Last weekend I crossed the line second in the Ironman 70.3
Gurye in South Korea. It was just my fifth race over the distance, my second
podium for the distance and my first in an Ironman branded event. I was more
than satisfied with that result. After all, I had gone into the race thinking third
or fourth would have been my eventual finishing place. So a second place was
above expectation and a result with which I was more than happy …. But a few
people close to me remarked over the following 48 hours that I should have been
happier than I appeared to be. It wasn’t that I was sulking around but rather that
I should have seemed happier. Even a training buddy and close friend of mine
said he’d been slightly annoyed with how not overjoyed I had appeared in the afternoon
after the race. I knew inside that I was more than content with the result, but
the observers were right; I wasn’t feeling the way even I would have expected following
such a result. It made me realise that results and performances are so much
more complex than a simple finishing number. So much more. You can still be
absolutely thrilled with a finishing place (an outcome), but there are so many
more variables at play when you finish a race than just what place you have
finished…And this became an interesting train of thought that nicely occupied
me over the 36 hour journey home.
Sunday was a
battle for me. One of those races that are just tough. We’ve all had those
days. In over four and a half hours, I didn’t feel any form of rhythm. Not even
once. I was fighting the pedals all day on the bike, constantly getting out of
the saddle just to try to increase the momentum. My Di2 was jumping constantly,
leaving me only two gears to ride in safely. It frustrated me. But on I
battled. It was just a long, tough day out. I applied every mental game I’ve
ever played on myself to get through. Make no mistake, this description is the
furthest thing from an excuse (remember, I am actually thrilled with the
finishing place), but rather an explanation for a battle weary athlete crossing
the line.
Reason
number one for a lower than expected level of joy and excitement: I was oh so battle weary.
There was
also a hint of disappointment in my own personal performance, falling short of
prior performances, especially on the bike. This disappointment was completely
and utterly, 100% independent from the finishing place because a personal best
performance still wouldn’t have changed the end result, or even come close to
it. It is the distinction between a “performance” and a “result”. I was
thrilled with the “result”, but disappointed with my “performance”. That
actually IS possible. Remember, it’s not black and white. It’s not simple. And
it shows how much athletes are often driven more by personal bests than by
results.
Reason
number two for a lower than expected level of joy and excitement: I was somewhat disappointment in my own personal “performance”
The journey
to and from Gurye in South Korea was nothing short of epic. It was a beautiful
place, but to achieve such beauty, it really was quite isolated. There was only
a limited number of shuttles for the four hour bus trip to/from Incheon airport
so flights etc had to be planned around a very set bus timetable. This meant
that we actually had to be on a bus within five hours of finishing the half
ironman on Sunday. In that five hours, we had a soft presentation, waited for
our bikes to be released from T2, returned to our accommodation (10km away) to
pack our bikes, returned to the race venue for the official awards ceremony, and
returned again to the accommodation in time for the four hour bus trip back to
Incheon. Arriving at our airport hotel at Incheon at midnight, and being up for
morning flights the next morning back to Hong Kong to then endure a seven hour
layover before an overnight flight back home to Melbourne. You can understand
then that upon finishing the race, my thoughts were not so much with the result
but rather the mammoth task ahead to get back home. There was no nap time, no
time for substantial food – just a few ice creams from the convenience store.
By the time I boarded the shuttle that evening, I was sore, hungry and
exhausted. Good result or not, nothing would change that. This is often the
life of a pro athlete: finish a race, and get going …although I usually depart
the following morning which is at least long enough to have an afternoon nap
and some good food the evening post race. Unless generous flight and race
schedules allow, there is rarely time to bask in the glory of a race well done.
It’s pack up and move on home, to recover and prepare for the next job. The
demanding nature of this particular journey home however, was the most dramatic
example of this that I’ve so far encountered.
Reason
number three for a lower than expected level of joy and excitement: I could
think of nothing but the mammoth task ahead of being
ready for that evening’s bus ride, and the long, fiddly journey home. Add to
that increasing exhaustion and hunger…
You see, a result
itself is just an outcome. It’s one cog in a massive wheel – arguably the
most important cog, but just one nonetheless. There is so much more to a day
out racing. It is so much more complex, and we as athletes are also complex
creatures. A great outcome can be brought about by a less than ideal “performance”,
while a personal best performance can yield an - on paper – less than
impressive result. Other factors too come into play: exhaustion, tiredness,
hunger, stress. All these too can cripple excitement upon achieving a sought
after outcome. Over time though, these other factors do fade, and the one thing
remaining is the result. It’s through this process that I’m probably now
feeling the way I “should” have on Sunday – it just took me a number of days.
