As you could probably tell by my recent Facebook post under the alias of #MCPHERSONTRI, I recently ventured around the east coast of the North Island by bicycle and could possibly take up body building (#hastags may be becoming a thing of the past but that doesn’t stop me downloading MTV’s top 40 each week. It also allows you to keep up with my progress with one simple click).
Confession: Although I did not complete the full 480km by bike (due to a series of important races coming up) , I did manage approximately 265km. This did mean I received a huge amount of slack from other riders, including my coach Stephen “I hardly ever train” Sheldrake, who in fact sets my training programs. Regardless of this, day one (Gisborne to Hicks Bay) saw me go Lance Armstrong on everybody’s arse, dropping people like a bad habit over the last 30km which included approximately 1000m of climbing. A quick stop over with the humourous locals for the night left everyone a little on edge because of no cell phone coverage/ social media, meaning everyone had to partake in conversation, we packed up and headed to Opotiki. Day two consisted of a “who had the biggest ego” competition that resulted in all out modern warfare between Craig “Im a social rider” Hoskin, the museli bar kids and Mr Sheldrake. After missing most of the beautiful scenery due to spending the majority of the ride looking at my shoes (head down chasing) , I returned to the safety of a nicely air-conditioned chase vehicle after 110km. The ride was complete and I enjoyed a lovely bbq with the rest of the Gisborne Cycling Club, stuffing myself full like I hadn’t been feed in a week. Day three we returned back through the Waioweka Gorge via Matawai to Gisborne. A few toys were thrown from cots early on before enduring a social 70km downhill back home. Feet were put up on the side of the Jacuzzi, while a sombre Celine Dion played blissfully in the background as this blog began to take shape.
Kinloch OU Oceania Sprint Triathlon Championship. Judging by the length of the title, I’m sure you can begin to comprehend the importance of what is about to take place and be written before you. I arrived in the spectacular place that is Kinloch last weekend and moved into a generously offered accommodation block. And by block I mean a one metre squared room to be shared by two. After escaping from Harry Potters bedroom, Will and I headed off to briefing where a boxing like pre match stare down begins, only this time with 40 others. Dinner was inhaled prior to schooling some juniors in trivial pursuits, then we made our way back to bed.
As a kid, outside rolling in the mud, when Mum used to throw you quickly through a quick rinse cycle in the washing machine before dinner, this is somewhat the experience faced on the start line of an ITU race. Turn one, if not taken cleanly, felt like a mad dash of teenage girls fighting over and under each other to reach the next buoy being Harry Styles. Swim packs were formed and to my disappointment I landed myself in pack three. We were sent out like soldiers onto a wet technical bike course (five hairpins and a treacherous descend x5) several falling victim to the conditions. The majority of the ride was spent on the front driving the pace with Aiden Dunster, ultimately wearing our legs out to little result before the run. Some pride was salvaged during the run, finishing a little over half way up the scoreboard.
Kinloch’s race had played out by the theory of ‘train like Tarzan race like Jane’ ,so after further mental preparation I shall be swinging back in the trees in no time.
“It ain’t about how hard you hit. It’s about how hard you can get hit and keep moving forward; how much you can take and keep moving forward. That’s how winning is done “ -Rocky Balboa
Stay tuned until next time..... FOBF out