Set a goal, and stick with that goal. That is the wisdom. And it works. But I didn’t do that. I took the path less travelled. Below is the story of my training for the last 2 years. It is my story, written for me. But people have asked for more info. I doubt they actually want it, but here it is anyway... In June 2005 I went for a quick 100km training ride, a little warm down before travelling to France to cycle the monster Alps, before returning to SA to race spring season, then tackle a sub-11 hour Ironman in 2006 and and and ... I had never been fitter – some trouble with running, but cycling was going well and I hadn’t drowned in 2005 Ironman SA. A few seconds later I watched my front wheel crumple, then my knee shatter and my imported carbon fibre, excessively expensive bike bend backwards with it a few knee ligaments. ‘... please collect kids’ ‘...please collect my bike’ were 2 quick phone calls while I lay on my back in the middle of Ou Kaapse Weg surrounded by paramedics. And so began 6 months of learning to bend my leg again. Pain so bad I couldn’t sleep. Carol so patient and supportive, wanting to help, but watching me try do things myself. My anaerobic training changed from a sub-3 Argus, to crossing Pick ’n Pay. Lifts from friends to the gym to hack around on crutches. I remember sitting on the bike in the gym at 5am for an hour, not moving, forcing my leg to turn over. I remember, vaguely, asking Kate, the legendary physio, to make my knee bend the few degrees more so I could cycle. Pain, sweat and tears were real. One sensible rehab step at a time. 6 months passed. I got back on my bike – forced my previous training partners back onto their bikes. Started riding again. Then tragedy again. Someone in front forgot to warn about the stick in the road. The next guy went down. I bunny hopped his head, but caught the handle bars and came down on the shoulder. Broken collar bone. Another 6 weeks out. Everyone commiserated – ‘cycling is so dangerous’, ‘I guess you’ll stop now’. So I went to spinning classes with an arm in a sling. I started weights to strengthen the arm and leg: bench press the bar with no weights! Leg press the carriage with no weights! Humility. Goal setting without reference to other people. Focus on what is possible and what is a smart next step, not what other people can (or can’t) do. Argus 2006 was an interesting ride – my 24th, not my fastest, not my slowest! And so began the comeback trail. Winter training. Weights. Swimming. Water running. Walking. Physio. Massage. All the ingredients of an Olympic athlete, but used at the level of a not-terribly genetically gifted, slightly-damaged mid-packer. So we got a bit ahead of ourselves by ENTERING Ironman 2007. But the cycling was going okay, and swimming was a controlled drown as ever. Running of course was the problem. 3 minute walk, 1 minute run became 3 minute walk, 8 minute run, became 3 minute walk 1 minute run. Don’t over do it!!! And of course don’t admit any of this to the fantastic foursome that I was helping for Ironman. Oh and the master stroke was going back to basics: Kerith the fantastic personal trainer (I’m sure she thinks I’m off my rocker, but she studiously makes me do simple lunges and keeps a straight face) – the lesson here, the little things matter – knee stability, upper body strength and abs. October 2006: well how about a 7 day 600km hilly ride in Mpumalanga. Okay, will see if the knee can handle that. It did. (pity about the virus the week before, the anti-biotics, the gastro during the race!). So now some longer rides, harder racing (still way off original power and performance). Then let’s do the funride, plus cycle back to meet a friend and do 150 instead of 120. A great 5 day 600km in January with some wonderful IM contenders as always bumped up the endurance. A bit of complacency and other pressures in January/February resulted in 150km rides on the weekend, but insufficient during the week. And the running struggled. Then the worst phone call: ‘how about Epic?’ Just like that. My buddy Andrew crashed and broke his fingers. His buddy Steve then decided that I was the target of his evil plan – something about thinking he could spend 8 days with me and that I might be fit! The goal was Argus, with a little Ironman afterwards, but Cape Epic was 900km of mountain bike riding! And he would have accepted the ‘no I’m doing Ironman’, but he accepted the ‘yes, but I’m also doing Ironman’. Which part of this plot had I lost. There was no way this was all going to happen. Jason at Olympic cycles didn’t even blink when I told him that the bike I bought in January specced for Epic 2008 ‘just in case’ was now not so ‘just in case’! I did however get an objective 2nd opinion on an appropriate 4 week crash training program – I had to lie though and pretend I wasn’t going to do Ironman a week before Epic! My new MTB did the following training rides: 1 hour (before the confirmation phone call to enter Epic), 2 hours (mast and peak), 3 hours (Paarl race), 4.5 hours (mast, peak, mast), 6 hours (mast, mast, mast). Saddle sores and tiredness meant I tried to call and cancel entry, but these things sort of take a life of their own. 4 weeks of back to back rides with the odd long walk and swim thrown in. (Oops pity about work ;-) ) So the goal 3 weeks arrives: Sunday – Argus twice as a last long training ride. First lap 3:05 (where did that come from, my racing had consistently been at 3;10 pace and I went easy). Second lap 4:00 (very easy, chatting, having fun – and it is far more fun at the back!). No problem. Of course I had to do mast on the Monday as well! Taper week, then Ironman – lousy swim (oops might have cut out swimming accidentally in last few weeks), very easy cycle (heart rate under 70%) and then I was supposed to stop. But anyone I told that I was going to gave me grief. So I started the walk. Just one lap then stop to ease up for Epic. Well might as well do second lap (this is a stupid idea). All my friends over took me by this stage. Then, well, only one more lap. Who on earth wants to walk a marathon. Was it worth it: you bettya – dance until 2 the next night ;-) (oops we forgot to mention the tonsillitis from the Wednesday before the race that shook off in a last midnight sweat on the Saturday before race start! The doctor didn’t say don’t race – he thought it was obvious! Last anti-biotic went down with pre-race GU). So now into the last week before Epic. 4 huge weeks, slightly ratty but back to health and NO injuries from Ironman. 2 massages later from the legendery Bobbie (who only had a slight sense of humour failure due to overdose of cyclists on Argus) and I was fit as a fiddle. But of course there was still the matter of 6 MTB rides in the last 3 years. Oh well here goes nothing. Race day: hi Steve – 8 day partner. Yes I’m fine. No worries. (Voice inside head says, just do 3 days then go home and he can finish on his own). First stage, Steve waits for me up every hill and starts to worry. Girls cruise past us. Then my cleat gets stuck in the peddle after 70km, so I can’t unclip. Then we hit a rocky loose climb at 90km. I can’t dismount so I ride it and wait for Steve at the top (how did that happen? This is a stupid idea). Descend into Uniondale. (Voice inside head: okay just start tomorrow then go home, this is a silly silly idea). Queue for shower, get bike serviced, queue for dinner, mix energy drinks, try to sleep in tent – this would be come the daily routine aimed at minimum waiting and maximum feet up time. Second stage: Steve waits for me up every hill – no not every hill, only the ones we have to push the bikes up! (good thing I did 6 hours of walking last weekend as preparation). Huge huge stage. Hot dry, rocky, slippery. Hike a bike to the top of the mountain and try not to come off on treacherous descent. This is a stupid idea. Just get back alive and then go home. 100km up – out of water, gu, food. BONK. Sorry Steve. Zigzag through orchards for last hour dying. Collapse at end, until dinner time, then eat and eat and eat. Third stage: okay I had set mental plan to survive 3 days and then concede that this was bigger than me. I knew it. There was no debate. You can’t be a roadie, do 6 MTB rides, then Ironman and finish the Epic. Huge huge stage again. Can’t remember where that one went, but nutrition and hydration under control this time. Another 8 hours later. Excellent, I can go home now. Fourth stage, well day 2 and 3 were supposed to be the worst and stage 4 is shorter and easier. Okay just cruise it then go home. Do a tricky rocky descend section and … I was actually having fun. Well well. Then it went on and on. Sand, loose rock. Round in circles. But in the gravel and rock of some nature reserve or other, we found our saviour – the trivial pursuit quiz. The A-Z: name a city starting with A, B, C etc, a river, a country, a fictitious character. i.e. distract the brain. Let time go by faster. Oops, we are having fun again … Fifth stage, well we are actually over half way in distance, but this waiting in line in the morning for some over enthusiastic nurse to fondle my bum and apply painful stuff is not fun. But we’ll just do this stage and then call it quits. Lots of other people have gone home and finishing on your own will be just fine, Steve. Oh that one was a bit shorter and easier. Steve won't let me push him and the climbs aren’t so bad. Feeling strong on anything other than sand and loose rocks! Sixth stage, okay well I guess this might be do-able. Consistent 30+ degrees, regular GUs and Trivial pursuit were now fine. Steve might want to stop jumping off his bike onto the rocks. Finish, 2 burgers, stretch, shower, water, massage, mix energy drinks, dinner, sleep. Busy busy day ;-) Seventh stage, 42 degrees, 2000m climb, longer than expected. But spectacular. We can see the sea. We can’t sit on the saddle, but we can see the sea ;-) Eighth stage, well I guess all this is left is to make it to the finish. Feeling strong on the climbs and anything technical is a walk behind 1000 other people anyway. Did run out of food and water near the end, but only paid the price at dinner time! Never again. First and last epic, but of course Trans Rockies sounds interesting … So now it is Monday after 3 weeks of double Argus, Ironman and Epic – I don’t want to even add up the hours. All 3 not exactly in superb times, but comfortable finishes and feeling fabulous. Not one niggle in the poor abused knee. (sore ass though). So what are the lessons: - everything is done one sensible step at a time - recovery, massage and nutrition cannot be over-rated - mental toughness is earned - having fun is far better than struggling! The sense of satisfaction is directly proportional to the effort put in – this is why I work with generally non-Elite’s – because their satisfaction at finishing the goal event is hugely better than the elite person achieving or not achieving their goal time or position that is relatively easy given their genetics and time availability. It is us middle packers with jobs and families who grind out the training, then struggle through the race to achieve a finish, and all with a few laughs thrown in. I haven’t put on the finishers t-shirts yet – not sure I deserve them … I am proud of myself – I wont boast to many about it, but I am proud, not because I got my genetically limited body to do 3 stunning endurance events, but because I picked myself up off the road that winter day with broken knee, endured the injury/illness/grumpy set-backs and made it to do 3 races that 99.9% of the rest of the population don’t even get to the start line of. Doing 5 minutes of leg lifts with an atrophied quad was infinitely harder mentally and physically than a 150km training ride with healthy limbs and lungs. If I was the competitive type I’d challenge everyone else to do Argusx2, Ironman and Epic back to back. But I’m not, so do it or don’t do it. But enjoy the ride. Everything is done one sensible step at a time. Everything? No not everything! Setting the goal – visualising the long way off difficult adventure is not done one sensible step at a time, it is done in a single bound, a single phone call, a single dream.