Undead bookends

The week that was, where do I start to describe it?

Instead of the obvious place (the beginning), or even the creative point (the end, Memento style), let's go back an extra week and start there - why not?

Mark it in your calendar dear reader, Monday - the 11th of June was the where my Ironman training stepped up. This was the first week where I hit multiple, serious sessions and got a taste of the consistent effort that will be required from here on. Monday evening swim session; Tuesday was an early run set with an evening windtrainer to cap the day. On Wednesday I and my boardshorts were back in the pool and Thursday night was another run. Friday was a day of rest; Saturday I had the bike on the windtrainer in the garage for an 80km virtual hill ride and closed the week with a long out and back 18km run and managed to record a decent negative split.
Awesome week? You bet!
More importantly, I still felt pretty good at the end. A steady build in the coming weeks and months and I was starting to feel pretty optimistic.
Little premature? You bet!

Thus we come to the week of the living dead.
As is common in most good films of this genre, the week began normally enough - no hint of the carnage to follow. Bright shiny day and lots happy faces all round. Monday I had to drop The Boy at school and so had to catch transport to work, but that was cool, as I got to read my copy of Aus Triathlon & Multi-Sport magazine and catch up on my Draw Something games. It also meant I got a pretty good long walk in as I made my way to the pool and smashed a great swim set after work. At home later I got my gear together for another double session Tuesday. With that I turned in for the night and so ends act one, as we see our characters resting easy.

It was another typical Tuesday morning, I awoke early that day to make three lunches and one breakfast. I ate the one breakfast and packed one lunch. The bag was quite full and rather heavy but that was cool because it had everything I'd need for the day. Kissed the wife Good-bye and was out the door into the cold morning air on the bike by 5:20am, even though I had pre-organised for today, I was already running late. Not too late, just a little late, just enough to give the viewer a hint of trouble brewing.
I arrived and locked my bike at MSAC in time...to see my run group heading off without me (Insert dramatic music)
Fortunately, I had seen the direction they were travelling (opposite to normal), and was able to perform a quick change to my running gear (thank you transition training!) and dump my bag in a locker. As I rushed out to catch the group I spotted one of the other coaches who had also arrived late, she had also been unaware of the different location of the day's run so I guess it was lucky I was still there.
We ran together during the warm-up run and spotted the group silhouetted by headlights on the other side of Albert Park lake. Spurred on by this, and seeing how far in front they were I pushed the pace a little and actually distanced my coach!
Ok, so we were only supposed to be warming up and she was likely being the sensible one, but after last week I took this as another sign of how great I was tracking.
We caught the group before the main set and got things underway. This day I found I was able to push the pace AND hold it for the entire session. So what if I was late this morning, I got in a solid 10km as well as a 13km ride, all before 9am!

Back at my locker in MSAC, and about to get changed to complete the journey to the office I was surprised by a phone call. It's the wife, there is a problem at home, The Boy is sick and has to stay home from school today, seems he's picked up that gastro bug that's been going round. The problem is that the wife has to work and can't stay home with him. Being in the IT industry I have the power to work from home occasionally, something the wife's retail job doesn't allow. I suggest I exercise my power and change my course for home.

Forty-five minutes later I arrive back where I started and find there's been a new development, the girl will also be staying home today. Turns out she hadn't been just putting on an act and was actually sick as well so this would be a party for three. My smooth sailing day is slowly unravelling but I am still not able to see the horror that is coming.
The kids are settling in to a day on the couch in their PJs, playing electronic games to distract them and numb the tummy aches and the wife heads out the door to restock our supply of toilet paper. I decide to grab a quick bite to refuel and switch on the computer ready to e-commute to the office for the day. This wasn't part of the plan for the week, but, I got my run in and an extra solid ride so all was not lost. And, since the wife's shift was not a long one today, I could still arrange to get to the evening windtrainer and thereby remain on track.
It was whilst waiting for the missus to return from the TP run that I first noticed the something was off. I'd eaten breakfast (early, I know) and I'd just had a snack recently, I shouldn't still be feeling these hunger pains...

It was with some defiance, and some would say a good measure of stupidity, that I next attempted the quell the growing discomfort in my stomach with a peanut butter and cheese sandwich (actually, it was two of them - I know...) This would probably be the scene where some hapless character has decided to investigate that noise in the dark, discovers the light is faulty but proceeds regardless. They remain blissfully unaware that you, the viewer, are yelling at the screen, pointing out the obvious. I can't hear your cries of warning and I ensure I finish both sandwiches and wash them down with a bit of apple juice.

Unsurprising, this meal does not make me feel any better and I begin to deteriorate fairly quickly. Quite soon I'm regretting my remonstration of the girl when she refused to get up "off her lazy ass and feed her pets" as my words come back to haunt me from the other side of the coin. When the wife does return I am forced to concede, today will not be a "work-from-home" day, and how glad I am that she brought back the 12 roll economy pack. A few phone calls later and she too is staying home, she will be looking after the rest of us. There will be no work produced by this family today.

Now, my wife is a strong woman, she can handle the task, besides, she doesn't start to feel ill until well after midday.

It's been several years for me, but when my foolish defiance from earlier makes its reappearance with such a flourish I must now also reset the clock on my no-vomit record. Curled up on the bathroom mat, empty and feeling like death I'm left wondering how this day turned around so quickly and definitively. It started out so promising, but the day has become extended periods of unconsciousness in bed, punctuated with moaning shuffling visits to purge and culminates with one such session where I found myself on the toilet, clutching fast to a bucket whilst riding out an earthquake. The zombie apocalypse must surely have arrived.

Tuesday was followed by Wednesday (I know, right) which became a day of recovery where again the whole family remained home. I did have to find the strength to get the girl to her school musical auditions on public transport, but at least we were all on the mend.
Well, all except for the wife. As I said earlier, she's a strong woman and she had put in a good fight but she was beginning to lose the war.
Thursday, the kids returned to school and I got back to work, albeit by logging in from home as I returned the favour of Tuesday and nurse the wife.
Friday came and went, I spent the day on location in the office today, but still didn't feel up to any training yet.
Saturday had a long ride scheduled and I had grand plans to do another marathon session in the garage on the windtrainer. I set the bike up, prepared my nutrition and set the alarm, only to change plans in the dark of the morning. I just couldn't face 3-4 hours in the saddle, my - um, let's say resolve, was weak. The highlight of the day was the email I received today. A GPS running app I had discovered several months ago on the iTunes store had just made it into the Android Play store. I paid my money and downloaded my copy of "Zombies! Run" and spent the evening transferring some choice tunes to my phone in preparation for the long run set for Sunday morning.

I finally reopened my training account shortly after sunrise on Sunday as I headed out for my first run with headphones for quite a while. I started my Garmin and began my first mission on my new app. Through my headphones I heard helicopter pilot talking to me and the radio operator bringing us into some remote base. As I ran down my street, I heard the rocket attack strike our helicopter and our crash landing. Running passed the local shopping strip the radio operator at the base told me that a nearby zombie hoard had heard our crash landing and were approaching, Run!
It was less than a km from home that I first heard them coming for me and had to pick up the pace to escape, not fast enough though, I had to drop and item I had collected to distract them.
Turns out, you really need to sprint to evade zombies...

I was supposed to go for a 19km run, I ended up with a little over 22km recorded on my app, in a time of 2 hours, 10 minutes and change. During that time, I completed my mission on Zombies! Run, picked up 42 virtual items to build my base and out sprinted the zombie hoard 11 times. Each attack requires you to increase your pace by 20% for about a minute. What better incentive to get some intervals into your long run than being chased by the undead!?

So, that was the week that was, a week I suggest was bookended by the the living dead. It started with me feeling like one of their number, and ended with me smashing out a solid run whilst racing against them.

I admit, they did catch my twice but I'm pretty sure I got home safe.
I know I lost some skin during my run, sure, but that's only because I tripped.
This doesn't look like a bite to you does it?

Let me pick your brain...

Ironmen don't wear board shorts

Ironmen don't wear board shorts.

It's a fact, you can tell the who is serious about their swimming and who is just there for a good time. We triathletes are a specific breed, we like to be in control even though we are often at our limits, and we like our kit! A quick look at any shop that sells triathlon gear and you will note there is a premium price associated to anything that weighs slightly less, is slightly newer, or is slightly more aerodynamic. Also, any time you see a triathlete training or racing, you will probably note, we are quite happy to pay this premium. (often regardless of aesthetics, seriously, no one looks good in a tear-drop helmet!)
Therefore, it goes without saying, as you begin to reach the pinnacle of this sport, the Iron distance triathlon, you also need to shed you inhibitions and ditch the boardies for a pair of speedos. You need a top notch road bike for your long rides, it's time to get serious.

I agree, signing on the line for my Ironman Melbourne spot was also a time to get serious about my training. I realised I needed to put in the hard yards now to ensure I get the outcome I want on race day. Crossing that finish line is reportedly an experience of a lifetime and yet, every time the starter sends off another horde of hopefuls there are a number among them that wont be there at the finish. Some will succumb to exertion, others will miss a crucial cut-off time during the race, and some will arrive at the finish, yet outside the allowed time. I am determined to get my moment, therefore, it is time to step up. Getting serious basically means lots of extra training time, many more hours in the pool, on the bike, pounding the pavement and, heaven forbid, weight and flexibility training.

However, I also have to maintain a full time job and spend time with my family (for some reason, they still enjoy my company...?) and, as much as I'd like to dedicate more of my time to achieving this goal, my spare time can be limited. How can you fit this increase in training load into a week that is already packed with a 40 hour work week, many hours getting kids ready for school, homework support and weekend social activities and time to just be there and be involved with the family?

Quality is the key.

As a time-crunched age group athlete, we don't always have the luxury of quantity when it comes to available training time, therefore, we need to rely on quality time. Know what the goal of your session is, work to that end and ensure you are ever mindful of your technique. Don't waste the precious asset of time on junk miles, make every session count. This also applies to time away from training, time with the family is also quality time, don't just sit there mucking around on the laptop blogging... oh, crap...

A short time time later;

OK, good night kisses exchanged and kids tucked into bed, chai latte delivered, hot water bottle filled and wheat pack reheated the wife is rolling over for a night's rest. Back to the blog.

It also helps to be a little creative and disciplined with your training to ensure you can eek out as much time as possible. An set of interval during lunch anyone?

When I started to think about how I was going to tackle the available time issue I made some decisions that may seem to contradict the norm for a long distance athlete. If the race is going to be tough, I figured, the training should be tougher. For a number of years I have done the majority of bike training on my commuting bike, one I have blogged about in a previous post. Initially this was for convenience, if the bike was already at the office, it was easier to ride it to the beach combo session then go home and bring out the race bike. Sure, the "Trekenstien" is much heavier than the full carbon Felt tribike, and certainly, the rolling resistance of its 26" mountain bike slicks is no where near as slight as the 700s, but I soon realised, that's the point. If I can push that extra weight through my training sessions without the benefit of silky smooth tyres and the best technology they can produce in a $3000/hour wind tunnel, I'll be flying on race day when atop the super bike. When placed side-by-side, my two bikes have very similar geometry. The handle bars, bottom bracket (where the cranks attach to the bike) and saddle all line up pretty well, the main difference is the aerobars. By training on the workhorse I am effectively incorporating resistance training into each session and hopefully getting a higher intensity workout without sacrificing time or technique.
Since I began this approach I have taken my bike to three training camps where it kept company with many pretty serious and super-light road bikes. We covered largely the same terrain on those trips and did some serious climbing each day and got so much value from each one.
This is a concept I also began to use with my open water swim sessions, foregoing the luxury of a wetsuit most of the time. If I can get through the chop and swell of the open water in my swim suit, I'll have no trouble on race day with the added buoyancy, warmth and aquadynamics that the wetsuit provides.

Quality is key, but quantity is also important, 17 hours is a long time to keep moving forward. This is where a little creativity comes into play. To get the most out of my week I am now commuting more often under my own power. Wherever possible, I will get places I need to be on foot or on my bike. If you see me out somewhere during the working week, chances are good that I rode, ran, or walked to get there. This way I am sneaking in a few extra sessions each week.

The above roughly outlines the approach I have adopted to help my get my backside from Point A in Frankston to Point B in St Kilda next March. There is, however, one new tool that I have added to my arsenal. Along with my pull-buoy and hand paddles that I take to each swim set, I now also have my knee length board shorts. Bright green and black, a size (or two) too big and tightly cinched at the waist via the drawstring, sexy they are not. They may not be the latest fashion and, in a lane full of driven triathletes, they may look out of place and they sure do make it difficult to swim - and that's the point.

This week gone by was another build week on the program.
I clocked up over 135km on my heavy bike, over 80 laps in the pool in my "heavy" shorts, and more than 45km running (and let's just say my body continues the theme...) and all of it was earned the hard way. It's still early days and I expect I will need to find many more hours to build and maintain the required fitness but I also anticipate, I will continue to include more value into the time I do find to train, between all of my other commitments.

I still have my full-time job (an achievement in itself some would say!), I am still making time to be with my family, and I will continue to wear my board shorts!
It may be true that Ironmen don't wear board shorts, but, maybe they should...

The Tale of Seven - part 2

When I last posted I began the story of my first (and to date, only) attempt at the 7 Ascents Challenge in the Victorian high country. It's been a slow news week so I'll continue from where I left off.

Let me begin part two with a question; following a disastrous beginning to your mountain climbing career, where do you go next?

The sensible among us take a step back and reassess their abilities, weigh them up against the task/s planned, recalibrate and find a suitable challenge. Of course.

Of the seven peaks the comprise the challenge, Lake Mountain is a relative baby and is the closest one to my home in Melbourne.

Taking all of this into consideration, and with my failures still painfully fresh, I set my sights on my next target, Mount Baw Baw...

To put this decision in perspective, here is a quote from the 7 Ascents Challenge passport; Mount Baw Baw is "the second most difficult climb in the cycling World"

In hindsight, I'm guessing this move was my attempt to rationalise my prior failure and dismiss the evidence that I'm not actually bullet proof.

Heck, Baw Baw is only a 6 km climb, nothing like the torture of the 80km I endured last time. How hard can that seriously be!? Also, this time I'll be in the car until the start of the climb, besides, how steep is 13%!!?

Maybe I should have checked The Climbing Cyclist for advice beforehand:

A warning to the recreational riders - this is a seriously challenging climb and one that should not be attempted unless climbs like Lake Mountain and Inverness Road can be accomplished without too many difficulties. Treat this climb with the respect that it deserves!

The Second Tale - Mount Baw Baw
Car packed, super bike on the roof, and kids in the back we headed off for the four hour family drive (one way) just so I could get another precious stamp in my passport. The plan was to drive to the base of Baw Baw, jump out of the car and start my ride, whilst the wife and kids went on ahead for a spot of sightseeing. I would then meet them at the summit for a picnic lunch and get my passport stamp. We would have a lovely family day out before driving home, probably singing songs and reminiscing on a wonderful day out. The day was warm and clear, the drive was nice and I was watching the dash GPS unit counting down the km to the destination I had keyed in for the wife. When it ticked over to 20km remaining to the top of Baw Baw I decided it would be a great idea to actually start riding earlier, kind of warm into the real climb. We pulled over at the next "Slow Vehicle" turn out and I set about setting up the bike. I was feeling good, the air was fresh and warm and that's when the problems started.

The wife had also gotten out of the car to help me with the bike and my gear, she was the first to notice the large "wasps" that were now investigating these strange outsiders. I've never seen her move as fast as she did that day, in quick fashion, she was back in the car with the doors and windows tightly shut, kids still in the back seat happily playing their games machines leaving me alone outside, holding my bike in one hand and its front wheel in the other. Sanctuary was brief though, quick as she had been, she hadn't been quick enough. A buzzing intruder inside the car lead to much screaming and a panicked exodus to the roadside for the entire family.
So, here's the scene; We are 2 adults and 2 kids 4 hours from home on a country road side, we can't stay here because of the insects, we can't drive the car because they have commandeered it and the only available vehicle is a bike and the front wheel is still yet to be attached. The day appears doomed even before I've turned a single pedal stroke.
A quick investigation of the beastie that caused our current predicament reveals truth, we are not being assaulted be wasps but just massive flies. Wife and kids back in the car, kids back to their games (they're resilient like that!) and I finish setting up the bike and assembling my gear for the ride. We are back on track.

Um, I'm sure I packed my cycling cleats, at least, some one must have right?
We've not driven this far, done battle with the natives just to let a little thing like wrong shoes to derail this train! I'll just need to do the ride in my runners instead, it is only a 20km ride.
Goodbye kisses given, or at least, blown through closed windows of those not willing to get out of the car again and I watched the car drive off as I saddled up and finally began to ride. For a little while, I kept up with the car pretty well, the kids and I exchanging waves through the back window. How were they to know I was trying to tell them I've just realised I've left my phone in the car?
As the car sped away I resigned myself to the fact that, no matter how difficult this climb got, I would not be reduced to making the call again, if only because I didn't have the means this time.
I like to find the positive side of things.

No cleats, no problems! I was getting on with the job nicely, climbing and descending through the rolling countryside without much difficulty, things were looking good again. That is, until I made the right hand turn at "The Gantry" and got my first look at 13%.
The road went up faster than my jaw could drop at the sight of it. Nothing for it, no turning back and with my only way to get home to ahead of me and not contactable I completed the turn, rose out of the saddle and hit the base of the climb with 6.7 km to overcome. I think I conquered about 60m of it before I was shot down, I phrase is so because it sounds more impressive than less the 1%, again with the positives...
You see, almost as soon as I got out of the saddle and kicked up the pressure to the pedals there was a very substantial rubbing in the back of my bike. Forced to stop to investigate this mechanical issue I checked the brakes and span the wheel. It all appeared to be running true so I jumped back on and tried again. I reckon I got a couple of peddle strokes this time before the extra and unexplained friction forced me to stop again.
What followed was not a pretty sight as I began to walk my bike up the Baw Baw tourist road. Several times during that climb I remounted to try again, motivated by either a slight slackening of the road's incline (it never truly flattens out and actually has a maximum gradient of 20%) or an attempt to outrun the march flies that started to bite me through my cycle wear.
I guess I was lucky in that I'd at least brought the right shoes for this...

 I am happy to report I did at least manage to ride over the summit, if only because the last couple hundred meters are relatively flat.

The wife and kids were not hard to find, they were at a picnic table in the square having already eaten and discovered there really wasn't much to do at the summit of a sky resort in summer. With my slower than projected climbing pace, they had had plenty of opportunity to do both.
A couple of sandwiches, a coffee and a second stamp in my passport* and it was time to leave. Glad to be past all of the dramas and with the mission accomplished, if via a loophole, we descended Baw Baw. Back at the gatehouse at the base and just before we turned right onto the main road I noticed something odd
"Is that smoke coming out of your wheel well?" I asked
Left turn to the shoulder and, for the second time that day, there was a hurried exit from the car. Smoke was indeed billowing out of the passenger side front wheel well! We popped the boot and I grabbed the camelback I had brought with me and pointed the nozzle into the smoke and opened the bite valve.
Once I was satisfied the smoking had stopped I repeated the process on the driver's side front wheel. There hadn't been any tell-tale smoke from this side but, the load hissing and steam that resulted confirmed that the flashpoint had not been far off.
The remaining trip home had been punctuated with questions of "do you smell smoke, or is that exhaust?" Later that evening, we arrived home safely, without further incident.

The outcome:  a few new entries in the car's vehicle log and $750 for parts and labour (burnt disk rotor and shocks) and the superbike was in the shop for almost a week as they struggled to remove the wheel spacing bolts that my efforts had jammed into the rear dropouts, all for one small rubber stamp in my book.

Two climbs done, five to go.
What could possibly go wrong that hasn't already...?

To be continued...



*I got that stamp with my head held high as I rationalise that I did actually climb that mountain "with my bike", the rules didn't say you had to climb it on you bike

The Tale of Seven

We all have limitations, some are real, some are imagined and some we impose upon ourselves by over-reaching. It is important to recognise your limitations and when you can safely push through them to find a new level.

Allow me to share some times when I found my limits, and where I finally (?) learnt my lesson.

When I started running again, after many a year of sedentary life, I quickly found I could continue to plod along at my comfortable pace for long periods of time. This led me to attempt longer and longer runs and I was always able to complete the distance. I remember wondering at the time, what is my limit here, I seemed to be able to run all day, albeit slowly. One evening I had completed a longish run with a group at the office, then continued on to run home. Turned out, 28km was my limit, turned out I discovered this fact with about 10 km left to run before arriving home.

This would be the first time I would be forced to place the call. The Wife had to get in the car to come and pick up "my sorry ass"

 I heard about this cycling event that sounded like it would be fun to do, "Around the Bay in a Day", I just need to get a bike first. Unfortunately, the bike I bought took several weeks to arrive at the shop so I missed out on the event in that first year. The following year, a friend reminded me about the ride, after the main distances had reached capacity fields. I did the 50km ride.

A year later, I remembered the event date, I had a bike, but I also had a Father Child camp on the same weekend. 

Like they always, say; fourth time's the charm, and I finally got in to the 250km ride. The Wife drove me to the city early in the morning so I could finally join in on the fun of the main ride. She then drove back home to get some sleep.

The ride was long and tough, I only got lost twice and only got back to the Start/Finish line as they were packing up the Expo. The plan had been to complete the ride with a cool down ride home, however, the severe cramping in my feet had other thoughts.

The Wife drove back into town to give me a lift home.

Turns out I can be a slow learner when it comes to my own limits, but, the Tale of Seven finally drummed the message home.

A couple of years ago, in August or September, I received an email from the Victorian High Country tourism. Included in this message was an invitation and it sounded intriguing. Climb the seven Victorian peaks, get a passport stamped at them summit for a chance to win a trip for 2 to the following year's Tour de France. 7 climbs, I can do that!

I signed up and received my passport and realised I had all the way until the end of March to get all of my stamps - easy.

Fat forward a little bit and it's mid-January, having attempted precisely zero of the required climbs, time running out There were two options, resign to the fact I'd left it too late and tackle to challenge whole heartedly next time, with a sensible timeline and plenty of recovery time between each; OR cobble together a rushed plan and cram it into a reduced time frame.

I made the obvious choice of the delusional optimist and hatched a plan of assault for this challenge. So begins the Tale of Seven...

The First Tale - Lake Mountain

I decided that I should ease into this a little before attempting the big ones. Lake Mountain is the closest of the seven peaks and there are some nice places for The Wife and kids to hangout whilst I did the climb and get my stamp.

We picked a weekend that didn't clash with other family activities and marked it in the calendar. Soon afterwards, The Wife noticed our Family Outing to Lake Mountain was the same weekend as the first anniversary of Black Saturday; bad day to pick for the ride.

Undeterred, Plan B went into effect and my ride was bumped a week back. The problem with Plan B, The Wife had to work so that family outing was scrapped, so too was my lift to the start line. They say "Where there is a will there is a way"; I discovered my "way" in the public transport system. I could catch the train to Lillydale station, ride to Marysville, climb the mountain, collect my stamp and then make the return journey. Total ride distance of about 160 km.

I had previously done much longer rides so this didn't seam to be too much of a stretch. Besides, I now had my super light, full carbon triathlon bike, that should make the going much easier!

No problems!!

The problems began as I entered what I had only noted on Google Maps as "the green section" and now know to be called "The Black Spur"; of all the roads to cycle on in Victoria, this is not one of them! It is a narrow, twisting steep stretch of tarmac that does not include the luxury of any kind of shoulder. More importantly, this road seemed to have been regularly traversed by 4X4's and large trucks. The unique layout of this road did give one lorry driver the ability to complete a hairpin turn and yell across the gap "Ya fuckin' lunatic" as I picked myself and bike out of the drainage ditch I'd sought refuge in when it became apparent the road would not accommodate both of us. I like to think his exclamation was his way of expressing concern as to my well being.

Over the top of The Black Spur and to the base of a valley, that part if the ride was pretty sweet, but this meant a fairly steep ascent (10% I believe) to get over before arriving in Marysville. This unexpected climb, coupled with the one just prior was where I discovered my climbing limits. As my legs took turns locking up and the cramping set in I was left to walk a large part of this section, and I was still yet to begin the ride I came here for.

Undeterred, I pressed on and finally rolled into the township of Marysville and therefore arrived at "Base camp" for today's ride. I was out of food, low on fluids so I used the few dollars I had brought to restock at the local cafe. A time check also showed that it was getting late, it was already close to 4pm. It was also time to face the horrible truth, there was no way I was getting home under my own power this day. I was going have to make the call.

I dialled, I pleaded my case and I described my hardships to this point. The Wife seemed rather understanding as she resigned herself to the realisation there was going to be a family outing after all, however abbreviated.

With that unpleasantness out of the way I retuned to the task at hand and commenced the climb proper. It actually felt good to be finally doing what I had spent so many hours of the day preparing for, it felt great, for approximately 1 km...

The profile of Lake Mountain shows that the initial 4.4km are all at around 8%. I was pretty well cooked from the start and my triumphant ascent became a tough grind until the cramping in my thighs threatened to stop me completely. Reduced to again walk the super bike I continued to climb, I was going to finish this. When the gradient slackened off I got back in the saddle and pressed forward. It was not a pretty display, jaws clenched, muscles protesting and several sections on foot I pressed on, one eye on the time, hoping the station at the summit was somehow aware of my battle and was holding the door open for my inevitable arrival.

Happy to report, when I crested the summit and arrived at my destination I did so rolling into town - however, as it was now 5:30, it was a bit like a ghost town. Likely driven more by denial than anything else, I tried the door of the lodge, even though there was no one in sight.

Good News! The door was open and I found someone still on duty upstairs.

Bad News! He was part of the construction crew, not the lodge staff and had no knowledge of the challenge nor the prized stamps. I had been riding (and walking and dodging lorries) for over seven hours, and missed the checkpoint by less than 30 minutes.

Seeking some sort of consolation, I asked to fill my empty water bottles so I could get back to base camp and rehydrate. Murphy struck a final blow when I found the water filter was empty and the tap water was not fit for consumption.

Back on the bike, empty handed and defeated, I rolled back down the mountain trying to see the road through the dappled light and shadows from the overhead foliage as the light began to fail, even my descent was slow.

An hour after arriving back in the township of Marysville, The Wife arrived, kids in the back, to rescue my sorry ass, again

I must say (and The Wife is all too happy to agree) The Black Spur was no fun at night in the car either, especially with two tired and disgruntled kids in the back seat, and a tired and whiny husband riding shotgun.

The following day I mailed my challenge passport to Lake Mountain lodge with a letter telling of my ordeal. A week later, it was returned, and it was stamped.

One climb done, six to go

      To Be Continued...