed it down Beaconsfield parade. Soon I was really moving and even though I'd basically given up on finding my friend, there was no holding back now: it was time for the AP challenge!

The AP Challenge:
The AP (Aggressive Prick) challenge arises from the overcompetitive personality of yours truly, who cannot stand to be passed by anyone when he's actually trying. The goal is to make it from Port Melbourne to Mordialloc (approximately 25km) without anyone getting in front.

The challenge got off to a rocky start when a guy on a single speed (!) passed me when I was going 35kph uphill. Luckily his attempt to spin down the hill was no match for my big gears and 2k at 50kph saw him vanish in my non-existent rear vision mirror. I was on my own for a while and was starting to think this would be a very easy challenge to achieve when I started to hear the fearsome whirr of a campag freewheel behind me.

I refused to look around - that would've been a sign of weakness - and pushed even harder. It seemed like I'd dropped him going up another hill, but he made it up on the downhill and at the bottom of the most dreaded hill on Beach rd, we were neck and neck. I really went for it and found myself having to get out of the saddle to keep going. Halfway up I couldn't take it anymore and my adversary, a guy in his late forties with formidable calves, glided past, offering a conciliatory 'Good work mate'. I puffed and panted and with great difficulty managed to get onto his wheel.

Ah, so this is how he did it. Shielded from the wind by my opponent's bird like frame, it was a lot easier going. I bode my time, saving my energy for the final sprint. The advantage was still on my side, for he was yet to realise that we were actually racing and nor did he know where the finish line was:P Two other guys joined us, creating a bit of a pace line that constantly changed position. A guy on a nice tri-bike led the way, dragging us along at 40kph. I was feeling almost recovered now, and when our leader showed a sign of weakness, flagging three-quarters of the way up a hill, I pounced. There were 2km left til the finish line at the Tour de Cafe and I gave it everything I had, absolutely wrecking myself in the process. My heart was beating out of my chest and my vision began to fade, finer details obscured by lurid flashing lights. ... Too close now! ... I could see the cafe just ahead and to my satisfaction the heavy breathing behind me began to drop back... Made it! Victory was mine! Pulling into the carpark, I nearly collapsed, totally spent. The other riders went past, two smiled and congratulated me, but the guy on the tri bike just glared:P

Probably the best part of the AP challenge is the knowledge that by being a complete arsehole and enticing other riders to match my suicidal pace, I'm completely wrecking their workouts (and my own as well, but oh well:P). After I'd recovered a bit and got back on the road, I watched with equal parts glee and sympathy as the tri-guy fell off a 45kph pace line looking like he had nothing left.

One set of traffic lights later, I met the same fate. It was a classic case of hitting the wall. The 25k to Mordialloc was obviously done purely on glycogen and after 5.5 hrs of riding, I was already close to empty when I started the APC. I struggled on to Frankston and then sprawled down in front of a real estate agent with as much dignity as a wet sponge. Several children jumped over my legs while I tucked into some avocado, bean dip and tomato sandwiches followed by a banana and two energy bars. Mmmm:)

Thus rested and refueled, I set off again, considerably more slowly, with no inclination at all to challenge cyclists who went past me. Slow and steady was my motto and I made it up Mt Eliza and Mt Martha without too much strain. I was in quite a bit of discomfort with my neck pain not showing any sign of disappearing and just concentrated on getting to Sorrento one km at a time. It was tough, especially when I realised that Sorrento and back would be 20k short of a double century, so I'd either have to add a dog leg out to Portsea or do a few more laps of Yarra Boulevard. The thought of getting even further away from the realms of easy public-transport bail-out options was not an attractive option, so I pushed the extra km to the back of my mind and stopped at Sorrento.

I was feeling somewhat vulnerable away from the train lines due to the fact that the pump I was carrying was pretty rubbish, so I wasn't sure that I'd be able to reinflate my spare tube if I got a flat. The realisation of how many favours I'd have to repay if I had to resort to calling my dad to come pick me up (at least an hour's drive) was quite imposing! Puncture free for now at least, I had a second lunch (at the proper time) under the shade of an oak tree by the beach. It had been quite a warm day by the standards of a Melbourne Autumn with the sun out in full force the whole time I'd been riding on Beach rd/Nepean highway. Looking out across the bay now though, the sun was covered by cloud and I was starting to think it might rain. Anxious to avoid such a fate, I hopped back on the bike and pointed my wheel back towards Melbourne.

Even the relatively brief (~10 minutes) lunch stop was enough to cause my knees to complain loudly. I'd done 230k by that stage and it was obviously a bit further than my knees were used to. So once again, the pace was slow and looking down at the speedo, I was mentally adding a few hours to my projected finish time. Thus occupied, I almost didn't notice when another cyclist went past me. I hadn't seen many around and because he seemed to be going a decent pace, I pushed a little and got onto his wheel. After drafting off him for a while, I struck up a conversation at the next set of traffic lights and he turned out to be a terrific bloke. For 20km, I was treated to tales of snakes being decapitated by mountain bike wheels; the highs and lows of the Port Macquarie Ironman; advice on road tyres and even a few swimming tips:D He seemed to have done everything including a Sydney to Melbourne tour by coast in ten days. Seeing as I'm doing a similar tour in reverse with five friends in July, I was very interested to hear what he had to say. It was a big letdown when he had to turn off at Dromana.

Still, I was back in the zone now and kept going at a decent speed..at least until Mount Martha. I'd never ridden back from Sorrento before and I can tell you it's a lot harder going back than it is going out. I was going a snail's pace up that hill! It seemed to go on forever! Still it meant I was almost back at Frankston and the fear of having a mechanical incident and having to make the 'call of shame' lessened significantly.

I'd done about 250k by that point and the double century was now feeling very achievable. I'd ridden back from Frankston so many times before that it was no real trial to do it one more time. I was feeling so relaxed that I didn't even think about doing the AP challenge on the way back from Mordialloc.. that is until this rather overweight man with rolls of back fat exposed underneath his billowing XL t-shirt overtook me riding no hands! A father and his young son I didn't mind so much, but this guy was just too much! Ignoring my protesting knees, I kicked it up a notch and left both the father-son duo and the fat guy behind. When a stupid woman in a car greatly annoyed me by yelling out 'there's a bike path!' just as they sped off from the lights, I kicked it up even higher in the futile hope of voicing my discontent at them at the next set of lights. In my frenzy, I went past two pretty fit guys doing 40kph and for a while thought I might even hold them off, but when they dropped me at the top of a hill, I gave up and went back to relaxed mode..while keeping an eye out to make sure the fat dude didn't catch me again:P

With all that unanticipated speed behind me, I got back to Melbourne well before schedule at 4:45. Really needing a break, I called my mum to see whether it would be worth riding out to Footscray where she and quite a few members of my extended family were celebrating my cousin's birthday. After working out that by the time I got to Footscray, everyone would've been leaving, I elected instead to pass on my birthday greetings over the phone.

I got back to Yarra boulevard with 28km to go. That meant I'd only need to do 3 laps of the 6k course, which sounded pretty achievable. I decided to finish off the last of my food first though and scoffed down two energy bars and a banana. It was a bad idea. My stomach began to churn immediately and after I had a quick drink of water halfway through my first lap, the vomitting started. It was a classic case of exercise-induced digestive system shutdown. My stomach simply couldn't process the volume of food that I'd put in. If I'd done the sensible thing and stopped riding, the blood being routed to my legs could've gone back to my stomach and things probably would've sorted themselves out within ten minutes. But it was getting dark, and despite the vomitting, I was still feeling pretty good. So I kept going, leaning over my shoulder every 45 seconds or so to unleash a very watery dose of banana and apple onto the road, trying my best not to splash any runners using the trail next to the road in the process.

It was not a pleasant experience as you might imagine and the temptation was very strong to forget about the 2.5 laps remaining and just ride home. But to finish with 194 miles on the odometer would've been a huge letdown and I'd ridden home before in the same state (drank too much water after a hard run), so I gutted it out.

Somehow finishing like that seemed more satisfying than finishing really good. The goal of this ride was to reach my limits and I feel like I kind of did. The vomiting was probably avoidable. I didn't need to eat those two energy bars or drink that water and won't make that mistake again. I wouldn't want to do a ride any longer than that though. It was tough and it sure takes a lot of time out of the day. I think the focus for me now is to increase my average speed. In the fifteen hours I spent riding, I could've done 500km if I were really fit! That'll be my next target I think:P

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I pulled up really well from the ride. I wasn't sore at all the next day and did my usual 50k of cycling to and from uni and work as well as two 5k runs (which were quite slow). On Tuesday I was feeling fantastic and actually did myself a bit of damage do to my overenthusiasm. I went for a run in the evening and felt amazing - worked down to 3:30/k without any effort whatsoever. Seeing how well I was doing, I thought I'd test out my leg and do a few striders on the cricket oval. Result: I pulled the same tendon I'd buggered up only a week and a bit ago.

It's not as bad as the first time, but I had to cut my run short on Thursday morning and haven't been out since. I've been icing pretty heavily and massaging with anti-inflammatories and it's definitely much better today, but I'm pretty sure this is going to rule out a proper tilt at my 10k PB at Sandown racecourse tomorrow. I'm still going to go and hopefully run the whole distance, but I'm definitely not going to be doing any desperate dashes to the finish line (my favourite part of racing):(

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I'm finally getting my mountain bike back tomorrow:D (I hope anyway!) After the bike shop (Ashburton cycles - not highly recommended) stuffed around for seven weeks, too lazy to send my forks back to RockShox to be repaired (suspension wasn't locking out anymore) and telling me it was going to be more expensive each time I asked, I eventually gave up and told them to just put some rigid forks on it. Means I won't be getting out to the Lysterfield trails any time soon, but at least it'll be ready for touring/commuting:) Can't wait to put my stuff in panniers instead of cramming it all into my backpack!

Getting through

So after missing two workouts worth 16km due to two late nights at the comedy festival (totally worth it), I've almost caught up. I had originally resolved to not be a stupid mileage-chaser and call it a rest week, but a good night's sleep left me feeling like it wouldn't be too hard to manage it.

It's been pretty tough, but I'm actually feeling pretty good at the moment. I was a bit scared of the 18/19k days I had to do, but once I actually started running, I had no difficulty at all making up the extra miles. It feels almost like I've made it to a new level.

The breakthrough came on Thursday. After grinding out a tough 8k in the morning, I was feeling really, really sore. Come evening, my quads felt like someone had been going at them with a large stick, but I managed to force myself to get out for an easy 10k and was pleasantly surprised that although I was very sore, I was running really well and naturally picked up the pace the whole way, finishing (in 51 minutes - fast for me) with plenty left in the tank. I went to bed that night with my legs aching so much I couldn't get to sleep for a while, but when I woke up on Friday I was completely fine: no soreness at all! I felt really great and had a good workout on the treadmill that night, involving a 10.5k progression run up to 3:24/k.

All up I've done 84k so far this week, with 72k of that in the last 4 days (18k per day average, eek). It's definitely too much and I've been feeling a few niggles in my back and my shins, but I'm confident I can still get through tomorrow and rack up 110k for the week. My dad and I are driving out to Templestowe in the morning for a Vic Road Runners event: I'm doing the HM and he's doing 10k. I'm predicting a good race for him: he actually outran me during the morning run on Friday. I was hanging on for dear life while he ran unsustainable 5:00 kms (his 10k PB is 54 minutes or something:P) and then left me for dead at the final sprint! (I could've caught him of course, but it would've cost me and I think it helped his ego:P). This came after my little brother beat me up the hill up to our house on Wednesday night haha:P I wasn't holding back then either (21 hill reps Wednesday morning might've had something to do with it though:P)! He's got a bit of speed I think and managed 6k easy without any real training for two weeks prior.

I'm really not concerned with what time I'll get. I know I'm not going to get a PB and 21.1k is uncharted territory for me at the moment, so I'll be happy with anything under 2hrs. The plan is to start out at the back of the pack and gradually move up, hopefully doing the last 5k in under 20 minutes, but that might be asking a bit much considering it's probably going to be windy and rainy!

In other news, I think I might be getting low in iron again. Had a bit of an orthostatic hypotension incident (where the blood rushes to your head after standing up and you feel very dizzy, unsteady and go almost completely blind for about 10 seconds) today, which used to happen all the time back in year 12 when I first went vegan and started running. I started thinking about it and realised that this fatigue that has been assailing me for the last two months has probably not just been because of my high training load. Realistically, I shouldn't be so destroyed by a very gentle 5k run in the morning and a 6k ride to uni that I'm falling asleep in my (very interesting) lectures. It's got to the point where I'm having to drink 5 or 6 cups of coffee just to be productive at work. I can still manage my training fine, after all I'm very used to exercising through extreme fatigue now, but any mental activity that requires fine concentration is very tough for me right now. It's quite lucky that I have a very light assessment regime this semester because I'm really struggling when it comes to writing essays and the like. When I think back to the days when I used to spend six or seven hours completely immersed in writing a computer program, so oblivious to the outside world that I'd forget to eat, it makes me quite sad to be in this state.

I'm going to schedule a doctor's appointment ASAP and in the mean time I'll be taking my iron supplements daily. I'd been phasing them out a bit because in my last blood test, my serum ferretin (read iron) levels were at 70 mg/mL (or whatever the units are), which is quite good but you don't want it to get too high because iron is toxic at high concentrations. (I've read that it starts to affect your running when you get below 30 and after my disastrous first stint at the melbourne HM, mine were 20.) Obviously only taking them once or twice a week isn't enough for me. Although I don't eat a fantastic diet (not really a huge fan of green vegetables), I think I'd be fine if I weren't running so much. Each time your foot hits the ground, you're destroying red blood cells, and right now my feet are hitting the ground quite a lot.

[I was doing some study for my molecular biology unit and discovered the tasty factoid that the human body produces 100 trillion (yes trillion) molecules of haemoglobin (the iron-bound protein that transports oxygen to your muscles) every day. ]

I don't think it's affecting my running though at the moment. I'm really happy with how I'm progressing. I've now strung together five months of consistent training and am in the best shape of my life. Tempo runs, which used to be my nemesis, have been going beyond smoothly and I am noticing the improvement even between weeks. I think my running goals are definitely attainable for this year. Barring injury, I should be running 1:20 for a HM pretty soon:)

The twenty four challenge is still pretty far out of reach though. I'm doing allright on the running and cycling sides, but the calisthenics exercises are proving difficult to master. I'm still struggling to manage 100 pushups a day and after making rapid progress, am back to a pathetic max set of 15. Pullups are getting heaps easier though. I managed to do 10 the other day:)

Tempo run vomination

Really wasn't feeling up to doing a tempo run this evening. Hadn't eaten enough for breakfast or lunch and had endured a growling stomach for two hours before I clocked off work and headed over to the gym. Surprisingly I felt a fair bit better after the 3k warmup (progression from 6:00/k to 4:00/k to get the legs moving), but that feeling didn't last long. The goal was 30:00 for 8k and as soon as the treadmill got up to speed (3:45/k), it immediately felt too fast. I felt like I was going to slip off the back and had to really concentrate on keeping the cadence up. After a few minutes I was sweating like a dog (one genetically modified to have sweat glands), knowing it was unsustainable and expecting to start bonking any moment.

Happily that never happened, though I was never comfortable and had to pull out all my mind games (long multiplication problems, counting cadence, watching the big guys lift small weights) to get me through it. After 5k (18:45), I decided to crank up the speed a bit just so it would be over more quickly. Ended up finishing in 29:40, feeling pretty spent. I weighed myself afterwards and I'd lost two kg of water weight. Drank heftily from my drink bottle to compensate, which was apparently not very much appreciated by my stomach, because I progressively vomited it all out onto the side of the bike path as I rode home.

Understandably felt very weak by the end of the ride:P

Quite happy with the workout even though it was damn tough. The legs feel good and recovered from the ride to Colac over the weekend (halfway through writing a report for that) and I've dropped a bit of weight (scale's read 68.4kg the last few times, down from 70kg a week ago). Long run on Sunday (19k) will be a bit fearsome, but I'll get through it. Then I'm planning on doing a Half Marathon Sunday week completely untapered. Realistically, I probably won't do much better than 90 minutes, but am kind of hoping to get a PB. The week after that will involve a taper for Puffing Billy.

Looking forward to it all, but am feeling a bit cluttered at the moment with essays to write, mid semester exams to study for etc.

Run for the kids 09

Owch that hurt. Found fellow coolrunner Tony(aka TigerBoy) at the start and we went a little bit too fast. Not quite the 3:13/k that the 1st km marker would've had us at (I don't think any of them were accurate), but definitely too fast! Started to feel it after the climb out of the tunnel but was still going strong until the double whammy of the Bolte bridge and a stitch took the wind out of my sails. Couldn't take advantage of the downhill on the other side of the bridge and TB caught me up around the 8.5k mark. Tried to stay with him, but my legs just didn't have enough power and the stitch was really making it hard. The hill up next to Etihad stadium was just cruel! I got a bit of boost at the 12k mark and again as I ran past the musicians on South Bank. Saved up a bit for the end and TB's CR hat in the distance provided a good incentive to start my kick. I almost died prematurely thanks to the misleading 14k marker, but managed to relax and ramped it up another notch for the finish. Crossed the line in 57:21 (GPS time, forgot my timing chip so that's all I have to go off) seeing stars and close to vomiting. The announcer called the first aid team out for TB and I as we lay collapsed on the asphalt:P It took ten minutes for my vision to clear up.

A bit of an underperformance, but it's still a six minute PB for me, so can't be too unhappy with that. Definitely need to work on the hills for next time.

100k ski tour to farewell Europe

It's been a while since the last blog entry. Things have been pretty hectic lately and I've been too busy doing things to spend time writing about what it is I've been doing.

This morning I packed up all my things, somehow managing to get everything back in my various bags in about a tenth of the time I spent back in Melbourne three months ago. Martin gave me a hand with a troublesome bolt on my pannier rack and then my bike (or at least the various parts of it) too was packed away in its protective case. And that was it, I was ready to go. I bade goodbye to the people who had become like a surrogate family to me and set off on the journey back to Frankfurt.

Luke had given me his German-rail pass, which still had four days left on it. I was taking a risk using it because it's registered with his passport and states clearly that it is non-transferable, but in all the journeys we'd taken so far, neither of us had ever had a ticket inspector ask for our passport and a thirty seven euro saving is rather attractive. Sure enough, the Deutsche-Bahn employee who came through the carriage just before we got to Frankfurt barely glanced at the ticket, not even noticing that I hadn't filled in the date (so it still had three days of travel left on it:P). Assisted by helpful Mitreiser (it happened at every stop actually), I dragged my bags off the train, down the platform to lift to the underground network, took the subway to Konstablerwache and then started the long haul to the youth hostel. It was only 500m, but with 60kg of luggage including a bike bag that only had one working wheel, it was extremely hard work. Watched on by curious motorists, I struggled for an hour, stubbornly resisting the urge to flag down a taxi (I probably wouldn't have fitted in one anyway). Hilariously, I was tailed by a police car as I crossed a bridge over the Main. They strolled over and after I told them what I had in the bag, they sheepishly admitted that they had thought I was planning to parachute off the bridge. Considering it was about 10m down to the water, I found their concern rather comical. Any BASE-jumping attempt from that height would surely result in the jumper receiving a Darwin-award for their swift death by drowning (I'm pretty sure even Michael Phelps couldn't swim to safety if he was entangled in a net of parachute silk).

Right now I'm lying on my bed in the Frankfurt Youth Hostel munching on what will probably be my last Riesenbrezel for a while (probably a good thing – the number of Pretzels and associated Laugen products I've eaten over the last few days is surely not healthy!) and waiting for Luke to show up. Tomorrow we're going to have to drag our vast array of baggage to the train station, drag it on and off a few trains, drag it through the airport terminal and then hopefully drop it off at the counter without having to pay any excess luggage fees. The thirty six hours of jet hopping to follow will be blissfully unencumbered with the baggage dragging duties transferred to various baggage handlers and mechanical lifting aids. If all goes well, I'll be back in Melbourne by 10am on Monday for my first day back at uni in what I'm told will be sweltering heat (gah! I much prefer the comfortable -2C average I've been having here).

So that's what's happening next but what has been happening? Let's rewind a little bit, shall we? I left my Ferienwohnung (holiday apartment) on the 20^th Feb and caught a train or three back to Bad Teinach, riding my laden bike up the obscenely steep road to the Dietrich's house. The next morning, Martin, Franz (Martin's son) and I drove to some destination, whose exact name or location I am not sure of because I managed to sleep the whole way in spite of the ski poles poking into the side of my head. There we met Gregor, a friend of Martin, who was coming along for the ski trip too. Because the trail we were going to follow on our skis was of the point to point variety (from Schonach to Belchen – two towns in the north part of the Black Forest), we needed to have a car at both ends, so we then drove to Belchen, parked Martin's car and then crammed ourselves into Gregor's car for the drive back to the start.

I was still feeling quite groggy from the travel and the sleeping and the big breakfast I'd consumed and was strongly suspecting that I was going to be the weak link in the chain that would slow down the rest of the gang, but thankfully the pace was very reasonable and I had no problems keeping up. The skies were grey and overcast, but the ubiquituous Fir trees of the Black Forest still made for a charming backdrop for the well groomed trail. The terrain wasn't at all challenging with only gentle ascents and descents and I found myself really enjoying the experience. The others were still finding their skiing legs, which meant I had plenty of time to get over my grogginess as I waited at the bottom of the hills for them to catch up ('Voll Kamikaze' is the only way I know to approach a downhill:P). There were still more breaks for reviving cups of tea from Thermoses. All in all, it was a very different style of skiing to what I had done over the previous two weeks. Alone, I generally don't take any breaks at all (excluding the occasional venture into the trees to empty my bladder), but I was perfectly content to take it easy for a change.

I think it took us about six hours to do the eighteen km to our stop for the night: a Naturfreundehaus ('Nature friends house'). It was situated right on the trail, so we barely had to go fifty metres to get out of the cold. While the others relaxed inside, I swapped my skis for running shoes and went for a jog on the ice and snow covered road, much to the bemusement of the families returning from the toboggan slopes ('Did you lose your skis or something?').

Dinner that night was in the house restaurant, which being a shining beacon of traditional German cuisine, had very little to offer for vegans. I settled for the tried and true option: Pommes frites (two plates worth) and salad. Not very nutritious, but oh well. Very tired, I was ready to go to bed but the witches would have none of that on Fasnat! Fasching had come to the Naturfreundehaus in the form of several men dressed up in cloaks and hideous masks, carrying inflated calf bladders, with which they playfully bashed patrons of the restaurant over the head while cackling gleefully.

Fasching is a Catholic tradition that dates back to the middle ages in Germany. To celebrate the end of Winter, people dress up in colourful costumes, which are different in each region; parade through city streets, grabbing on-lookers and shutting them in cages; and generally have a jolly old time (often assisted by imbibing large amounts of alcohol). The festivities last several weeks, shifting from city to city each weekend. We left for the skiing trip at the height of the celebrations when children (and many adults) get a week off school.

The next day I took full advantage of the breakfast buffet; eating bowl after bowl of muesli until the proprietors declined to set out any more and then stuffing my face with delicious rye bread. I'd estimate I ate around four times as much as the average guest:P That would teach them to not have a decent dinner menu for people of my dietary persuasion! Well fueled for the twenty eight km scheduled for the day, I headed down to the ski room to pick up my means of propulsion over the snow only to discover that some terrible person had made off with my (rented) stocks! I was left with a similar looking pair that was a good 40cm too short for me. Martin joked that he wished it had happened to him – one of his plastic retainers had broken off completely leaving a rather pathetic looking stick.

It had snowed the previous night, only stopping about an hour before we set off, which meant that the trail was no longer groomed. Ordinarily this would spell hard work as we'd have to gouge out our own track into the snow, but happily, a group of seven fellow Rucksackläufer had already done the hard work for us. We made solid progress, going much faster than the day before even though there were quite a few hills in the mix. Gregor was really struggling though. His backpack weighed probably twice as much as mine and he admitted that he hadn't done any training whatsoever for the trek. Martin and Franz hadn't spent much time on skis either, but they're both pretty active and had no problems. After fifteen km, we stopped at a tavern for lunch (chips were the only option for me again) and Gregor decided he'd had enough for the day. He'd catch a bus and meet us at the farm where we were going to spend the night.

It was definitely the right decision because by the time we reached our destination, I was completely exhausted and so were Martin and Franz. Gregor definitely wouldn't have made it and it probably would have been dark by the time we got there if he had come with us. Going for a run wasn't an attractive option at all but I forced myself back out into the frigid air and surprisingly felt better for the slow four km I managed before it got too dark to continue.

After all that exercise, my appetite was taking on colossal proportions. Carbs were needed in great quantities, but I was a bit apprehensive about eating dinner. The farmer's wife had kindly agreed to make dinner for us, but it was pretty clear that vegans and even vegetarians were a foreign concept to her. I gingerly picked out fried potatoes from the side of the dish, trying to avoid the juices from the sausages and meatballs she'd plonked on top. If it hadn't been for the bottle of beer she brought down too, it would have been a very sad meal indeed.

Breakfast the next morning was a much better affair. Home made bread and jam were present in great quantities and went down well with a pot of coffee that I had to myself thanks to the tea drinking tendencies of the rest of the group. Retrieving my skis from the garage, I discovered a pile of bread rolls and pretzels that had presumably been collected from a bakery at some point to feed to the pigs. Trying a pretzel, I was delighted to discover that it was still quite edible and stuffed my pockets full:P

Despite a fairly early start, we didn't actually start skiing until around 10.30 because it wasn't quite clear how to get back on the trail. After walking with our skis for about two kms, we asked some fellow skiers who were heading to Feldberg for a spot of downhill, and they pointed out the trail down below. Instead of walking back down the road, we opted to ski down over the snow covered fields. There must have been over a metre of snow, but the frozen crust meant we didn't sink into the drift like I expected and actually built up a bit of speed. Martin made it to the trail first despite my best efforts. His waxed skis gave him at least twice as much glide as mine with their scales to provide 'inbuilt braking' (of course the scales also mean that one doesn't have to stop halfway through the day, cursing as first the cigarette lighter and then the matches fail to ignite the portable propane blow torch necessary to melt wax onto the skis as the snow conditions change:P).

The weather was especially overcast that day and since we were up around 1300m, the clouds were all around us. Visibility was down to about twenty metres and all I could see was Franz's bright blue jacket set against a rather lovely field of whiteness. Downhills came as a surprise and I abandoned my kamikaze tactics to avoid flying out onto a road or some other such intractable obstacle. It was a relief when the trail went back into the forest and the fog subsided a little bit.

After eight km we reached Hinterzarten and since it was a pretty short day, we decided to stop for lunch even though no-one was really hungry. Like the day before, Gregor decided he wouldn't be able to make it all the way. His boots were digging into his toes making every stride painful and he just wasn't enjoying it anymore. So we called up the Jägerheim lodge where we'd be staying that night and told them to expect one less person. He'd take the train back to Schonach.

So we were down to three people. The group of seven who were also following the trail were doing even worse. Four of them walked into the pub where we were eating lunch and told us that one of their members had suffered a knee injury and had had to be taken to hospital. I was disappointed to see that it wasn't the fellow who had stolen my stocks. The day before, we'd gone past them and I noticed immediately that this guy was using my fine carbon fibre beauties. I was all ready to go up to him and politely ask him to swap back, when I spotted an enormous bend in the shaft that would perhaps be suited to slalom skis but certainly not for cross country. He could keep them:P

We arrived at the lodge without incident and were welcomed by the very gregarious Dutch family who had been running the newly renovated Jägerheim for the previous six months or so. They were most accommodating of my veganism and served up quite a good dinner including the best tomato soup I've ever had. Service was rather slow though (three hours for a three course meal!): we overheard some French guests remarking that it was 'manger comme en France' (like eating in France):P

I was a bit apprehensive about the final day. There were still thirty three km to the finish line and considering it had taken us almost all day to do 27km, I was envisioning a race against the dipping sun. It turned out quite the opposite. After a very steep climb to the summit of Mt Feldberg (we didn't actually bother going all the way up to the summit because it was too foggy to see anything), it was basically downhill for the rest of the day. I was infused with energy, probably because I'd drunk four cups of coffee with breakfast, and really went for it. We passed the group of five with whom we'd enjoyed a healthy rivalry since the start of the trail. That morning, Franz and I were waiting outside for Martin when they skiied past and called out 'Aha, waiting for us to groom the trail for you again, you slackers!'. Franz put on a show of running up the stairs and yelling to Martin 'Dad, the groomers are here, we can go now!' I was doubled over laughing and so was everyone else:P

It was going so well that we didn't even bother stopping for lunch, but just kept skiing steadily. Martin (who had picked up a cold) and Franz were starting to flag a little towards the end, but with the aid of a few shortcuts, we made it back to the car park by 3:30PM: the earliest finish of the whole tour! Some scumbag Belgian woman had parked in front of us, so we couldn't actually leave. I started shovelling away the snow that had almost buried the car after four days of neglect and luckily she did end up arriving just as I was finishing off the job. Driving back in the rain was very relaxing.

Overall, I really enjoyed the experience and can't wait to do it again. There's actually a race that takes place every year over the same course. The only difference is that they do it in one day, not four! I'd really like to give it a crack next time I'm in Germany. With skating skis, I think it would be possible.

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I got back to Melbourne on Monday after a marathon 36hr journey. It's good to be home, but I do miss Germany, especially the cold temperatures! I'm writing this at 4am in the morning: I thought I was back in Aussie time, but woke up after two hours and couldn't get back to sleep.

Winter nirvana

Warning: the following images may be distressing to some readers who are currently sweltering in an horrible Melbourne Summer






I can't even begin to describe how perfect it is here. It's been snowing heavily almost every day since the storm I mentioned in my last blog. I've never seen so much snow in my life and it is truly a glorious sight. Every single cross country ski trail in the area is open and groomed, all 120km of them. No longer am I stuck doing soul destroying laps round the 2.4km Ski stadium loop; instead I can actually get somewhere. In the past I've had to rely on taking a bus with a very sparse (once every two hours) and confusing timetable but now thanks to the marvelous trail that stretches all the way from Freudenstadt to Kniebis, I can arrive and depart whenever I feel free.

The immense variety of trails has me so keen that I've been skiing for almost the entire day, leaving the apartment at 10:30, catching a train to Freudenstadt and then buzzing around until sunset. Last Sunday I clocked up 60km, which I was pretty pleased with (especially considering I did 57km the day before). I feel like I'm getting very fit. I'm not quite approaching the times I skiied last year (actually I'm a long way off), but I'm putting it down to the extra workload from my two runs a day and the shoddy hire skis I've got.

They're really quite appalling pieces of equipment and I've practically destroyed them over the two weeks I've had them. The plastic retainer on the stocks has snapped resulting in an awful groaning sound being emitted each time I push off. The skis themselves also complain on each stroke (probably because I've managed to scrape off any wax that was present on the surface) and today I received a new member of the orchestra in the form of a shoddy binding that makes a strange clicking sound whenever I lift the ski off the ground. It was quite amusing when it first happened because the snow somehow bounced the sound up into the air so that I was convinced the rattling sound was coming from my skull!

Sadly I only have one more day in Klostereichenbach. But that isn't to say tomorrow will be my last day of skiing until Winter time in Melbourne. After I pack all my things back into my panniers and heft them on to my bike, I'll make my way back to Alt Bulach (by train I think). Martin asked me a while back if I'd like to go on a ski tour with him and a few others and of course I said yes! We'll drive to Schonach on Saturday and start off on a four day, 100km trek, ending up in Feldberg. With backpacks on our backs and classic skis on our feet, we'll ski along until we reach the accommodation for that night. Initially I thought it was going to be snow camping and was really excited by the prospect, but, perhaps more sensibly, we're going to be staying in Guest houses and Naturefreudehäuser (kind of like hiking lodges I think). It should be great fun:) I can guarantee my legs are going to be destroyed by the end though! I've had to do a bit of classic each day to get to the start of the skating trails and it really works my quads!

A little anecdote: Today I went up to my landlady's apartment to hand over the 327 euros (it was slightly disconcerting carrying that much cash around!) for my stay. She invited me in and chattered along as friendly, old women are wont to do and then suddenly asked me if I was into extreme sports. Huh? Apparently she'd heard me coming in last night after going for a midnight (had been to see a movie - 'The curious case of Benjamin Button') run over the icey pavement and decided that anyone crazy enough to do that on a regular basis must be an 'extreme sportsperson'. Well I thought I was just going out for a jog, but I'm happy for it to be called extreme:P It almost makes the horrible transition from warm house into -10C outdoors seem justified.

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For those who are interested, stats for last week:
Running: 80.26km in 10:05 (7:31/k)
Skiing: 248.94km in 27:45 (9kph)
Total: 43hrs 19mins

11/2 The bike stays at home from now on

So a synopsis of the last few days is in order. I've settled into the Ferienwohnung, gotten over my cold and started up a new routine. Basically my days have resembled something like this:

8:30 Get up sluggishly and try to summon up the energy to go for a run
8:35 Go back to bed
8:50 Go for a very slow run
9:40 Eat an enormous breakfast
11:00 Ride up to Kniebis
1:00 Strap the skis on and do a few laps
5:00 Ride home, braving the horrible cycling conditions
6:00 Cook and eat dinner
6:30 Play on the internet
10:00 Go for a sluggish run
11:30 Bed

I haven't made it sound very exciting, have I? To add a bit of flavour, let me describe to you in detail how that plan turned out in reality yesterday.

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Sunrise (or at least the presence of some light - the sun was blocked completely by the white skies) woke me up at eight am. I was feeling surprisingly energetic and got my running things on much faster than usual. Stepping out the door, I was nearly bowled over by an incredibly powerful gust of wind. It was like running in a dream: my legs were moving, but I wasn't going anywhere fast and my demons were right on my shoulder. My cap got blown off a few times, and my face was soon freezing from the wind chill and the stinging rain. I was very glad when I reached the turn-around point and enjoyed a large, wind assisted negative split.

A sensible person would have realised that those kind of conditions were not at all suitable for riding a bike in, but I am a very proud member of the website CrazyGuyOnABike.com and as such am far from sensible. Setting off, I nearly fell off the bike when a horrible cross gust caught me and pushed me right off the shoulder and carried me backwards for some five metres before I got my foot on the ground. This definitely wasn't good weather for riding! Thoughts of taking the train entered my mind, but that would be giving up and I never give up!

It was a bit better once I built some speed up, but I was still a bit worried about getting blown sideways into the path of a well-built German automobile. A friend had told me about an alternate road to Kniebis that no-one drives on anymore. It sounded ideal for today, so I went to the tourist office in Baiersbronn to ask for directions. While waiting in line, I scanned the weather report on the pinboard. "Hurricane force winds are expected with the possibility of a blizzard later in the day" *Gulp*

I told the woman at the counter what I was after, and after asking me whether I was crazy (not quite in those words, but that was the connotation), she told me that if I followed Sankenbachstrasse, I would eventually end up at Kniebis.

Righteo! Gathering all my willpower, I stepped out into the tempest once again, found Sankenbachstrasse and pedalled away. The road was quite steep, and soon I was high enough that the stinging rain was replaced with stinging pellets of snow and ice. It was a bit better than it was lower down though because the road was flanked by snow dusted Fir trees, which absorbed the worst of the cruel weather. Climbing, climbing, chain on the lowest ring, I spotted a sign telling me Kniebis was only six km away. Great, not only was the road less trafficked, it was also a big shortcut.

After a while, I got high enough that the snow from previous storms was still coating the road. This was my first time riding on snow and I wasn't quite sure what to do, so I just pretended it wasn't there and kept riding like normal. It actually worked quite well. The tyres didn't lose traction and I remained upright..for a while. A big snow drift sent the bike slipping out from under me and I found myself on the ground with one foot still clipped into the pedals. No harm done, it was of course a soft landing. I picked myself up, walked through the drift and hopped back on, keeping my cleats well away from the locking position on the pedals. For about 200m, I was able to keep on riding, but after that there was simply too much snow and I couldn't ride anymore. Time to walk I guessed. Trying to push away the thoughts of what would happen if I got lost here on a road that no-one would drive up for at least a few days (that's how old the one set of tyre tracks looked), I trudged onwards. My shoes and socks were soon sopping wet, but I wasn't at all cold, having rugged up pretty well.

It was a very beautiful path. If I had the choice of where to be stuck with a bike I couldn't ride, in sub zero temperatures, with snow smacking into me constantly, driven by a nasty wind, it would definitely be here. The views down into the valley were breathtaking. Naught could be seen but the wide expanse of forest. It wasn't really wilderness, but it felt like it.

Eventually the road plateaued and I was able to ride again. According to my cyclometer, I was only two km or so away from where the sign suggested Kniebis would be and thankfully I was able to ride the whole distance. It felt a bit strange emerging into the clearing and seeing buildings and cars again. I rode carefully through the town and past a line of trucks, which had all stopped to put chains on their tyres. They were almost blocking the entire road and seemed in no hurry to get moving again. I squeezed past and after losing traction again, walked the last few hundred metres to the ski stadium.

There was no-one there. One car was parked in the carpark, but knocking on the door of both the Hütte and the ski hire shop yielded no response. Damn... I really needed to do some skiing to warm up. Despite three layers of water proof material, I was wet to the bone and if I had to ride back down the mountain, I was going to get verry cold. I could see why they'd decided not to man the station today: the snow was swirling around in a very unfriendly manner that would have made skiing very unpleasant to say the least.

Sighing, I got back on my bike and gingerly set off down the road. Some school kids were waiting for the bus and encouraged me with yells of 'Hopp! Hopp! Hopp!'. I slipped off the bike about fifty metres later and they stopped cheering.. This didn't feel safe at all. I didn't want to ride down in these conditions, but the snow showed no sign of abating, so I didn't really have a choice.

Within the space of a kilometre, I went sprawling another three times. A police car driving up, presumably to sort out the mess the trucks were making of the road, stopped adjacent to me and a policeman yelled something at me when I told him I wanted to go to Freudenstadt. The wind blew away his reply (which judging by the gestures, was something along the lines of 'You're not allowed to'), so I shrugged and kept going.

Hugging the brakes, I tried to descend carefully, but every time a cross gust came along, I'd be blown off balance and hit the ground. Normally I'd be riding down at 40kph, but I didn't feel safe going even 10kph. After one particularly nasty fall, I decided to just walk down. It was still a good six km to Freudenstadt, so I wasn't too keen about that idea, but it just felt too unsafe to ride. Secretly I was hoping that one of the station wagons going past would stop and take me down. If I walked the whole way, I was going to put myself in danger of hypothermia, but I was still too proud to stick out my thumb for a lift.

After about a km, a snow plough came past and made the road a bit safer. I told myself to harden up and got back on the bike and rode in the middle of the road back to Freudenstadt without incident. It was the most painful five km of my life. My hands were so painfully cold that I almost couldn't grip the brakes.

There was no way I was going to ride back to Klostereichenbach. I decided to do what I should have done all along and take the train back. First though, I sought refuge in a supermarket, where I knew it would be warm. For about five minutes, I kept my head bowed, trying to conceal the tears as the exquisite pain of blood returning to my fingers tormented me. Suitably weighed down with provisions, I walked over to the train station. I'd missed the last one by a few minutes, so had to wait in the unheated room for an hour until the three o'clock service came gliding down the rails.

The first thing I did when I got home was have a long, hot shower. It would be impossible to describe how good it felt...

I made a vow to never again ride my bike up to Kniebis unless the weather report predicts sun and blue skies and all the snow has melted. Immediately I felt much better about my time here. I'd been counting down the days til I leave, which is a sure sign that I'm not enjoying myself too much. Removing the stress of riding in unsuitable conditions should bring back the fun I think. It's a bit ironic that I was beginning to hate the snow considering how much I love cross country skiing.

Some skiing pics/videos for posterity

Skating on Jubilee (Lake Mountain).



Before the hoppet


After the hoppet


Smile of exhaustion

It'll be interesting to compare my technique now to how it is in a few years. I think I look pretty good in that vid, but there are doubtless many small things I can do to improve.

Kangaroo Hoppet

Haven't blogged in quite a while, mainly because I've had a stack of uni work piling up and I've been trying to cut back on the amount of time I spend on running forums (which is sometimes more than I spend actually running:P). Running's going very well, but more about that later.

First, I've got a race report for the Kangaroo Hoppet to write:
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Last Thursday, I headed off with my dad and brother on the long drive to Falls Creek. We stopped for dinner at this atrocious place in Seymour, which looked promising from the outside considering the number of people inside, but after waiting an hour for overpriced food that looked like it'd come straight out of a freezer bag, we were beginning to doubt their judgement. Still had a fair way to go, so we stayed at a motel in Beechworth.

After a very relaxed breakfast, we drove down to Mt Beauty, and took care of a few errands (picked up a set of skis for my bro, got my skis waxed, got our race packs, hired some chains). A relaxed lunch sounded like a good way to kill some time until 2pm, when they stop charging for entry into Falls. We ended up getting up to the mountain at 4ish, sucked in the fresh mountain air and admired the beautiful views, before lugging our stuff up the 500m to our lodge (felt like a lot further in deep snow with 30kg strapped round my body!).

The lodge (icicles) turned out to be great. We'd never stayed there before, but a guy we once met at Lake Mountain recommended it, and it was pretty cheap, so we made a booking way back at the start of the season. Spacious rooms and most importantly: a pool table! While the others went for a light ski, I enjoyed my first complete rest day (didn't want to erode the wax off my skis:P) in four months and played about five games by myself in preparation for the annual pool challenge with my dad. Didn't help though, he beat me the first game and ended up winning the series 4-2:( Had a good chat with a few guys staying at the lodge RE waxing.

Dinner that night was at our restaurant of choice on the mountain: the man hotel. Discovered that they put milk in the pizza dough, so I had to settle with a roast vegie salad. Not quite the carbo load I was aiming for, but still pretty yum:) Went to bed pretty early, but couldn't sleep for a while due to pre-race nerves.

We all woke up at a good time, had a decent breakfast (including two NoDoz tablets) and then headed off to the start line. It ended up being pretty close to the start of the race, so I was in a bit of a rush and forgot to leave my bag at the check in point. Only realised about a minute before the gun went off and embarrassedly chucked it over the side:P Would've made me a tad less aerodynamic on the downhills, I suspect:P

Without much ado, the gun went off and we were racing! It wasn't quite as frenzied as the Bullfight Charge was two weeks before, and I was able to start skating almost straight away. The snow was nice and firm and I soon got into a good rhythm. I was quite amazed to see how fast I was going. The first k went by in something like 3:08! I'd never gone anywhere near that quickly before, yet I was finding it incredibly easy. The $35 wax job I had done must've really helped, because I was just gliding away with no effort at all.

At about the 3k mark, Chris, my old ski instructor from school passed me, looking very comfortable. I slowed a bit after that due to a slight uphill, but it was more than compensated for by the downhill that followed, and as I went past the 5k mark, I was astounded to see 15:03! My garmin was reading in the mid 4s, so I wasn't entirely convinced, but still, I was going fast! Thoughts of breaking 1:20 began to make themselves heard, and I was feeling good!

Over the next four km, I kept up a good pace, pulling in behind a guy who must've been in his 50s. I was still feeling very comfortable, but the whole time, I was quietly thinking about how much time I was going to lose up 'The Paralyser' - a 2.5k steep uphill. Shortly after the 9k mark it made itself felt. Immediately I went anaerobic and my legs felt very heavy. Everyone else seemed to be feeling the same because the old guy wasn't putting any ground on me. After a short flat section that provided an all too brief respite, I started feeling good again and picked up a few places. As we went up and up and up, I just kept grinding away, staring at my boots to avoid seeing how much further I had to go, until finally it was over:)

I'd been looking forward to the back section because it's relatively flat/downhill, so I started pushing some big strides and making up a lot of ground on the skiiers in front of me. I might've lost some time up paralyser, but it would still be possible to make up for it over the next 9k. What I hadn't anticipated was the wind... Without any trees to provide shelter, I was getting pushed all over the place and I just couldn't go fast. I tried draughting off someone in front, but it seemed to come from all directions, and I wasn't able to go any faster than before. Going down the long downhill that I'd screamed down last year, I felt like screaming because the wind was like a giant parachute on my back and I was bleeding time. Ended up double poling to try and keep my surface area as low as possible, but that meant that by the time I got to the last big hill, my upper body was stuffed! Struggled up it, and then just tried to push as hard as possible for the last 5k.

I did make up some time on the next flat bit, which was a little more sheltered, but when I got to the top of 'bladerunner' - a 2k downhill - and saw 1:18 on my Forerunner, I realised my sub 80 minute ambitions were out the window and just decided to try and enjoy it. It was a lot of fun gunning it down the bends and I overtook a few people, one of which yelled out "He must have fast skis!" (maybe I did but I think it was just because I hadn't snow ploughed round the previous few turns like he had:P). Didn't crash at all unlike last year, which I was happy about, because my hips were cramping up so I couldn't have really slowed myself down if I'd wanted to.

Huge relief at the bottom of bladerunner, because I discovered the course went over the dam wall:) Last year, there hadn't been enough snow there, so we'd had to drop down into this valley next to the dam and then climb up this really nasty uphill. I'd been dreading it all the way down, so for the last 1k or so to the finish line I had a big smile on my face:) Felt great to cross the line (and I did a little victory jump to celebrate:P), and I was very happy to see my time - 1:25:03. Before the race, I'd decided that my earlier goal to go for 80 mins was unfeasible and I'd be happy to just beat my running PB. On such a hard course, that is a big achievement, so I was very satisfied with that:) Plus it's a 15 minute PB:D Ended up coming 5th in my age group - one better than last year:).

Caught up with Chris after the race and was slightly bemused to hear him say he finished in 1:24. He was way ahead of me, so I didn't believe it at all, and told him so, but he seemed happy with it anyway. He must've been over the moon when he saw the results and saw 1:16 next to his name!

We watched the flower ceremony afterwards and were awed by the winners' times - how do they ski that fast!? Then it was back to the lodge (and I took a secret pleasure in overtaking one of the place getters in the hoppet:P It may have helped a little that he didn't realise we were racing and that he was carrying another set of skis and not poling, but still, that's one on the board for me:P), where still full of energy from the caffeine, I played a game of table tennis and pool with my brother and then suddenly spent, collapsed on the bed, ready to spend the rest of the afternoon there.

Dad wasn't having any of it, and he dragged us off to get some downhill skis/snowboards (telemarks for me, snowboard for my bro - traitor). We were slightly put off by reports of lightning on the summit, which had meant that the lifts had stopped operating, but by the time we had all our gear organised, they were running again, so we paid our $400 (for one day:| Jesus!) and hit the slopes. It's kind of amusing that downhill skiing is like riding a bike. I hadn't done it for a good year, and yet I was tucking into the telemark turns more confidently than ever. This has only confirmed my opinion that downhill skiing is not actually a real sport. That and the people we saw stopped halfway down the run, having a cigarette:S

We did about six runs before the lifts shut down. I was very glad about this as I hadn't worn proper clothes (still in xc mode) and my hands were so cold it hurt. I calculated that of the 90 minutes we had spent 'skiing', we had had our skis on the snow for about 13 of them:| That's what I hate about downhill. It's fun for 2 and a half minutes but then you have to spend 6 minutes on the chairlift, getting colder each time.

An early dinner and a few games of pool later, and I hit the sack, utterly exhausted. The rain pummeling our lodge was very soporific, and I entertained thoughts about what would happen if the bricks and mortar around me were suddenly to be removed by some malicious higher being, along with the clothes from my back. The idea that this would lead to a swift death was kind of exciting. I think that's one of the things I like about skiing. Up in the mountains, the force of nature seems infinitely more powerful. One feels a concrete sense of frontierism. Perhaps this is what makes everyone so friendly on the slopes, away from their usual environment.

The next morning, the rain still hadn't let up, but having spent $400 on lift tickets, we were rather anxious to take full advantage of them. I wrapped up far more warmly than the day before, but by the time we got to the start of the decent runs, I was already shivering. The wind and rain went straight through my many layers and I was already voicing a desire to wait in the cafe before we'd even done one run. Dad convinced me to do a few with him, but after the second, I realised I wasn't enjoying it and dragged my frigid body over to the cafe. It wasn't as warm as I hoped, but after two hours, I was somewhat dry and no longer on the point of frostbite. Dad and I did another two runs, which I found a lot more enjoyable than the first two and then we skiied back down to the village, having had our fill of downhill for the year. My brother was enjoying boarding too much to stop and didn't seem to be affected by the cold at all, so we agreed to meet him back at the lodge in 3 hrs.

The funny thing is, if it had been cross country skiing, I wouldn't have minded the conditions at all. It would've been uncomfortable, but I would've felt a sense of satisfaction for braving the elements, and plus I wouldn't have gotten too cold either. Going downhill though, I was just getting colder each run, and I wasn't getting anything out of it, so I felt no desire to just suck it up and keep going. Another reason why I prefer cross country.

After doing our bit to clean up back at the lodge, we said our goodbyes and lugged our stuff back down to the carpark (it was a lot easier going down than up I have to say!). It was with a trace of melancholy that I watched the mountains recede into the background. I really enjoyed my time there and although it was only a short trip, it felt like much longer. Great father/brother bonding experience too.

We eventually got back home a little past midnight and after a quick workout on the cross trainer, I went to bed, wishing it could've lasted longer.

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I'm happy to say that my injury woes now seem to be over:) I'm not getting any pain or stiffness in my legs anymore, so perhaps it was all just the creatine. Before the trip to falls, I'd racked up a running streak of 13 days straight, which I was very pleased with. Have had a few good runs this week, including a 14ker on Wednesday with Stefan, which felt a lot slower than it was (4:35/k) due to some sore/tired legs.

Seem to be coming down with a cold or flu or something though:( Took yesterday off running to try and beat it, but I can still feel a heaviness in my chest. Hopefully I'll be allright by Sunday for the Advanced Freight Half Marathon.

What a wonderful weekend

I had a really fantastic holiday over the last four days. I've been really busy all this year ever since coming back from Germany and haven't really had a time where I could just relax (well some people might not call what I did relaxing, but it was for me:P). Now I feel full of energy and am ready to jump back into the swirling whirlpool we call life:)



The weather report had been looking pretty promising all week, and so laden with about 30kg of stuff (skis, tent, food, clothes) I caught a bus up to Marysville and pitched my tent in darkness (and did a surprisingly good job in spite of the lack of vision). No sooner had I done this than it started absolutely pelting down. Sitting in the shelter eating my baked beans and reading my biology book, it didn't worry me at first, but it was sure hard getting to sleep that night with the heavy thud of the raindrops smacking against the fly of the tent and the growing wet patch on the side of the inner tent wall. I just tried to reconcile this slight discomfort (at least I was still warm in my many layers of thermals and my excellent sleeping bag) against the fact that if it was raining and 3 degrees down at Marysville at 400m above sea level, it would definitely be snowing way up on high (well for Australia at least - 1500m isn't a real mountain:P)!



And sure enough it was:) The next morning I emerged, not too cold or damp from the overnight treatment and hitched a ride up with a bloke from out Frankston way and his son. It was snowing really heavily even while we drove up. I had never seen the snow advance that far down the mountain before, and I've been going up nearly every year for about 10 years now. Driving without chains was out of the question in their sedan (and the icy conditions probably would have troubled even the most firm-footed of 4WDs), so we had to make a slight pause and jack up the car (damn those low profile tyres!) to put the chains on. So it was a bit of a long ride up (and I kicked in for the entry fee thank you very much), but I couldn't wait to get out there and test out the snow and see how rusty I'd become in the four months since my last skiing excursion.



It turned out I was pretty damn rusty. I was really struggling, having to step up most of the hills. I watched on in envy as two very professional guys glided effortlessly up this hill that normally wouldn't have challenged me either. There weren't many other people out there, so I just tried to enjoy it a little bit and hope that it would be better the next day. I decided that it wasn't my fitness or necessarily my technique that was the problem, it was just going to be tough out there with trails that were covered by super soft snow as soon as they were groomed. Perhaps it would've been easier had I waxed my skis (those two guys definitely would have), but skiing into a blizzard is never a big bowl of fun. Still I managed to get a solid five hours in, which I probably overenthusiastically wrote in my blog as 40km.



After hitching back down the mountain with a kind 4WD toting group, I sat in the Marysville bakery reading my book and trying to evaporate the moisture out of my damp and smelly clothes. It didn't work very well, and I crawled into my sleeping bag that night still wet in the hope that my body heat would do the trick. If you're thinking of trying that one, don't, because it doesn't work at all:P I wasn't cold, having put on every single layer of clothing I had, but it was still uncomfortable feeling all damp.

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The next morning would wipe away all those slight concerns though:) I caught a lift up with a very interesting guy, who had retired and was now a full time cross country skiier! I felt privileged to be able to grab a few hints off a guy who'd recently skiied a 2:35 marathon, winning his age-group in the process. I was a bit apprehensive about meeting him on the trails though as he was going to be doing classic and said he normally caught the 'hack skaters', a group which I feared I was a member of.

The snow was so much better, the difference was unbelievable. The team had done a great job of grooming the trails and it had set slightly overnight, so skating felt effortless. I was relieved and comforted at how good I was feeling. The hills that had defeated me yesterday were now child's play and most importantly, my technique was starting to feel smooth again. Perhaps a little overconfident, I decided to go round Jubilee - the hardest trail on the mountain - a few times. After two laps (and I later discovered they weren't even full ones!), I was destroyed and was doing about as well as I did on Friday up the hills. I desperately wanted to get off and back on to the easier trails, but I got lost! So I ended up having to do another lap haha.

It was in this state of tiredness that I re-encountered my chauffer of the morning. I subconsciously picked up my form, trying my best to avoid looking like a hack:P It turned out he was feeling pretty tired too so I needn't have worried:P We skiied together for a few kms before he peeled off to the car-park and I was chuffed to hear that I 'ski pretty well' (I did ask him what he thought of my form though, it wasn't an unprompted compliment:P). High praise coming from him:)

A little bit of energy returned following that encounter, and I was able to do another two hours, to bring up five hours for the day and around 45km. Had a nice chat with a friendly couple from Alexandria on the way back down. After eating dinner, I found a cozy bar with a nice fireplace and finally managed to get dry:) I slept well that night.

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Setting my alarm early the next day to get a decent ski in before I had to catch the bus back to Melbourne created some difficulties getting up the mountain. Apparently not many people go up the mountain at 7:30 :O. I eventually got a ride up with a ski-patroller, who gave me a handy hint about 'poor man's wax': spray a little Mr Sheen on your ski and you're good for 5-6 hours apparently. Definitely could've used that on Friday!

I was expecting to be experiencing some major DOMS/residual fatigue from the past two hard days, but instead, I found myself stronger than ever! To start off, I skiied up Royston Road - a 3km, 10% grade uphill slope, which I reckon is good preparation for 'The Paralyser' in the Kangaroo Hoppet. Being up that early, I was skiing on almost virgin, groomed snow, broken only by the tracks of one other skiier. Watching the sun rise through the snow covered trees was breath-takingly beautiful.

The unexpected strength lasted about two and a half hours, and then I bonked big time. My muscles began to feel what they'd been put through over the last three days, and I struggled, walking up the hills. It didn't phase me though, I was still enjoying it too much! Another few loops and I was finally done, which meant it was time for the most enjoyable part of the day: skiing back down Royston Road. I only just managed to restrain a whoop as I carved some telemark turns:)


After fourteen hours of skiing in three days, I was feeling very satisfied, but glad it was over too. It was just the right amount to do. I definitely didn't want to do any more that day, especially as it had started to rain, spelling an end to the good snow. Unfortunately, leaving that early meant I had to wait around in the rain for ages, watching car after packed car (including one full of teenagers from which a cigarette lighter was thrown at me:s) drive past, until a kindly VW driver picked me up. He was a fellow skiier who hadn't been out to Lake Mountain for years, so there was plenty to talk about. I even picked up a snow driving tip (don't brake round the corners).

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So that was it. I packed up my bags, shook the leeches off my tent and picked up my deposit from the caravan park owners (who were busy talking to the police, probably about a former resident) and hopped on the bus back to Melbourne. Watching the mountain subside into the distance, I couldn't help but feel quite melancholy. A big part of me longed to stay in Marysville, away from the big smoke. I wish I were retired and could ski all day....

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My Garmin FR205 came today! I couldn't believe it came so soon - they only shipped it on Thursday! Looking forward to taking it for a spin tomorrow:)

Going skiing:)

Good news: it's snowing up at Lake Mountain! So in a few hours, I'll be on the bus to Marysville, where I'll be camping for the next three nights in order to get three full days of XC skiing in:D It'll be my first time in four months, so I'm really looking forward to it.

In other news, it's probably a good thing I have that to look forward to, because I can't run much at the moment. Yep, you guessed it, the 101.5k workout on Sunday tore me to shreds and now I'm getting pain up my shins. I'm pretty confident it's just muscular, but I want to let it rest fully before running again.

It's made me realise that it really wasn't worth it. Sure I knew it was a crash training week and that this week would be pretty pathetic to compensate, but to have to skip quite a few important running workouts cancels out any benefits I would've gotten from doing that much on Sunday.

I had an amazing crash on Tuesday - felt fine on Monday, but I had absolutely no energy the next day and my resting heart rate was up to 60 from my normal average of 39-45:O Ironically, I only started feeling better once I did my workout on the cross trainer and went for a short (and becoming painful) jog.

Perhaps due to my impaired judgement, I bought a Garmin FR 205 from Al's pro sport watches that night:D Can't wait for it to arrive:D