Just a few days now since the biggest (in terms of distance) race of my life and I couldn’t be more enthusiastic about never putting my body or mind through that again, I think. I was set in a two man team, reasons shown in recently posted training videos and below, to complete the 65km mountain bike, 17km off road run, 52km road cycle, 27km kayak (Garth Spencer paddled it), 8km cycle, 3km run before a short interview that make much didn’t sense, followed by some thumb sucking in the foetal position. In preparation I fought back against the kindergarten learn to swim kids, tamed the retirement village residence on the bike and chased the fresh meat around the Gisborne high country (in reference to sheep not school) and also bought a mountain bike (could come in handy with the first leg being a 65km MTB).
After paying out just over $1 at the TAB for cracking in the first stage (65km MTB) I was out to prove a point. So as all little fish would being let out into a sea of Marlins I attacked, within the first hour, on the first of three climbs, this one stretching 8km. For the record just before the top I sat up to let Poster boy (Stephen Sheldrake) back on and received some valuable words of advice, “It’s a long day remember boy”. After yo-yoing for a bit with The Terminator (Craig Hoskin), I found myself on the last descent in a group of three. Following some drifting Sean Boswell would be proud of and a few close calls I was back to the safety of transition. I changed my undies and footwear and I was out on the run. 5km in my bladder was bursting at the seams. Do I stop or do I go in my shorts risking chaffing and some stank? I choose on a mixture of both. I stopped to hang it out of my shorts, then thought, oh no what if someone catches me, so I started a little shuffle on. Fast enough to be moving but slow enough not to spill it on my Brooks shoes or down my front. 4km from the end of the run I was now starting to realise what Poster boy had been talking about. My legs were starting to regret getting out of bed this morning. My mother and father were there to greet me in transition again and lift me onto my bike. Dad had been having an entire conversation regarding food and drinks for this 52km road bike leg but all I could focus on was what direction was forward and how I was to stay on my bike for the next 90mins. This leg should’ve been right up my alleyway but the lows and lowers I experienced, I was just happy to be at the other end. My transponder was passed onto Garth Spencer who completed a phenomenal paddle before coming back to shore for me to finish it off. The 1 hour 45 was just enough time to gather my marbles and regain some feeling back into my legs as I stormed back into town. I stopped the clock in just over 7 hours 25min. First two man team and third overall behind two start studded four man teams.
That concludes my version of how Motu Challenge played out. Still to come reasons for being unable to complete the solo.
Being in the box – that feeling when you could just fall down and stay there until mum comes to pick you up. On a scale of 1-10 (1 being a box of fluffy ducks and 10 being dead).
As you will find most other sportspeople, who write blogs, will generally, sooner or later, give you a play by play of ‘A Day in the Life of’. So for this story that is precisely what I am about to do, but hopefully with a slightly more amusing twist.
Bare with me now as I attempt to set the scene and or picture of prior few days leading in. It was Saturday 23rd of August 2012, my day started much like all other Saturdays since I have been in Gisborne with a very relaxing 2 hour pool swimming session (said no one ever) followed by the usual smash fest 3½ hour cycle and gentle 15min run off. This cycle however was slightly more difficult than the norm with it being the first club race of the season and hurricane (whatever letter in the alphabet we are up to) baring in on us. My common sense prevailed and I found myself in a three man break coming into the closing stages of the race. Having lit all my matches helping establish the break I found myself swinging for the final few kilometres. After this I only had to get home, get someone to tie up my shoe laces for me and head off on my run. Updating you as to that picture, as stated above I am now in the box but luckily it was big enough with room to move (approx. 8.5). Sunday, you guessed it, I had another minor race this time a duathlon preparing myself for the following weekends Duathlon National Championships. I started out as hard as I could just to see how long I could hold on (average HR 186). Naturally in the shower after I passed (number 1s) what seemed to be a small dose of what I could only describe as either my body slowly shutting down or lack of fluid out onto the shower floor #blood. Picture = still in the box this one though was close to going 6feet under (approx.9.25).
Luckily Monday was a recovery day followed by...
A day in the life of Kieran McPherson Triathlete. Tuesday morning starts with a 15 minute sleep in so the alarm usually goes off around 5.30am. I head down to the Enterprise Pools where I meet with many of my fellow swim squad members (those mean young girls from my previous blog). This morning we have a dry land routine which generally consists of a series of body weight and medicine ball exercises around the pool. The session started on cue with some friendly banter and my usual... ^insert onomatopoeia here^ I kneel over clutching my ribcage. It feels like I have just broken my ribs whilst simultaneously deflated a lung, yet on later analysis by some guy with a medical degree, it is declared as an intercostals strain. Anyway back to the story at hand after finally being convinced to go to the hospital, due to breathing difficulties, I got in the car with national surf lifesaving representative and world champion, Matt Scott. Two clutches and a gearbox later we had made it. After a topless X-Ray by a “lovely young nurse” (no sarcasm intended) and a vial full of morphine my endorphin levels were right back up to where it would’ve been, having finished my training session. This rest of the day was spent on the couch in front of the telly having handfuls of painkillers by the hour. That pretty much sums up an adventurous but typical day in the life of me, training as a professional triathlete.
Thank you for reading I hope you enjoyed it.
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