It is a rare day of rest here in the land of Napoleon. Claire has spent the day reading a book (make that two) and I have been lounging around under a beautifully blue sky. It was here that thought came to me that it is about time that I sent through an update of recent goings on.

Embrunman took place last weekend but unfortunately I was not on the start line. Congratulations to Marcel Zamora who for the second year in a row pulled off the formidable double of Ironman France and then Embrunman. Having tried to get myself to both races in top condition this year, I can appreciate the enormity of the task that was flawlessly completed by Marcel. For me – I struggled to get back into form following Nice and had to make the hard decision to skip Embrun. So an iconic race passed but as the Embrun door closed, two others opened.

First I have Tristar Monaco on 5 September – an exciting race for a number of reasons. The distances are tailored to the biker with little more than a 1k swim and a 10k run sandwiching a 100k bike on a hilly and technical course. But, to the point, without doubt the most exciting thing about the day will be the run which takes in part of the historic Formula 1 course – including the famous Monaco tunnel!!! Lookout as I try to recreate the scenes of Senna, Schumacher and now Weber (recent winner at Monaco – great work Aussie!) as I do my best to rocket through the tunnel at terrifying and death-defying (run) speeds.

Two weeks after Monaco is the first ever Mont Ventoux triathlon (3k swim / 140k bike / 30k run). This promises to be an epic race. Ventoux is a beast! I went out and did some course reconnaissance yesterday and came home a broken man. 21 kilometres of brutal, hot and windy climbing left me wondering whether is perhaps another race I could do instead – maybe something a little more friendly and perhaps just a little less soul destroying. But that was just my brain going AWOL amidst a cloud of altitude and oxygen deprivation. Ventoux is an icon of Provence and a mountain that I have always loved so the show must go on.

In other news I have been working hard on my swim after my rather dismal aquatic performance at Nice. My favourite session of late is Friday’s swim set with long-time French pro Francois Chabaud and a small crew of others. Warm up is followed by 20 times 100 metres alternating between freestyle and medley. With Francois leading the way and he being equally determined to improve his swim after a few performances of which he was not satisfied – the pace is high and the rest is but a moment of brevity.

After this we are on the pool deck for 6 series of strength work with elastic cords. 30 seconds work / 30 seconds rest – this is one of those things that seems easy but in reality is anything but. Towards the end I struggle just to get through 30 seconds. After the elastic work it is back into the water for 500m pull with our deadened arms and shoulders. Usually there is 3 to 4 of us and we each swap turns at the front every 50 metres to keep the pace high and to simulate race conditions. We normally do the whole elastic / pull set twice through before calling it a day. It is a great session as it keeps things interesting and it sure is hard work.

Hopefully all this work, and a little rest just like today, pays dividends come race day.

The gentle climbs of the Nice bike course - a distant memory after having climbed Ventoux!

As alluded to by Raymond in an earlier post, I am extremely happy to be able to let you know of a new sponsorship arrangement that I have developed with Hornet Juice. Hornet Juice is a sports drink containing amino acids that you take before, during and after training to give you greater energy, endurance and improved recovery time. The key to Hornet Juice is that it works as a trigger for the oxidation of fat which can then provide you with an abundant source of long lasting energy – perfect for Ironman training and racing as well as any other endurance events.  

The reason I am so happy to announce this is because I have found Hornet Juice to be a really great product and one that I would use whether being sponsored or not. It was only after I had written to Hornet Juice telling them of how much I liked their drink that they then agreed to sponsor me.

Long time readers of my blog will know that ever since I started my journey to Ironman France many months ago that the biggest problem I faced was becoming more efficient on the bike and in the run.  For those that don’t know, the story in a nutshell is this:  In December 2009, I was tested for my physical capacities for the bike and run. The test results showed that I had some good strength and fitness in both disciplines but that I was way too over-reliant on glucose (or carbohydrate) stores to power me. The bad news with this is that racing an Ironman is about being as efficient as possible.

At the start of an Ironman you have a full tank of fuel in the form of glucose but this tank gets depleted rapidly throughout the day and it is simply not possible to replace all that is burned through consumption. This is why one of the keys to Ironman performance is in maximising your body’s ability to burn fats. Gram for gram, fats contain far more fuel than carbohydrates so it is critical to be able to access this vast fuel source.

As I started my journey to becoming more efficient I did a lot of research and as a result I made many changes to the way I trained and what I ate and drank. One of those changes was that I started using Hornet Juice.

Once I had started using Hornet Juice I noticed that I felt a lot stronger on long rides and this was especially so in the last one to two hours of a five or six hour bike session. Instead of fading to a withering mess on wheels in the dying kilometres, I noticed that I always felt I could keep riding strong for, well almost forever. I also noticed that using Hornet Juice helped me recover so much better and worked really well in avoiding the muscle soreness that comes the day after a hard session.

So I had this feeling that Hornet Juice was working well for me. But a few things I noticed recently really prove the point in my mind of just how good the product is.

I used Hornet Juice during Ironman France and in my post-race analysis of my performance I noticed that relative to my competitors, I performed very well on the bike during the final 60 kilometres. To me this indicates that I had plenty of energy left in the latter portion of the bike leg while others were rapidly running out.

Last week I underwent another physical capacity test on the bike. In my first test in December 2009, we found that the point at which my body switched from being a predominant fat burner to an inefficient glucose burner was at about 225 watts. In the test of last week, we found that instead of this switch happening at 225 watts it now happens at 375 watts. This means that I can now ride up to an intensity of 375 watts all the while my body is efficiently burning fats as its predominant fuel source thus sparing precious glucose stores and helping them last longer.

No doubt that there is a number of reasons behind these results but I can confidently say that the use of Hornet Juice is one of the more critical factors that brought about these outcomes.

So, I have had some great success with Hornet Juice. If you are looking for something to give you a bit of performance boost then I encourage you to give it a go. If you do, please let me know how you go. I would love to hear your story. Also, please get in touch if you have any questions. I am happy to help where possible.

Check out www.hornetjuice.com

Thanks for reading and happy training.

I never know what to write about after a race but I guess I can hardly whimp out of this one given the tremendous support I have received from all of you in recent times. So here goes….

From my point of view the race was a big success for many reasons, some of which may not be apparent from a quick scan of the results page. The goal of 9hrs in Nice was just that – 9hrs flat – not 9hrs 17min or so but I am not dissapointed for I feel that I raced well and raced pretty close to my ability.

However, while I blogged away about the ’9 in Nice’ challenge, for Claire and I, the deeper and perhaps more audacious goal that was kept secret for nothing more than fear of going public was for a top-10 finish. A goal that I thought would be a pretty fair test. Certainly tough to reach but in my heart I thought it doable. Certainly it was a goal that did bring its share of race day nerves particularly as the strength of the pro field seemed to steadily grow in both quality and quantity during the weeks leading to race day.

Still I knew I was training well. After getting smacked around in plenty of early season races, my form seemed to come good in the last 2-3 weeks before race day. Some good results started to come my way and some rock solid training sessions were carried out with a hint of relative ease. Good signs.

I did not reach my goal of top-10 but as they say, shoot for the the moon and you never know, you might land among the stars. 12th place is something that I am very happy with.

Most of all though, I am happy with how I raced. Ironman France was my first Ironman in 18 months. And it was my first Ironman with a bike course that included more climbing that a sherpa family holiday. In the weeks before the race I had many sleepless nights and awoke many mornings nervous with butterflies flying rampant in my stomach. Mainly because it is just so different racing on courses like these and I did not know how I would go. Also because I knew that to do well in Nice, I would have to really ‘race’ the ironman and its competitors rather than just pace my way through a long day as I had done in my past ironman campaigns.

On a course like the one at Nice, it is just the way it is that sometimes you have to bike hard to make a climb or stay in contact with others ahead and sometimes you have to know when to sit up and wait for support from behind. You have to know how to ride the flats, the short climbs, the long climbs, the descents, the corners, and the wind. And after this, well you still have to run a marathon.

So as I say, I felt I raced well and it is for this that I am most happy with. My taper worked well. My nutrition worked well. My pacing worked well. I was able to race and make some good decisions along the way. And my intensity and desire that had been missing in action during some early season races were where I needed them to be on the big day.

So to all of you who have emailed, texted, called, sent positive vibes or even just read my ramblings – Thank You – all of you help me to stay motivated and race hard, perhaps more so than you think.

To Claire, my number one supporter, I need only say this, we did it together! Thank you very much my love.

To Ray who has helped me under the auspices of BYL for many years, thank you so much.

To Nico, JB and Gill at ESP. You guys have been the brains behind this whole operation. Thank you. It is hard not to do well with guys like you in my corner.

To all at Triathl’aix who have welcomed me warmly and helped me settle into the training and racing life in France – merci beaucoup!

And to my team of Aussie bike mechanics and a willing mule who carried a set of wheels over 14,000 km just so that I could have have the luxuray of a choice of wheels to use come race day – a huge thank you! Looking forward to a cold beer with you all once back in Perth.

Next stop – Embrunman. If you don’t know it, check out www.embrunman.com

And this time I will say it – the goal: top 10.

When the smooth talking Mr Pomery spoke these words to Claire and I on that magic day some two and half years ago he failed to mention the correct marital protocol to deal with sickness of one’s spouse in the week before ironman. And me being overcome with joy and excitement (and possibly a little alcohol) failed to ask the question of our all-knowing expert in things marriage and triathlon related. My mistake.

So when Claire came down with a nasty bug earlier this week that has left her bed ridden for the best part of three days, so began a mad search through the fine print of the rules governing our marriage. For those interested, I can tell you that the Commonwealth Government Marriage Act 1961 makes for a fascinating read – all 98 pages of it. But amongst its wordy pages, there is nothing on the subject of pre-ironman sickness and whether such constitutes grounds for divorce or some sort of temporary separation. Surely with the ever-growing popularity of triathlon and in particular ironman, this constitutes a cavernous oversight that our lawmakers ought to amend sooner rather than later.

So with no legislative guidance to be found on the matter. Claire and I resorted to the last option in any good marriage. We talked. We decided that divorce may be just a little over the top (though surely not by much) and that neither of us could be bothered with the paperwork (I thought it paricular unfair to have to do such paperwork in the week before ironman). Besides, the thought of trying to divide up our cd collection that currently resides in our shed in perth whilst both living in france was just too difficult to contemplate.

We decided to resort to option two. We downloaded that Australian Customs Service Quarantine Manual and set about implementing each and every action item in a precise and methodical manner that would satisfy even the sternest of those among our army law-enforcing customs officials.

So the past few days has brough a few small changes to our normal marital life.

All physical contact has been strictly forbidden. Meals have been prepared whilst wearing facial masks and consumed lengthways across the table. Toothbrushes that have been accustomed to living together in the same glass have been relocated so as to be a minimum of two metres apart. And all romantic activities have been curtailed as we have each sought the refuge of sleep from different beds in different rooms. Communication, that other mainstay of marriage, has been limited to skype and facebook messaging only.

So far our zest for rules and regulations appears to be working. We are four days from ironman and I am yet to catch a sniffle. As for the health of our marital life, well yes perhaps we have incurred a little collateral damage but surely it is nothing that cannot be patched up (not before, but after the race of course). As far as I know, Claire still thinks of me of her husband in some vague kind of way. And I too think of her as my (somewhat removed) wife.

If any of you happen to have any communication with Claire, be it by phone, internet or some other such means, please do tell her I love her and that I miss her. And I do hope that she gets better soon. Lord knows, I need someone to help carry my kitbag come race day.

In health, the good old days

Fellow blog reader(s). I am afraid I have had another one of my ‘writing moments’. After getting home from training today, I sat down in front of the computer and spewed out this lengthy collection of words. Take it as you like and please ignore it you choose. I do not mind. It is what it is. Something I wrote quickly to capture my emotions of the time and something that comes straight from the heart.

After 4 hours on the bike we come across a fork in the road. The sign pointing left is as simple and plain as any other street sign in France. It reads ‘Lagarde d’Apt 12′. No more, no less. We make the turn and the road begrudgingly starts to rise skyward.

Today, we is Nico, Francois and myself. Outings with these guys are a gift to me and it is for this that they come with a sense of excitement but it is an excitement that is mixed the heavy scent of fear. Their class on the bike is second to none and their strength is beyond anything I have ever witnessed first hand.

Now the three of us face the 12 kilometre ascent of Lagarde d’Apt.

Lagarde d’Apt has no history that I am aware of. It is not the scene of some epic Tour battle, not the stage to a deciding moment in an athlete’s life, nor of a star’s fall from grace. Almost fittingly it is not a mountain with a name that carries with it some sense of giant foreboding – it is no Galibier, Tourmalet or Hautacam.

Not one inch of its 12 kilomtres wears any cycling related graffiti, not even from amateur races – no arrows; no words of encouragement stencilled to the road by loved ones; not even a line signifying ‘Grand Prix Montagne’ as is so common in these parts. It is nothing and it has nothing. But somehow this makes it everything.

Today was my second time up Lagarde. My first outing was also with Nico and some boys from the local cycling club. It was a day that left my ego in tatters. On that day I was schooled on the art of riding a bike. Unfortunately for me, I had until then thought that I knew a thing or two about riding bikes – but, it seems not. Today however, I felt better, happier, stronger and most importantly aware of what lie ahead.

What did lie ahead is unremarkable as all else to do with this mountain. Lagarde d’Apt climbs at the relatively gentle gradient of about 7 per cent. The problem however is this: The 7 per cent gradient is an absolute CONSTANT.

It is hands down the single most unrelenting climb that I have ever ridden. Even the much mystified and feared mountain known as Alpe d’huez has parts that are relatively benign. Sections where you shift down a few cogs so as to give your legs a different tune to dance to and likewise some steep parts that force you out of the saddle thus providing a much-needed change in pace and rythym. Even if you are unware of it at the time, such changes do wonders. This I now know. As they say, ‘you never miss your water til its dry’.

I stay with Nico for one, maybe two kilometres. Not more. The last words I say to him are, ‘Nico, you look too comfortable!’ ‘No!’ he replies with a smile as he rides off in front of me. The real climbing has started and I am hurting already. Damn this place – I have an unwelcome feeling of dejavu. Not again.

The climb continues but the gradient never changes. Francois is behind me somewhere. But this is little comfort. He probably has his chain steadfast in the big chain ring while doing some stregth work….most likely with one leg (his weak leg). Me on the other hand, I keep glancing to my rear casette in search of another gear – but there is none. Deep down I have always known this but sometimes hope is all you have.

The climb continues and my strength fades. Pretty soon, it is no longer about gracefully riding a bike. Instead I am in the midst of an ugly battle of desparation as I give all I can just to push each pedal down. Mu legs burn in mad protest with each grindingly slow revolution.

I dig deep inside of myself and I think of a woman I know. Her strength gives me hope and reason to fight.

It is not long before Francois passes me. He can see I am not in a good way.

‘Ca va Bill?!’

‘Oui ca va’ – I lie as big as any I ever told but it is all the french that I can muster.

‘Seulment deux kilometres!’ he yells encouragingly as he passes.

I am nearly broken. I stare at my shadow and together we climb, inch by painful inch. The weather is mild by Australian standards but sweat pours from my body. Salt stains my shorts and has formed a grisly white powder on my bike frame. In the distance, Francois looks strong and in control.

The dream of being a pro triathlete sounds glamourous but I am quickly learning just how hard it can be. As an amateur, it is easy to hide. I know because I did it all the time. Protecting my ego from truths that might sting. The amateur always has a ready arsenal of ‘could haves’ and ‘would haves’ but ‘did nots’: ‘work has been busy’, ‘I am too tired to train today’, ‘well I would have gone better you know, it is only a race’.

Now it is different.

There are no excuses. That eternal triathlon dream of being able to train all day is in my grasp but this brings with it a whole new set of challenges, and none of them are easy.

The gulf between me and the pros often seems impassable. Today is one of those days. Hell, Nico who is up the road somewhere is not even racing any more, let alone training. These guys have more race wins than I have race starts! Getting my mind to believe that I SHOULD BE and CAN BE riding and racing in the company of these guys is a big a challenge as any, and one that I have not worked out how to overcome yet.

I push on though because there is not much else to do. The guys will be waiting for me at the top. And the thought of one of them having to come back to collect me does not sit well. I try to stand on the pedals, in a vain effort to break the monotony of the climb, but my legs cannot support me and my bum crashes back into the saddle. I can think of many times when I have given my heart and soul to go fast on a bicyle but this climb has reached out and taken hold of my liver, kidney and spleen as well. What’s worse is that it is the second time it has done so. ‘I hate this place!’ I curse.

Eventually, I stop. Dead set in the middle of the road. I never done this before. Not in Alps, not in the Pyrenees, not in the climbs of Switzerland, Italy and definately not France. My brain snapped. It had had enough. I had given it an inch and it had taken a mile. It told my legs to stop working. ‘After all this was stupid, right?’ My legs agreed wholeheartedly.

As a salary man, I had always dreamed of being a professional athlete but now the thought of deadlines, phone calls, long days and nights in front of the computer seem almost attractive. At least I could do normal things with normal people. I could talk about the football, wives and girlfriends and social plans for the weekend. I could be done with this pain and sacrifice.

The woman I know tells me to get on with it.

She is not a cyclist but if she had of been one, she would have kicked this climb in the teeth by now and given it a word or two to get on with.

She has the type of courage and bravery that makes riding a bike seem like child’s play. And in all reality – it is. Like nobody else I know, she knows how to suffer; how to endure; and how to face the fears that stare you directly in the eyes. She is nothing short of remarkable and she is an inspiration to me. For in a life that dealt her a cruel, cruel hand – she never gave up, never looked back and never stopped loving.

I start moving again and eventually I drag my weary bones toward the top of the climb. I see Nico and Francois sitting on the grass leaning against a fence. Two bikes lie casually beside them. The only thing missing from the picture is picnic rug and a round of sandwiches, and maybe a cigar or two.

I reach the peak and look to the skies.

Today you have given me strength. A strength to continue to chase my dream no matter how far off it may seem. A strength to live life to the best of my ability and a strength to never forget just how lucky I am to be where I am today.

Thank you mum. I love and I miss you.

And happy birthday.

A few weeks back, Team BYL France broke a few personal limits in completing two races in the space of one weekend but now after a few weeks of comfortable reflection and navel gazing we have concluded that two races in one weekend is really a little ‘old hat’ so tomorrow we head further into new ground as we get set to embark on the challenge of two races in one day.

Race 1: A 3km ocean swim that will see us boated over to some remote island and left with no other option but to swim to shore Alcatraz style.

Race 2: An Olympic distance triathlon that includes a little detour up Mt Feron (a rather jolie 5k ascent with at 10% gradient).

The beauty of triathlon racing over here is that race start times are normally around 1pm thus giving you plenty of time to roll out of bed and enjoy your morning coffee and baguette before hitting race HQ. Or if you like, plenty of time to do something stupid like say an ocean swim race before frantically hitting the road gunning it to start line number two before the gun goes off (hmmm, maybe really there are three races tomorrow).

So the bags are packed and the Punto is stocked to its gills with equipment, clothes and food. Tomorrow’s triathlon will be my third in as many weeks while the swim race – well it will be my first since that fateful day when I decided to swim to Rotto with the Big Man they call Paddy Pops. For those of you who don’t know, this proved to be one of the worst decisions I have ever made in my 30+ years on this earth so pray with me as I look to the heavans and ask the Man up there for nothing more than calm waters tomorrow……and a damn good beer and pizza tomorrow night!

I write this fresh from my second tour of duty around the roller coaster ride they call the IM Nice bike course. Even the second time around the thing is absolutely epic. Today I hooked up with Axel Zeebroek. Axel has a list of triathlon accomplishments as long as the 180k bike course that we just rode today, including my personal favourite of being the first off the bike in the Beijing Olympic Games – if that were me, I’d just retire on that laurel and live happily ever after!

Axel has historically been a short course dude, but unfortunately for us ironman sloths he has shifted to the long stuff and he has bought his speed with him…..lookout come race day! My aching legs tell me that the kid is in some seriously good form.

But I digress – I wanted to put a few words together to wish all the BYL crew the very best for the Busso Half this weekend. But seeing that my brain is about as fried as my legs, I have rather cleverly decided to pilfer somebody elses well crafted words. The paras below come straight from pro triathlete John Hirsch (check him out at www.johnhirsch.org). It is a message he wrote for a close friend of his who was about to embark on that challenge they call Ironman. John says it is a form of love (triathlon style) but you can decide for yourself. I like it for its orignality – hope you do to and I hope it helps you get through those bad patches that sometimes hit come race day.

You put all of yourself into this race. You OWE IT to the universe to bury yourself. I am the hand and fist of the universe here to guild you. So know this: If you can walk afterwards be prepared to fight me, because I am carrying you after the race home one way or another. You don’t leave it all out there we go to blows. I got my media pass so I will be right at the finish line. You cross it being chipper and strong we throw down before you even get a medal.

You can leave it all on the course or get knocked the (expletive*) out at the finish line when I see you, but either way you are not walking home. You pick. I am fine either way. But you don’t start THAT day thinking there is any easy way THAT day goes. You start KNOWING and committed to a big hurt. I promise you, big hurt one way of another. Don’t test me, test yourself.

So there you go Raymond, perhaps an extra role for you to play in the Busso festivities? And for those racing, well enjoy and race hard for who knows, if you don’t you might upset the almighty man who now likes to call himself the ‘Lord of Fitness’. In my opinion it would be very unwise to upset this Lord as I have seen him on a bad day and I can tell you it ain’t pretty

Have fun!

* I am not up to speed on the BYL rules and regulations for posting expletives so have chosen to play the safe option as I too am not keen on upsetting the Lord.

The title of this blog about sums up our movements of late here in SUNNY France (at last…at long long last!). So as my blogging is far from regular, I will attempt here a little bit of en executive summary blog of the past few weeks. Perfect for those pressed for time, or simply would rather do other things than read this impending waffle.

St Tropez

Home to the rich and richer and perhaps one of France’s first triathlons of the year. St Tropez is truth be told a rather hideous place but I shall not dwell on this and instead get straight down to business. The triathlon was wet and windy, yes very windy. Not only was it my first triathlon of the year, it was also the first time I have swum in water at the rather refreshing temperature of 13 degrees. Add wind gusts of 40-60km per hour and the fact that from the start line we could see mountains covered in snow in the distance (not really conducive when trying to feel warm) and you have it. I swam ok, rode like a dying dog, and ran ok. The sprint distance surely throws me around and by the end of the race I was just starting to feel warmed up and good to go. Came home in 18th place, well off the pace of the speedsters that live in these parts (this is my third 18th place of the year….I am hoping this is not a sign of things to come!).

Nice

Claire and I headed to Nice for a day so that I could meet a couple of guys who were planing on doing a bit of IM bike course reconnaisance. As BYL master coach Ray will attest, the course at Nice is absolutely fantastic! A one lap course with climbs aplently and also descents, views, villages, farms, forests. This course has everything! Not at all like the courses we have back home. In reality this cours is a virtual stage of the Tour de France, rudely sandwiched between a swim and run. The thought of running a marathon after cycling the course is about as bizarre to me as watching the shleck brothers, cadel and lance donn the joggers after a hard day in the saddle – its crazy but I love it! No TT bikes and disc wheels needed here! (Fortunately there were only three of us that rode the course this day so I avoided coming home in 18th place).

Cassis

The Team headed to Cassis for a bit of R&R and to celebrate Claire’s birthday. Cassis is a truly beautiful place on the coast. And has all that a die-hard triathlete could possibly need. Great cycling, heaps of sheltered open water for swimming and some awesome trails that run up and down the coast. After a few hours in Cassis we were close to calling it our favourite place in France until we realised that it seems this is the favourite place of about half of france’s population. Yes, tourists everywhere but still, a lovely part of the world.

Apt

Yesterday we headed to Apt for a 142km cyclosportif event. A late decision to race was made as racing plans have been amended on the fly due to a few ‘legal grey areas’ about my rights to be here in france (I hope nobody from immigration reads this blog). We were planning to race in Portugal next weekend but have been advised that perhaps its best not to cross borders until there is a little more ‘clarity’ about my rights here. So anyway enough of the legal jargon – off to Apt we went for a bit of euro bike racing. I love this stuff and I think for the triathlete its great training. The riding is very different, with periods of excuciating speed and gut wrenching pain followed by calmness and peace as the peleton heaves and surges toward the finish line. I gave it all I could yesterday and this was the goal. And I narrowly avoided my fourth 18th of the year with a nicely timed 19th place. Not a bad effort but a little dissapoinitng. I definately need to improve my cycling nous and tactics so I can get up there and mix it with the best.

An annoying physics assignment

Yes this has nothing to do with swimming, biking or running or generally excercising until just before the point of death but it has been this that has prevented me from blogging for a few weeks. I am doing a bit of study on the side here, mostly out of fear of not knowing how on earth we will be able to earn enough to pay back the mortgage whenever we (or the bank) decides that this little adventure has to come to an end. But it’s done now, so all is good for the moment. But physics – well it’s pretty darn boring to me. I think I will leave that sort of stuff to the geeks that design our bikes, wheels and accessories.

I’d rather just ride

While Team BYL Perth spent the weekend working on their suntans, we at Team France felt the need to hold up the fort and so to kept ourselves busy with a weekend full of racing. The challenge: two races in two days and a little training thrown into the mix for good measure. What else are you supposed to do when not racing?

Day one – Saturday. The first race was ‘Les 10 Kilometres du Puy-Sainte-Reparade’. Having thoughtfully made race start at 2pm, the organisers provided the perfect opportunity for a little pre-race warm up. And so it was, on to the bike for a three hour stint at a solid pace. A nice little way to make sure the legs were nicely toasted (just in case the five hours of the previous day had not done the job sufficiently). While I was on the bike Claire packed the mighty Punto and headed to our rendez-vous – 15 minutes before race start and it was off with the bike gear and into the run gear. I had a good race and came home in a touch under 36 minutes (in 18th). Powered on by his new BYL shirt, Nico came in about minute ahead of me and Francois, like all good triathletes spent the morning complaining of tired legs before ripping out a casual 33 minutes for third place – nice!

In the company of giants - Francois on the left and Nico on the right

No sooner had we unpacked, washed and rested that it seemed like Sunday morning had arrived and it was time to do it all again. Race 2 was the ‘La Course du Coeurs’ – a 17 kilomtre run from the Cours Mirabeau, situated right in the heart of Aix (and rated the second most beautiful street in all of Europe!) to a nice little village by the name of Chateau Neuf Le Rouge.

The Cours Mirabeau - nice place for a race start

Unlike yesterday’s course, this one played a little more to my strengths. A stack of hills, a 5 kilomtre stretch of off-road running and a little more distance were sure to slow the pace down a little and put more of an emphasis on strength and endurance, rather than speed. I am very happy to say that I managed to get my first french podium with a third place and a time of 1 hour and 4 minutes and some. It was a great run for me and very pleasing to see that all the work we have been doing is paying off. All in all a great weekend of training and nice to have a solid 27 race kilometres in my legs. And a great way to finish off a very satisfying week.

Race winner Abdelali and me

The week just gone has been a big one with some highs and lows but such is the fickle nature of this game. And this brings me to the fact that there are many people who I must thank. So from here on in, this blog becomes little like a cliched post-match sporty interview – I apologise but I feel I must do this.

First of all the boys at ESP (Nico, JB and Gil). After some dissapointing test results on Monday the boys sharpened their pencils and pooled their collective knowledge to get to the bottom of what was going on. Hence I was back in the ‘lab’ on Thursday for four hours while the guys patiently and enthusiastically worked away like mad scientists. Two more tests were done followed by much analysis and in then end, we got some very pleasing results and we also gained some very valuable knowledge. I left the lab with high spirits and renewed motivation. Guys, you have been great and I cannot tell you how lucky I am to be part of your team. Thank you. 

The race just gone, was my first time at testing out the new BYL race outfit and I have to say that it is ‘da bomb!’. They say that the best gear is that which you don’t notice while racing or training. I have to say that while gutsing out a solid 17k, the suit worked brilliantly and I did not notice it all – no discomfort whatsoever. Ray, thank you! And thanks to 2XU and all who helped by supporting BYL.

And of course to Claire who spent the weekend driving from start line to finish line with a car packed with sweaty sports gear and and a greasy bike. For always being so supportive and encouraging and for feeding me the best and healthiest food going around. It’s no wonder that I was able to recover so well. Thank you my love!

This week I have truly learnt the value of being part of a good team and I consider myself a very lucky person. Quite how I managed to stumble my across such a good group of people is beyond me.

Next week we head to St Tropez for the first triathlon of the season. A nice little 750/20/5 smack session by the sea to blow away those winter chills. Sorry but I have to say another thankyou to Francois for getting me a race start at short notice.

And finally thanks to you for reading!

Gotta go as Claire and I off to have a celebratory Pastis or two

Well it is friday and I am just back from a good ride. After a week where I did not get the scientific results I wanted to tell me how strong I was. I decided that I would have to develop my own scorecard to measure my fitness. The euro strong man measure now provides me with the baseline that I need to know exactly how fit I am. I have managed to meet some of the criteria of my new measure but still a fair few remain on my to do list. Once I can meet all the criteria, I will happily consider myself a euro strongman! To hell with the scientists and their theoretical numbers. Here is my real life measure of real life fitness, euro style!

You know you are a euro strong man when:

You consider a mountain known as the ‘Petit Galibier’ as a minor inconvenience as it is between your home and the real mountain you want to climb and therefore you must traverse this epic 10k climb twice nearly every time you go cycling.

While climbing this minor annoyance, you wonder if it is the french love for mountains that has prevented them from building a road around rather than over this mountain. Or perhaps you summise that it is more likely the case that there is a road around but having no need for it themselves your super euro strong friends have simply failed to tell you about it.

The real mountain that you wish to get to for your training has an equally strange yet daunting name and is called something like the ‘Espigoulier’, and despite having climbed it more times than you can remember, you still don’t really know how to pronnounce it.

You are excited by the fact that your biggest training day of the year will involve an 80k ride to the base of Mt Ventoux and from there you will complete three ascents of this giant, wind torn and shadeless beast that stands at 2000m and mercilessly claimed the life of Tom Simpson during the 1967 Tour before riding 80k ride home, even though this day is still months away.

You are able to go to a party with french people and successfully communicate to them that you plan to race Embrunman later in the year (seriously, Embrunman is extremely difficult to pronnounce in french!)

You willingly go to a party and start talking about Embrunman to even the most dormant of couch potatoes because you know everyone in france knows of embrunman and equally, everyone in france thinks it is the most ridiculous test of endurance ever imagined.

After 6 months of trying you have finally resided yourself to the fact that no matter if you approach your home from the north, east, west, south, north east, south east, north west or south west that the final 20 minutes of your ride will involve a leg burning climb before you are able to collapse at your front door.

Despite the fact that you have scaled your training down from about 36000km a year to teaching 2-3 rpm classes per week, you are still able to rip the legs off any poor fool who decides to go riding with you.

You hale the first day of the new year when you go cycling with normal knicks, leg warmers and fingerless gloves (as opposed to full length winter knicks and ski gloves) as the greatest day of your life, despite the fact that still the only parts of your body exposed to the weather are the tips of your fingers and your face.

You have taken to climbing mountains on any side of the road or in the middle of the road for you know that you are sufficiently strong and look the part so that any french motorist will immediately defer to your wishes and pull over to the side to let you pass.

You have long since given up even thinking of stopping at traffic lights because it is well known that for the euro strong man, traffic lights provide nothing more than an ‘optional’ opportunity for stopping (unfortunately this rule applies to about 50% of french drivers as well). If you are a married euro strong man, you will have also skillfully ‘failed’ to tell your loving and caring wife about this new behaviour.

You have taken to going through france’s limitless array of roundabouts as fast as you possibly can, all the while imagaining that a peleton of 200 angry riders is bearing down on you and having just passed the 5km to go banner you can hear Paul Sherwen’s voice ringing in your ears ‘he is turning himself inside out; he must take every risk he can; he cannot look back; he has to keep that HUGE gear of his ticking over for as long as he possibly can’.

During those rare moments when you are not on the bike but instead in the car doing ‘normal type’ things you get lost within 5 minutes of getting onto an autoroute despite the fact that you can get to any village with a population of more than 20 (goats that is) via france’s tangeld mess of narrow, secondary roads, most of which date back to roman times.

Of the 5000 natural spring fountains that surround your home, you intimately know which ones provide potable water and which will leave you clinging to the toilet for the next two days.

Keenly observing the french people’s love of conversation you succesffuly build your fitness to a point where you can comfortably say ‘bonjour, comment ca va, if fait beau, non? bonne route!’ while your heart soars to 180 bpm so that you do not appear rude when passing fellow cyclists on your local climbs.

You have a good knowledge of the protein content of your average garden snail and well sized pair of frogs legs.

Your jersey pockets contain more calories than the average person consumes in a day for you know that leaving your nutritional needs to the whim of france’s boulangeries has been the beginning of the end of many a euro strong man’s power to weight ratio.

You have finally given up trying to dodge people swimming some kind of weird backstroke with breastroke legs (think of a frog drowning on its back) and decided to swim uninterrupted at your local lake even though it has only been a week since observing the first thawing of the sheets of ice that have covered the lake for months.

Such is the terrain of your weekly trail run that everytime you go running you are guarenteed to pass people hiking with nordic ski poles and enough equipment to survive in the bush unaided for a week.

You see nothing wrong with capping off a week that included 15 hours on the bike, 4 hours of running and 4 hours of swimming plus 3 separate V02 max tests with two races in the space of 18 hours. Similarly you also see nothing wrong with an ironman buildup that includes 5 triathlon races in the space of 8 weeks because every euro strong man knows, spring race kilometres are the currency of peak summertime performance.

Yep, it’s off to the races for me this weekend! For those of you on the BYL Busso Love In – I hope you have a great time!