That Rough Year... (The rollercoaster that was 2015)

I tend to disagree with the phrase "things happen for a reason". Funny, because it used to be one of my favourites. But sometimes, things don't happen for a reason. Sometimes, whilst you may be able to grow, learn and become stronger, and even see some positives through an experience, it is still just brutally unfair, painful and without reason.

Loss is one such experience. It sucks. Pure and simple. Even for the most optimistic and positive of us, the feeling of loss can be hard to shirk off. Sadly, my family got to experience this feeling twice this year. Finding positives in such a situation is a decision, it's in the head. It doesn't make you feel less sad no matter how much positive self talk you do - trust me, I've tried! 2015 will be filed away with the title "that rough year".

But...Even the steepest and deepest dips on a roller coaster also have their ups.

As an athlete too, this year was a tricky one to navigate. Illness marred the first half of my athletic season but even within that I need to remember that I did manage to pull out some performances with which I'm satisfied - A podium at one of Melbourne's largest fun runs, Run for the Kids (32,000+ competitors in total); a training session of 10x1kms in times I still don't believe I actually did; my best swim of the first half of the year perfectly timed at the ITU Oceania Championships where I finished 13^th Elite (and taking home important ITU ranking points); a couple of Gatorade Elite podiums and scoring valuable ITU points at Oceania Cups....

The second half of the year was a lot kinder to me as an athlete. It too was the most difficult though on a personal level. In June, loss number one occurred, just as I had landed in Spain for three months. In October, loss number two occurred, two days before the Noosa Triathlon.

But.....

Whilst nothing can offset the gravity of grief, again I need to extrapolate the positives from this year. I need to focus on those and use them as the building blocks for 2016. 2015, whilst having the lowest of lows, did have some very satisfying high points too.

I surprised myself to finish on the pro podium (3rd) in my first non-drafting professional race at the 5150 in Marseille, France with the fastest female run time of the day (also my best 10km run off the bike of my life).

I finished 7th in the ITU European Cup in Turkey (within the all-important ITU points threshold) and had a top 5 run time at the ITU European Cup in Latvia (riding and running my way into 14th after being almost 30th out of the water).

Closer to home, I was happy to win the overall female Victorian Duathlon Title, and be in the middle of two World Champ representative athletes on the podium at Raby Bay. An 8th place (7th Australian) at Australia's richest triathlon, the Nepean Triathlon, in an intimidating pro field, was my last race this season that I finished.

Uncharacteristically, my body started to cave in Sept. The long haul flights and thus sitting and sleeping in odd positions, probably just catching up with me. A niggle in my back since the last week of September seemed to ease and was managed through the State Duathlon Champs, Gatorade Triathlon and the Nepean Triathlon. But at some point, you've got to be realistic, smart and know when to call it. And so, with an irritated back turning into an angry back, over and out to 2015 one race sooner than hoped was the only smart choice.

Throughout this debacle of a year, my coach, Warwick Dalziel has been exceptional. He has coached me this year as a person, not as an athlete. In a year that has thrown at us what it did, that was what was needed, but it's what many coaches would fail to do. In high performance sport, it's so easy to forget that we athletes are people first and athletes second. Warwick recognized this and it needs to be acknowledged. Thank you.

To my sponsors - Funkita Swimwear, Merida Bikes, Fitzroy Cycles, Injinji, Asics, Pure Sports Hydration, and Melbourne Sports Hub – thank you! You probably have no idea just how truly thankful I am for your support, particularly this year.

With all that has happened this year, on and off the track, I keep forgetting how new I am to this game. After all, it was just two and bit years ago that I started this crazy journey of a professional triathlete. My first little parcel of ITU racing was Sept/Oct of 2013. I did 3 Asian Cups in 5 weeks, had a break and hit Oceania and European Cups for the first time just last year. Wow, these two years have included so much more than it feels could happen in just two years. 2016 can't come around soon enough.


So to 2015 I say "good riddance" but I also say "thank you". Thank you for challenging me in ways I've never before been challenged. Thank you for making me stronger. Thank you for teaching me more about myself as an athlete and a person than I thought possible in just one season. And thank you for some surprise good performances (amongst the disappointments), that showed me what I'm capable of in 2016.

Onward and upward.

Hashtag Road to Platinum... (the other part to professional triathlon)

As I stood in yet another line, in yet another lounge, in yet another airport, perspiration pouring down my face, and my anger and frustration rising with every tick of the airport clock, I questioned whether it was all worth it.

The road to platinum I mean.

I had just missed my connection from London to Madrid and I was now being lied to by airline staff about which flights operated.... Despite my having flown on the exact flights in question only the previous week. Tell me they're full - fine. Don't say the flight doesn't and hasn't ever existed!
No matter what onlookers will tell you, the road to platinum is paved with hard work, frustration, and exhaustion. Just as the other, less thought about side to the supposedly "glamorous" world of professional sport isn't exactly glamorous.

Rewind

It was just over two months prior to my frequent flyer anniversary date. I was at our training base in Spain and logged on to my frequent flyer account for a routine check. I knew I'd comfortably retain my gold status but until that day, that warm summer's day in Spain, I had never thought of the “#roadtoplatinum” as possible. With a small hint of potential, I set about routing, calculating and re-routing and re-calculating my remaining race travel for June/July and August. I could really do this. I could feel the black card in my hands, I could smell the envelope in which it would arrive. It was decided. I was going for it.

But no matter what anyone thinks, whilst this is a story that ends well, it was not an easy path I chose to take on that fateful Spanish summer's day in June. Just as travelling as a professional triathlete is not as simple, carefree and joyful as the beautiful, scenic photos you’ll see posted on Instagram. This is the other side, the side that doesn’t make for happy photo moments.

Being a cost conscious triathlete, I naturally limited myself to Oneworld airlines that did not charge for bike handling. Thus, Iberia (the Spanish home airline) was out. Thankfully, British Airways are more welcoming of the notion of traveling with bikes, and thus, it was decided that every race would need to be arrived at via London Heathrow: Cheaper AND maximal status credit earning potential AND reasonable connections to most European destinations (when things run on time!). Strategy number one applied. Although easier said than done. In ten weeks, I have transferred between Heathrow’s Terminal 3 and Terminal 5 eight times!

Many might think that I chose an affluent path to take in chasing platinum status, and in my choice of airlines. Quite the contrary. Travelling for triathlon races requires more strategic thinking than it appears on the surface to outsiders. So much more

Stage one: the booking process

Sometimes it is actually cheaper at the end of the day to pay slightly more for a higher class of travel or for what is perceived as a premium airline. If bikes travel free as a result, then it may actually be the cheaper option at the end of the day. Some airlines will charge north of $100 per bike, per flight. I ask you, what is the point in paying $100 less for a return ticket on a cheap airline to then be charged multiples of that at the airport for bike handling? Then, we need to look at the aircraft size for certain legs for certain airlines. If there is a choice between a little “propeller job” and a B737, then the B737 is clearly the smarter choice – more space for bikes in the hold - even if it comes at a small price premium. What’s the real price of the trip if the bike doesn’t even arrive for the race and you can’t race?! These are things that we triathletes have to take into consideration every time we travel.

To arrive at the best possible outcome, this job is not as simple as heading to Skyscanner, finding the cheapest ticket and clicking “confirm”. Connection times at stopover airports must also be considered (less than an hour and your bike probably won’t make the connection). My journey through Heathrow, (whilst exhausting when things didn’t go to plan), at least enabled me to fly on an airline that does not charge for bicycles, that has decent connection times (sometimes too long), and flies aircraft of a large enough size to all my required destinations around Europe. They also have a flawless system in place when bikes don’t arrive: frequency of flights means your bike will have sufficient options for eventually getting to you more quickly and are more likely to arrive before the race.

Are you exhausted? Well you’re not even at the airport yet!

Stage two: Check in

Arriving at the check in desk, already sweating from dragging a bike through the terminal (for me, sometimes two bikes!), what potential issue do you sweat even more on first? Is it the weight of your bike when you weigh it at the counter? Or even better, whether the airline will accept your bike at all. At least once, this year and last (when I faulted and chose an inferior option of airline and one with which I had no status), I was told at check in that my bike may not be accepted and if not, then I would not be able to board either. Thirty minutes of arguments later, I succeeded this year but last year was left in an airport terminal for 12 hours and carrying a 500 euro bill for a change of flights (despite it not being my fault at all). With airline status, these debacles become (largely) redundant and can, in itself, entirely justify my journey to platinum.

I choose to be a professional athlete. I choose the lifestyle it entails. And I love it. TRAVELLING as a triathlete IS tough. BEING a triathlete is amazing. I am thankful every day for this opportunity but when I’m dragging a bike bag (or two) through an airport, arguing with airline staff and simultaneously missing a connection, it is still tiring. So when you see me flashing my platinum status card in the next twelve months, know that there was a clear motivation behind choosing that path. It was a clearly thought out, strategic plan requiring plenty of hard work. The motivation wasn’t simply the feel of the black card between my fingers, nor the lure of the First Class Lounge over the Business Lounge. On the contrary. Platinum can help minimise (nothing of course can fully eradicate) the everyday stresses of travel. It means I can arrive at airports later, I can travel with a significantly higher baggage allowance (of particular economic benefit when you have two bikes), my bike (is meant to) have priority for making flights, and I have the luxury of fast tracking queues and lines at airports. This all minimises external stresses arising from travel that could impact what I am actually there to do: race. PLUS, at the bottom line, it saves tangible dollars.

Maybe there is a little George Clooney from “Up in the Air” in myself. I may squeal like a little child when the envelope arrives in the mail. I may stare at the black card for a full minute, marveling that after six years of gold status, I finally made the step up. I may have become slightly obsessed with my “#roadtoplatinum” so much so that my training squad were the ones that arrived at the “#roadtoplatinum” Insta/Twitter tag for me. BUT, beyond that does lie a very deliberate plan to make travelling as a triathlete easier and cheaper. For those wasting their time, energy and money on what they don’t realise are complete false economies, do not think of my “#roadtoplatinum” as one of affluence. With some smart thinking and planning, you too could make life a little easier (and cheaper) for yourselves at airports. And for those outside of our sport, do not be misguided. We may smile in our Instagram photos but that’s because we love what we do, not because it’s easy.

Searching for Simplicity .... (first half of season 2015)

I’ve been teased. I’ve been mocked. I’ve been laughed at. Indeed, I love to watch the cartoon, “Bob’s Burgers!” And I’ll tell you why. It’s simple. In such a complex world, is it really that bizarre to crave a little simplicity?! It’s simple and it’s funny, enjoyable entertainment. What you see is what you get. Nothing more, nothing less. Sometimes it would be nice if life was a little like Bob’s Burgers. The last few months have been challenging. Life has been far from simple. Not much has made sense…. Until finally (spoiler alert) last Sunday, at a 5150 Triathlon in France, something uncomplicated and “good” happened.

The months of March to May were marred by illness for me. Gastro ended my day early in Mooloolaba. I never get gastro. It was odd. And then a nasty flu (complete with vertigo, dizziness, headaches and ultimately, on returning to Australia, a complete inability to stand up) ended my day early in the Philippines.  In between these mishaps, I managed some flashes of brilliance but they were in training so, at the end of the day, fruitless. Randomly, one Friday evening in April, I performed a set of 10x1km reps at a pace >5secs/km faster than we had expected or that I was meant to. And it felt so easy. This was perfectly timed, two weeks before the race in the Philippines - the race where sickness prevented me even getting to my running shoes in T2. I was then just getting back on my feet physically and mentally when a nasty sinus infection hit and I was put on a month long series of various antibiotics. Despite still being somewhat under the weather, I headed to Mauritius for the African Cup, desperately searching for some confidence. A top 5 finish and the fastest run time, whilst good on paper and a small semblance of a return to form, still ate away at my fragile confidence. Based on my performance there last year, my expectations leading in to the race were far higher than what eventuated. No matter how much of a forward step on the preceding few months, it still did not reflect where I knew I was at, or had been at in training. And so the rough patch continued.

Four days after returning to Australia from Mauritius, I boarded a plane to Spain and thirty three hours later, my triathlon slump was suddenly and unexpectedly put majorly in perspective. The world, and our family had lost an amazing man just as I had landed in Spain. It highlights how fickle life can be. It also made my triathlon dramatics seem so small. I was out there doing what I loved, and that should have been all that mattered. Life is short, life can change in the blink of an eye, it can even disappear altogether. Enjoy what you do.   

And thus it was time to find the enjoyment again. To make life simple again. Simple enjoyment. I went to New York to race the New York Triathlon with only the simplest of orders from my coach - “enjoy yourself”. And I took him at his word. But 8km into the bike, with each revolution of my rapidly flattening tyre, the task of enjoying myself became a little more difficult. And then, with each step of the journey back to T1 to get my runners (dragging my un-rideable bike in tow), and then the next mile to the finish line to collect my clothing bag, and then the next mile back to my hotel, a positive attitude was getting harder and harder to muster. “How long do I have to keep being resilient for?”

But hello, I was in New York City. The city wasn’t going to keep me down for long. Some supportive words from home and a fabulous afternoon spent exploring New York, ending with a yummy dinner at the Gramercy Tavern, was the best possible cure for my blues – thank you, Caroline! And slowly but surely, with New York City flowing through my veins, I started to rebuild mentally. I flew out of JFK the next day with a tiny voice in my head urging me on. It told me to keep life simple. To get back to Spain and to simply keep turning up. Eventually the tide would turn.

I didn’t have to wait long to give it all another shot. 48 hours after landing in Spain from New York, I was boarding a flight back to London, en route to France for the 5150 Triathlon in Marseille. With a consistent message from all in my support network, I went to Marseille to have fun. With team mate and friend, Will C in tow, that wasn’t a hard task. Race morning came, and the still and hot conditions had given way to a typical Melbourne morning. The winds were blowing a gale, and the water was grey and choppy to the point of completely swallowing the massive yellow buoys. But for some reason, I didn’t worry. In my mind, I was standing around at Williamstown beach in January, waiting for the start of a 1500m open water swim in what were just everyday conditions back home. Mental hurdle number one successfully navigated. The next came in the way of a mountain. Literally. The bike course included roughly a 10km mountain climb – ascending and descending obviously – and on TT bikes given this was a non-drafting pro race. My TT bike and I had never encountered a mountain together and so, with the words of one of my training partners from my last squad ringing in my ears - “it’s just a bike. Ride it!!!” - I faked it. I pretended I hadn’t just missed three weeks of bike training. I pretended I could ascend and descend mountains on a TT bike (although I obviously wasn’t too successful at faking the descending part given comments by a German competitor of mine post race – oops). And the run, I just ran. Simple. Every time I started to hurt, I told myself to look around at where I was racing. Enjoy it. Those were the only orders. Simple. Enjoy what you’re doing. I finished third pro female and third female overall with the fastest female run split of the day (36.20 for the 10km). I crossed the finish line, and smiled a sigh of relief. Finally.

I may be slowly learning how to make life simpler. Some things may slowly be starting to make sense. But I’ll never grow out of Bob’s Burgers. I’ll never stop loving the simpleness it represents. It’s light, it’s simple, it makes me laugh and I think everyone needs a little bit of that in their life.

The Penrose Staircase ... (Season 2015 begins)

When Lionel and Roger Penrose created the Penrose Staircase in the late 1950s, finding its parallels with how we feel during many of life’s challenges was certainly not their intended purpose. However, the optical illusion provided by this impossible object, is exactly what springs to mind when I view the journey of an Elite athlete.

Visually, the Penrose staircase presents a staircase with four 90 degree corners. The stairs form a continuous loop. In effect therefore, you can continually climb the stairs only to appear right back at the beginning. But it’s important to remember that the Penrose staircase is just an optical illusion, it’s an impossible object. In reality, progress is made, times do come down, and athlete evolution does take place. But in stepping up to racing the best girls in the sport, sometimes this progress can be disguised, masked, and lost amidst expectations and perceptions that too are evolving. It can seem like you’ve climbed so many stairs, only to be starring once again at that optical illusion, feeling like you’re simply right back at the beginning again…. But of course you’re not.

 

This recent Australian summer was only my second off season as a triathlete and certainly my first covering as many miles as I did, and working as hard as I did. Honestly, almost every day started with the same irrational fear that I might not make it through the day, and then almost every day would end with the same sense of disbelief – did I really just survive that?! As far as likening this experience to a staircase, well I felt like I’d basically spent 10 weeks climbing all 163 floors of the Burj Khalifa in Dubai. And so, eager to start the season and allow myself the rewards of all this hard work, to apply all those personal best training sessions to a competitive environment, I went to New Zealand for my first ITU race of the season. And it was a total debacle. I was devastated and I truly felt that I had fallen victim to a Penrose staircase. I had climbed, I had endured, I had surprised myself day in and day out with my performances at training, to only end up right back at the beginning. In effect, that’s honestly exactly what it felt like. In reality, that was a ridiculous conclusion to come to. One race does not erase all the personal best times in the pool and on the bike. It doesn’t deem the competitive results at local events, against Olympic and World Championship athletes, irrelevant. Especially when on watching footage, it’s quite embarrassingly obvious that there were some serious navigational issues in the swim which contributed to the debacle (including, at one point, swimming frantically in the opposite direction to that which the rest of the field were heading). Once I stepped back, and saw the failure for what it was - an optical illusion - only then was I ready to move on.

The very next week, with some extra fire in my belly and something to prove, I went to the Caloundra Gatorade triathlon. Despite the local nature of the race, it was very much an international level field, highlighted by the Commonwealth Games silver medallist no less. There too were no less than seven girls who’d raced World Cup level. It was the perfect low profile, but competitive environment in which to truly file the previous weekend away as an aberration. I came out of the water within a stone’s throw of girls that had decimated me a week earlier. I could have stopped right there. I’d just shown myself that I had improved over the summer. The hours in the chlorine had made a difference. This was no Penrose staircase. Compared to my first off season, I had climbed to a higher level. I finished the race in 5^th, with a run split only 6 seconds shy of that run by first and second. The race had served its purpose and it was a relief.

And so I was beginning to see through the optical illusion. I was starting to see that the Penrose staircase was penetrable. And lucky that, as the Oceania Elite Olympic Distance Championships loomed not quite a fortnight later. As is fast becoming a pattern, the fields this year are a whole lot stronger compared with last year as Olympic qualification points are up for grabs. There’s a clear desperation this year, with even Olympic medallists racing wherever they have to, just to get the points they need. Devonport was no exception, especially with the double points on offer from it being a Continental Championship. The composition of the field coupled with it being Olympic Distance (1500m swim) had the potential to leave me very exposed, and potentially in for a pretty rough day. I knew this going in though and I was prepared for it. The relief and excitement then when I managed to pull out my best swim ever, providing me the opportunity to not just time trial my way back into the race but actually work with a pack from almost the very beginning of the bike. As someone used to bridging on the bike and running through the field for my results, this was a huge step in the right direction for me. I surpassed my expectation in finishing 13^th, and within the all-important 8% threshold to take home a valuable parcel of ITU ranking points. There is a long year ahead and this is only month one of ten on the road, racing. There is a lot of work yet to be done but what Devonport represented for me, was progress. It proved myself wrong to think that I’d gone forward over summer, to simply only arrive back at the beginning. And it proved my coach right, that I just need to trust the process and keep at it.        

Elite sport isn’t easy. It can, at times, feel like ten steps forward, twelve steps backward. But no hard work goes unrewarded at the end of the day. Additionally, even a bad day can provide its own form of progress. It may feel like we’re continually stuck in a loop, continually climbing a Penrose staircase, but that’s only because we’re athletes. By nature, we’re irrationally negative on the slightest hint of a bad race, or a bad session. But get over that, see the bigger picture and suddenly, you’re starring down the staircase, way down, at where you actually, truly, once were.