End of year races

After doing my triathlon and ride across Iowa in July, the next plan was to start training for Marine Corps marathon in Washington D.C. at the end of October.

With Reshma, Brooklyn Rock N Roll 10K

However... I just wasn't feeling it.  When I started running seriously about 4 years ago, I was determined to prove to myself and to others what I was capable of athletically.  Give me a running leg, and I'll do a marathon.  I'm a big believer that the main thing anyone needs to cross over a marathon finish line is willpower.  Strong legs, heart and lungs definitely help, but willpower is probably the number one ingredient.

Having completed five, I can now safely say I can do them, but I also know how much they take out of me.  A marathon is 3 - 4 months of training, a certain amount of pain on marathon day, and a couple of months to fully recover.   Running has also given me some lower back pain, which could be helped by more stretching and core body strength training, but I'm a bit lazy about this.

I'd still like to do another marathon one day (maybe Berlin) but I didn't feel putting myself through it again this year  - my body just felt tired and was telling me it needed a rest.  So, I sold my bib, and enjoyed doing some smaller races, 5 or 10k's over the last few months.

Race for Rehab:  Soo crosses the finish line

One week-end, I ran in a rock n roll 10K in Brooklyn with my friend Reshma.  It is nice going out to Prospect Park in Brooklyn for a change of scenery, plus I was running for Team Refuel, for free entry sponsored free supply of chocolate milk, and entry to the VIP area after for a nice spot of cooked breakfast afterwards.

The day after, I ran a 5K race in Valhalla, Westchester County, 30 miles north of NYC.  The race is organized by the rehab hospital there; it takes place on the grounds of the hospital, and the proceeds go to Achilles.  It's always a fun trip out of town, and the students always give Achilles members such a warm welcome.

Another good race I did was a Shoe4Africa 5K in Riverside Park in the Upper West Side of Manhattan.  Shoe4Africa is a fantastic organization founded by marathon coach Toby Tanser.  Toby is currently raising money for the first public children's hospital in Kenya.  For this race however, all proceeds went for people affected by Hurricane Sandy.

For this one, my company Thomson Reuters had entered a team, but the most memorable moment was provided by Achilles member Patrick.

Partrick approaching the finish line

The few hundred people of us who had finished the race waited around for an awards ceremony and raffle after.   When this was over, we all thought the event had ended, but this was where Patrick proved everyone wrong.  He'd been doing an abbreviated version of the course on his walker and hadn't finished yet.

While all of us were engrossed in the raffle, he had been slowly but surely making his way towards the finish line, just behind where everyone was gathered.   As he came into view, everyone turned around 180 degrees, and started cheering him on to the finish line.  It was a really emotional moment.

Patrick was very tired, and had to stop every few steps to catch his breath.   He finished, bathed in sweat, to the loudest cheer of the day; looking around, I could see some people were crying and others were visibly very touched by his determination to make it to the end.  Another priceless Achilles moment!

I'm excited for my plans for next year.  I hope to ride from Lands End in the SW of England, to John O'Groats, at the top of Scotland.  I've signed up for the Timberman Half Ironman in New Hampshire in August.  These will involve a lot of training, which I'm going to get stuck into from January 1st.   I will need to start doing some more core strength exercises, spending a lot more time in the swimming pool, and a lot more time on the bike, but I know if I train diligently enough I have another year of exciting challenges ahead.

Team Achilles, Valhalla Race for Rehab, Westchester County

Fifth Avenue Mile/Westchester Triathlon

Fifth Avenue Mile

When I moved to New York about 8 years ago and started running with Achilles, one of the first races I remember doing was the Fifth Avenue Mile.  A nice short distance for a beginner, it starts at 79th Street, just south of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, and runs down the side of Central Park to finish at 59th Street on the corner of the park.

As I was new to running, I remember being very self-conscious about how my leg and gait looked AND also that I was so slow.   As this is a fast race with a relatively few number of runners, all staggered and grouped according to age and gender, I faced the intimidating possibility that I would be dead last in my heat.   This was something I'd been sensitive to for a long time.  At school, I knew I would be pretty good at sports, if it wasn't for the annoying fact that I had a leg missing, and used to dread being picked last for any team.  For this race, I ended up jumping in about a quarter of the way in, timing it so I could finish about the same time as all the other runners (they must have been surprised when they caught up with me how I eluded them at the start).

Are we nearly there yet?

And then watching a later wave I saw another Achilles athlete, Danny Trush, who as a teenager had suffered 5 brain aneurysms and been in a coma for 30 days.  I watched him come over the finish line at a much slower pace than I had, but I can still remember that there was something about how determined he was to cross the finish line that moved me to tears.  It made me realise: people don't really care who comes last.  But they are impressed by people who put themselves out there and fight to overcome obstacles to cross the finish line.  That was the last time I ever snuck into a race past the start line.

Team Ben

Fast forward a few years, and I found myself lining up for my second Fifth Avenue Mile.  I was lucky enough to have two guides this time: May, who I met on the morning of the race, and Reshma, who I often run with at Achilles Tuesday evening workouts.  Reshma has this great quality of running about two paces in front of me towards the end of our runs, encouraging and prodding me to go just that little bit faster, so she was an ideal partner for this one.

After a few stretches and jogs round the block, we were off!  Even though a mile is a short distance, it calls for completely different strategies than the longer distance races I'm used to, so I basically went out as fast as possible, got out of breath, and tried to maintain the speed as fast as my lungs would let me.  It all passed by in a bit of a blur, with lots of people shouting support, but in the end, I passed over the finish line feeling pretty strong and pleased with my performance.  My final time was 7 mins 42 seconds, much faster than I'd even hoped for.  Oh, and one other thing..I wasn't last!

The next day, I took part in my last tri of the season, the Westchester triathlon.  I did this as part of a Challenged Athletes Foundation relay team.  CAF is a great organization based in San Diego that amongst other things, gives grants to people with disabilities to help them get into sport.  The swimmer on the team was John Young, one of the only LP (dwarf) athletes in the sport of triathlon, and an inspiring athlete - he'll also be running the NY marathon this November.  You can read his great blog here.   I was biking, and the runner was Jolie Sutter, a below-the-knee amputee who lives two blocks away from me in Manhattan, who'd just got a new running leg with a CAF grant (though sadly not in time for this race).

7.00 am, triathletes on Rye beach

The race started at 7.00 am on Rye beach, on a bright and chilly September morning.  John completed his 1500 metre swim in the Long Island Sound in 49 minutes, then handed over the timing chip to me.  I set off on the course into a strong headwind, glad to start moving after a cold wait in transition, and had some tough hills that got me sweating in the first ten or so miles of the course.  The second half was much easier, so my average speed went up from 15.48 mph in the first 13 miles to 19.43 mph in the last 12.  One other thing about the route - there were lots of potholes and cracks in the roads to watch out for.  I passed a nasty crash near the Westchester Country Airport, where a cyclist was lying prone next to a crash barrier, covered in blood.  A couple of other cyclists had stopped and had already called an ambulance for him.

I thought I'd finished unscathed, until I reached the bike finish and entry to the transition zone.  As I approached the line to dismount, I was surrounded by about 10 other cyclists, and realised too late that I was going a little bit too fast to stop safely.  I ended up jamming on the breaks and quickly unclipped my shoe, but when I tried to put my foot down, I skidded and ended up doing the splits with my bike on top of me.  Luckily, I emerged unscathed apart from a scratched knee, a sore thigh from doing the kind of splits you normally only see 15 year old Olympic gymnasts do, and a slightly bruised ego.

Billy Lister

Evelyn Rodriguez

After changing out of the biking leg I headed over to the finish line to watch Jolie and other friends from Achilles and CAF cross the finish line.  Among them was Evelyn Rodriguez, doing her first ever 10k run with Achilles, and Billy Lister, running with CAF, who has also set up his own tri organization to help get people with disabilities in the New York area into triathlons.

After the award ceremony, we headed back into the city, and I rewarded myself with an hour long afternoon nap, and slept about 10 hours that night. I hadn't done the whole triathlon but doing a hard bike course, combined with the mile run the day before, lots of fresh air, and the 4.30 am start, must have been starting to catch up with me.

As the season winds to an end, I've started setting goals for next year.  In my sights is a half ironman.  I'm going to keep biking through winter as much as possible (cold doesn't put me off, ice does), and also try to make it to the pool at least once a week.  Swimming is still my weak point that needs a lot of work.    I also need to work on my core strength, as my lower back still gets sore after runs and is normally stiff first thing in the morning.  I already have stretches from a chiropracter, but I'm also thinking about a personal trainer to show me some good core exercises.  I hope if I can do all these things I can build on my achievements of this season, and go even further and faster next year.

Sailing on the Hudson

Even though Achilles is mainly about the running and triathlons, it also lays on lots of other cool activities for its members - kayaking, white-water rafting, bowling, to name a few.

Being born in a coastal town (Weymouth, Dorset, in the UK), and having been brought up within a mile of the sea until the age of 18, I've always felt that the blood that courses through my veins consists of at least 50% salt water.  To me, there's no better feeling than unfurling a sail, gazing out over a beautiful blue sea with a well practiced nautical squint, and feeling a fresh sea breeze blow through your hair - until, that is, when the wind really picks up, the water gets too choppy, and I start feeling slightly nauseous and anxious that the boat's bobbing around too much.

Some comically bad marine photography - Lady Liberty

Last Sunday, my friend Lisa Bowers, a volunteer at Achilles, arranged for Achilles to come down and sail on the Hudson in some yachts run by the Manhattan Sailing Club.  My only other experience with the M.S.C. was when Lisa had taken me out to their boat-bar, right in the middle of the Hudson, overlooking Ellis island, on a beautiful summer evening, so I was keen to keep up my association with the club.

On the waves

In all about 15 boats went out, sailing for about 2 hours.  We left from just to the south of the World Financial Center plaza downtown, and had to motor out a bit to pick up some wind, but eventually found a good breeze.  It was great having a unique perspective of the Statue of Liberty, but I just wish the boat could have kept more still while I was trying to take a photo of it.

At the helm

It was a fun afternoon.  It was great to get out on the water and we were looked after very well by our skipper of Lori, and first mate Christina.  Thanks Lisa for organising!

Part III: RAGBRAI Ride Across Iowa - Heat, Hills and More

Continued..

Day 5: Marshalltown to Cedar Rapids (84 miles)

I didn't set an alarm clock on day 5 - my plan was to 'sleep in' (i.e. get up at 7.30 am), make it to the first town 10 miles away, have a spot of breakfast, and then get picked up by the SAG vehicle to reach the next overnight town.

Checking my phone, I had a text from Rachel, who said her personal trainer highly recommended vaseline as a fix to all my posterior problems.  Well, I thought.  I highly doubted it would work, but there was nothing to be lost, and I did happen to have some, so I slathered myself with an ample amount 'down there', and set off, the last one from our group to leave the campsite.

Delicious watermelon snack

And it worked!  Like a miracle, the pain virtually disappeared, and I was comfortably able to make it to the first town, where I had a celebratory breakfast of chocolate milk, pancakes, coffee, a yoghurt, and an oatmeal bar.  Bouyed by the fact I wasn't in pain, I felt a resurgence of energy and knew I'd be able to make it to the end.

Town reception Committee

Even though the day was still hot, it was about 10 degrees cooler than the day before, plus there was a nice tailwind, gently pushing everyone to Cedar Rapids.  I was able to relax, and enjoy passing through the various towns, enjoying their hospitality, and stuffing my face with all kinds of foods and drinks - smoothies, watermelon slices, sandwiches, energy bars, gatorade, etc etc.  I think this was the most I've ever eaten in a single week.

Family ride

I got to Cedar Rapids by 4.00 pm and had the usual routine of relaxing the Pamper Zone for a bit, chatting with other riders, having a shower, and then going to find some more food - on this day, another church next door to the campsite (riders got there by riding in a trailer pulled by a tractor) was doing a great value 3 course meal for just $10.  After this, more socialising with other riders, before heading for bed around 10.

Reappearance of the Bananaman

Day 6: Cedar Rapids to Anamosa (42 miles)

This was the shortest ride of the day, and after consecutive 70 + mile days, it felt like a piece of cake!  I met up with someone from Denver who I met over the phone at work; we'd both found out that we were both doing RAGBRAI, and agreed to meet up and ride together.

Bananaman disciples

I stopped off in the rest town Mount Vernon and had a delicious breakfast of potatoes and eggs, grated cheese and sour cream, and also saw the Bananaman coming through again. This time he'd seemed to have picked up several Bananaman disciples.

Iowan cats

In the evening, I headed into the small town of Anamosa to forage for some food, and came across a Cat Rescue Centre just around the corner of campsite.  They were doing an amazing Mexican meal of beans, rice and burritos for a 'what you can pay' donation to the Centre.  As a cat lover, I was happy to eat there and support the cause (in their back garden), and got taken inside to meet some of the occupants.  Even the cats in Iowa are really friendly!

Day 7: Anamosa to Cedar Rapids (69 miles)

Puddles the Skunk

Saturday was the coolest day yet, and I took my time, enjoying the last day of cycling, stopping off at all the towns, looking for my favourite smoothie bar, and chatting with other riders.   One local lady supporting the riders along the road had her pet...skunk.  I stopped to take a picture of her with Puddles, who was very sweet.  Her scent glands had been removed, and I was told she was also toilet trained.

Suzy - note her cycle helmet!

I also met an amazing lady from Chicago who must have been in her late 60's/early 70's and was cycling along with Suzy the dog on the back, under a rainbrow umbrella to protect her from the heat, at a very slow and steady pace.  The deal was:  you could take a photo of rider plus Suzy, but in return, at the top of the hill, you'd be asked to make a donation to the dog shelter the rider was raising money for.  This seemed like a great deal, and after making my donation we chatted for a bit before all three of us were on our way.

I finally made it into Clinton, where I'd arrived 7 days earlier, around mid-afternoon.  It was quite a feeling of accomplishment riding down into the last town after 471 miles, especially as there were some points in the week where I wasn't even sure if I'd make it.

The last part of the ride is to symbolically dip your tyres in the Mississippi river, to mark the fact that you've come all the way to the Eastern side of the State (Iowa is bordered my the Missouri river on the West and Mississippi on the East).

After dropping off my bike to be shipped back, I headed back to the casino where we'd pick up our bags.  We'd been advised to hitch a ride with other bikers heading out of town, and I ended up finding a ride with a one-armed cyclist who'd just finished the whole week's ride.  It was interesting swapping notes about how having a different limb missing can throw up unique challenges.

Made it!

The last (unwanted) excitement of the day came when I found there was no public transportation and NO TAXIS whatsoever in Clinton, which to me is completely ludicrous.  It basically means that if you don't have a car, and want to get to the airport, you're scuppered.  I understand some American towns don't have great public transportation (which is why I feel lucky to live in NYC), but to get rid of taxis on top of it seems like complete madness.  Luckily, Bubba, who owned the charter service provider I went with, had by chance seen me wandering along on the side of a busy road, walking to a hotel to see if they could help, and amazingly, he offered to drive me all the way to the airport, over an hour's drive away.  This act of kindness trumped anything over the past week, but also reflected the incredible spirit of goodwill and generosity that I'd felt from both riders and Iowans throughout the ride.

I ended up at the airport by 11.00 pm, and slept there for 5 hours before getting a plane back to New York.  In all, RAGBRAI was an amazing experience, and, as with all endurance events, the sore and uncomfortable bits will probably recede in my memory, as I'll see everything through an increasingly soft and fuzzy lens.  Despite the heat and saddle soreness, I had a fantastic time, seeing some beautiful countryside, testing my biking limits, and most importantly meeting some amazingly warm and friendly people.  These are the main things I will remember from my ride.

Part II: RAGBRAI Ride Across Iowa - Heat, Hills and More

Continued...

Day 2: Cherokee to Lakeview (62 miles)

I had a fairly early start, around 7.00 am.  The organizers were being nice by slowly cranking up the distances every day.  The route started to take us due south, and into a bit of a headwind, but otherwise it was a nice day's cycling, not too hilly, and I made good progress, stopping at most of the towns for just a quick snack.  I also made sure I rode under every hose and sprinkler I could find as the temperatures rose.  By around mid-day, when I rode through the last town, it was getting really hot - the temperature coming off the pavement was around 110 deg F.

Iowan sunrise

When I got to the campsite, it was scorchingly hot, and, unlike the first night, there was no tree cover.  The first thing I did was jump into a nearby lake to cool off.  I stayed in there for about 45 minutes, trying to find the colder currents, feeling really good about finishing the cycling early and still feeling fresh.  After this, I came back to the group's rest area (a.k.a 'pamper zone' - area shaded with canvas, camping chairs, cold drinks, snacks), and sat down for a bit, planning on waiting out the heat before going into town to get some dinner.  This was one of the hardest things about the ride - there was no escaping the heat.  It would have been much easier if I'd been able to go into a nice air-conditioned hotel room to properly cool off.

And this is where my scariest moment of the week occurred.  I had a nap, but when I woke up, I felt dizzy and thought I was going to pass out.  Even in the shade, it was probably still in the 90's, with no breeze.   I got up, walked behind a truck for more shade, and wondered if I should ask someone to call for an ambulance.  Some people had found a hose and were having showers with it, so I borrowed that to cool off.  Then I decided to cycle into town and find somewhere to cool down.

When I went into the town's supermarket, it was still stiflingly hot and humid; all the cyclists were talking about how hard the heat was, and some were talking of bailing the next day.  I began to get spooked and wondered if I would make it, as there were another 2 days of really bad heat to go before things started to cool off.  When I signed up for this ride, the idea wasn't to suffer, it was to have an enjoyable week touring around, so I began to question if I even wanted to finish it.  

Then I found the small public library of the town, and it was CRAMMED full of cyclists, everywhere, sitting on at the tables, sitting, lying on the floor, sleeping..it conjured up images of how public buildings would be used to house people in the event of a nuclear fall-out or some kind of terrible natural disaster.  I napped again in the library, and stayed there until closing, at 8.00 pm. 

After, I bought a couple of slices of pizza, then came back to the campsite.  I spoke to Rachel and told her about my doubts about finishing the ride.  She told me I'd be disappointed if I didn't finish it, which I knew in the back of my head, so I decided to take it one day at a time, give it a go the next day, and take it from there.

Day 3: Lakeview to Webster City (81 miles)

I had my earliest start yet, around 4.30 am, and started riding in complete darkness, but with hundreds of other cyclists hoping to beat the worst of the heat, by 5.00 am.

The first couple of hours of cycling in the day throughout the week were definitely the best.  You could cycle through the cool morning air and watch a beautiful sunrise over the fields.  Even though I knew I had another tough day's cycling ahead, I did my best to savour these moments.

6.00 am breakfast stop.

I also tried to feed off the amazingly fun and positive spirit of the other riders.  During the week, I saw the most incredible array of bikes imaginable.  Road bikes, mountain bikes, touring bikes, tandems, you name it.  On the Tuesday morning, I couldn't quite believe it when I saw a man dressed as a banana, cycling along in a recumbant..banana.  Later on that morning, I saw a unicyclist, who I noticed also had a unicycle tattoo.  That's pretty hardcore.  Today was an 80 mile day, with an optional 20 miles to make it a century (which I decided after about .01 seconds of careful consideration I wasn't going to do), but he was doing all 100 - which he said would probably take him about 10 hours in total.   

Man peddling in a banana

By afternoon the ride was getting quite hard; we were riding on an exposed ridge, with a headwind of what I found out later was gusting up to 20 mph.  The advantage of riding with hundreds of other people is that there are opportunities for drafting, which is what I did, but, for the times when I was riding by myself, the riding was draining.    Whatsmore, I was starting to get saddle sore, and was realising that my tri bike wasn't made to be a touring bike.  The saddle may have been made for speed, but I was finding out the hard way that it wasn't made for comfort.

By the time I got to the host town, Webster City, I was pretty toasted.  I spent the rest of the afternoon sheltering from the heat in the cool and quirky Webster City museum.  It was over 100 degrees again and humid; sweltering hot.  Then, staying in the shade where possible, I found a church with some fellow riders that was doing a huge pasta dinner for $10, did some laundry, and then came back to the site.  By 10.00 pm I was ready to crash.

Day 4:  Webster City to Marshalltown (77 miles)

This was the day when the saddle soreness started to catch up with me.  Right from the moment of getting on the bike first thing in the morning, my backside was really painful; it felt like it had been attacked with a potato peeler, and the saddle dipped in vinegar.    I even tried stuffing a t-shirt down my cycling shorts for extra padding, but nothing seemed to help.  

The day was definitely a big mental challenge.  I started to break the distance down, just focusing on getting up to 10 miles, then 25 - nearly a third of the way through, 38 - half way, etc, all the time.  I do this during marathons and the mental games playing tricks on your body really helps.  I was also encouraged by other riders.   At one stage in the morning, the pain from my posterior was getting so bad I thought I'd have to stop, when just at that moment, I passed a dad with two young sons, who shouted out loudly:  "now there's a real man - cycling with one leg".   Bouyed up, I pushed on - no chance that I was going to stop in front of them.

Throughout the ride, people were only complementary about my leg.  I started out maybe a little self-concious, but found I had no need to be.   However, some would have been even more impressed if I was an army veteran, as illustrated by the conversation I had with one elderly rider:

Medicine Man Injury of the day: Tendonitis (didn't try him).

"How did you lose your leg?  Armed forces?"  Me:  "No, from birth..".  Rider (look of disappointment coming over his face):  "Oh...I thought you were one of our brave heroes.."  In the most anticlimactic way a conversation could end, he then mumbled something about how it was great what I was doing anyway, and thats where our chat petered out.

By the end of the day, my backside was in excruciating pain, and I thought I'd ridden my last day.  There was no way I could carry on being that sore.  I have an additional disadvantage in that I'm not able to stand up on my bike, to relieve the pain.  Still, I thought, I'd given it a good effort, so, with my spirits relatively high, I went into town with a new friend I'd met on the ride, Rob, had a Chinese meal, and went back to campsite for another early night.  My plan for the next day though was to get up late, ride to the first town, and then pick up the support vehicle to take me to the next overnight town. 


To be Continued..

Part I: RAGBRAI Ride Across Iowa - Heat, Hills and More

At the end of July, I took part in a 471 mile organized ride across the state of Iowa, RAGBRAI (Register's Annual Great Bike Ride Across Iowa, run by the Des Moines Register newspaper), with about 10,000 other cyclists.  The things I enjoyed about the ride were: the beautiful scenery, meeting so many friendly riders and Iowans in the towns we passed through, and the achievement of cycling so many miles in one week.  Things I did not enjoy about the ride were:  the heat, having to get up at 5 O'Clock in the morning to beat the heat, and excruciating saddle soreness in the middle part of the ride.

It might have been partly inspired by the bleak photo on the front of Bruce Springsteen's Nebraska album when I was 15, but for a long time I'd wanted to cycle across a Mid-Western State.   When I was a teenager and young adult, I had a fascination with the States; not just the East Coast cities like New York, Boston, Philadelphia, and California and the West coast, but I also wanted to see the heartland of the States.  Go right off the beaten track and see and experience the real America.  Cycling seemed like a great idea, as I'd be able to savour the endless cornfields and open roads as I crossed the state, I imagined on my own.

The bike that took me across Iowa

When I started to do research, I initially started with Nebraska, but then reading cyclist's message boards, found there was a ride, but at a minimum pace I would have found too fast.  Then I found out about RAGBRAI, which advertises itself to be "the oldest, largest and longest bicycle touring event in the world".  It is completely non-competitive, open to people of all ages, shapes and sizes, and is just geared towards enjoying the Iowan countryside and hospitality of their towns.  I instantly signed up.

To get to the start of the ride, I'd flown into Clinton, on the Eastern border of Iowa, and then met up with the charter service I took, Bubba's Pampered Pedallers, run by Bubba, a retired policeman from St Louis, about 6'5" and built like a brick you-know-what.   The event was all about camping, and the service would provide, put up, and take down my tent, and then ship it with all my stuff to the next overnight town.   We took a coach to Sioux Center on the NW border of the State. It was 8 hours of travelling, a long time, and we had to cycle back in the opposite direction, which made me realize what I'd got myself in for!  After arriving and picking up my bike, which I'd had shipped, I got some food, enjoyed some fireworks the town had laid on, and then went to bed early, about 10.00 pm, excited to start my ride the next day.

Day 1:  Sioux Center to Cherokee (54 miles)

Cyclists going up the first hill, Day 1

I got up at about 6 and was on the road by 7.  It was a beautiful sunny morning, and it was a great feeling cycling amongst thousands of other cyclists.  After about 10 miles, I stopped off for a spot of breakfast and coffee.  My carbon fibre cycling leg attracted quite a bit of attention from the other cyclists.  Some of them would cruise past and tell me the leg looked great, and others would pull alongside to have a chat, ask me how I lost my leg (I didn't), what the leg was made of, whether I pushed with it (I don't), etc etc.  I met a lot of cool people this way.  I also heard there was one lady cycling the whole thing with one leg and no prosthetic.  That sounds really hard to me, just for balance issues.  I was hoping to meet her on one of the days, but never did.

Iowa for Green Energy!

I got to the campsite around noon, and still felt quite fresh.  I took a nap in the tent, but woke up with a prickling sensation all over my skin.  I thought it was ants, but it was because I was sweating so much.   Then I went into the town centre, tried to find a restaurant for some pasta, couldn't, and ended up at Subway.  I milled around the town for a bit longer, because it was hot, trying to stay in the shade, listened to a live band they'd put on, and for dessert had home-made apple pie and ice-cream from one of the food vendors that had set up (delicious).  After this I headed back to the campsite and got to bed early, because I knew the next day was going to be HOT so I wanted an early start.

To be Continued..

Amputee Football/ NYC Ironman

The great thing about living in New York is that there's always so much going on.  No excuse to ever be bored; you never know what new experience waits just round the corner.   Apart from all the music, restaurants, museums and meeting people from all around the world, something I appreciate is the opportunity to develop new interests in the world of sport, to be inspired by superior athletes, test out where my boundaries really are, finding out what I'm good at, and not so good at.

Sat, Aug 10th, 2012.  In the morning, I went to a local sports club where members of the US National Soccer team had come to meet physiotherapists and members of the Rusk Hospital amputee support group, to tell us about the benefits of getting involved in this sport.   I consider myself 'lucky' to have been without two fully formed legs from birth, but for anyone else who has lost a limb, the worst thing you can do is stay at home and do nothing.  To fight off depression, improve confidence and self-esteem, the best thing you can do is pick a sport, be engaged, get in shape, and work up a good sweat.

After being told us how amputee soccer started in the States, and a few drills, we were told we'd have a little 5 a-side game.  The teams would be: amputees, all playing on crutches, without prosthetics,    versus the bipods, who had to take a shoe off and were not allowed to kick the ball with the shoeless foot.  Amputees are not allowed to touch the ball with their crutches - that is a 'handball'.

Amputee football - much harder than it looks.

Football has always been my number one game, and I loved playing it at school.  Even though I couldn't run, I loved taking part.  My friends would often let me play as goalkeeper, even though I couldn't dive to my left and did leak quite a few goals in over the years.  But I always enjoyed it, and wondered how good I would have been if I'd have been born with two legs.

So when we started our game, I was excited to show off my silky skills and prove what I could do on the football pitch.  Were they about to unearth amputee football's version of a Maradona, Pele, or Beckham, even at the admittedly very late age of 38?

I quickly found out that the game is MUCH harder than it looks.  After chasing around after the ball for 10 minutes or so on crutches, my heart was thumping fast, and I was starting to sweat profusely in the muggy August morning sun.    With the sweat, I also started to lose my grip on the crutches which made it much harder to get around.  Even though I did once manage to put the ball in the old onion bag, I then decided to take it a bit easier to stay back in the defence for a bit, and was happy to sit out the last 10 minutes.

We had pizza and coke after the game, and I was offered to go down and meet and play with other members of the US team, who practice in New Jersey.  So we'll see how this develops.

In the afternoon, I had the opportunity to volunteer for New York City's first ironman event.  I was with members of a local tri-club, Asphalt Green, and my friends Nina and Rich, as we were positioned around mile 20 of the run, handing out bananas, water, ice, grapes, crisps, cookies, coke, gu's etc.  One thing a lot of them asked for: chicken broth.  I've always considered an ironman to be realistically beyond me, so it was amazing to see all the athletes come past, of all different shapes, sizes, and ages.  They were at the end of a tough course.  After a 2.4 mile swim in the Hudson, they had a hilly 112 bike ride in New Jersey, followed by a marathon, with afternoon temps in the low 80's.

After volunteering, I went to find Rachel and friends Miranda and Carol, to see the rest of the competitors come through Riverside park on the West side of Manhattan.  I missed my friend Melissa, but saw two blind athletes from Achilles, Jack Chen and Joe Bellantoni.    We finally left the course around 11.00 pm, and after a late meal on the UWS came home and crashed into bed.   Just another action packed day in NYC.

Race Report - NYC Aquaphor Triathlon

Yesterday I finished my first olympic distance triathlon!  The distances are a 1500m swim in the Hudson, a 40 km bike up the West side of Manhattan and back, then a 10k run in and around Central Park.

The more I compete in these races, the more I'm able to anticipate pre-race nerves, and even though they never seem to go away, at least I can tell myself in the back of my head that nerves are usual and, once I get going, I'll probably be fine.

For this event, the swim was again my biggest challenge.   I only progressed from a doggy paddle about 4 years ago, and had only done 2 open water swims in a wetsuit before this race.   My previous longest swim was 800 metres, so I'd be nearly doubling that, but I knew I just had to overcome the initial nerves about being in the water, find my stride, not panic, and I'd be OK.

I also don't do well in hot weather, and, as if ordered by the merciless Weather Gods, along comes a great heatwave affecting half of the country.  Even though I could do nothing about it, this didn't stop me from checking weather.com every 20 minutes or so in my waking hours in the couple of days leading up to the race.  I had disaster-scenario visions about sweltering and then passing out in my wetsuit in the river, or even worse - being told the river was too warm to wear a wetsuit, which helps my buoyancy.    Also, the hardest run I've ever done was the Chicago marathon in 2010, when it got up to about 88 deg F, so I was really hoping for a let up in the heat.  As it happened, the hottest day of the weekend was Saturday, when it reached about 100, but race day on Sunday was forecast to peak at 90.  My start time was 7.00 am, so as long as I didn't dawdle, I should be done before it started getting really hot.

Waiting for swim - with Stephanie, Eliza, and Kat

I was up at 4.30 am to take a taxi down to the transition area on 72nd street.  I'd taken my bike down, and packed all my stuff (swim cap, noseclip, goggles, wetsuit, goos, biking shoe, biking leg, running shoe, running leg, glasses, gloves, water bottles, energy bars - checked at least 4 times) the day before, so all I had to do was a quick bike check, and then make my way towards the swim start, a mile away from transition.

Quick pre-race interview!

As Rachel (kindly helping me as my 'handler' -handlers are assigned to help 'challenged' athletes - for the day) and I walked down along the side of the river, we saw the elite swimmers had already started, powering down the river, leading the approx. 3500 other athletes in the race.  We could also see the strong tide helping them.  The fastest swim on this course is only 9 minutes!    An encouraging sight was that the river was completely flat, unlike last year's choppy conditions (and maybe not by coincidence, where two people had heart attacks).

As we neared the start, my anxiety started to build up a bit, but I was also excited, and looking forward to getting going.  I also made it onto live TV!  I was collared by a Fox TV crew, along with Sarah Reinertsen, a well renowned ironman amputee, for a 2 minute chat about how we got into triathlons.

Then it was time to zip up the old wetsuit, and along with the rest of the approx. 30 para-athletes, hop on to the barge to wait for the horn announcing we could jump into the water.  Ignoring the sight of the odd dead fish floating around the barge (didn't want to think about how they died!), you could sense the energy and anticipation.  I was talking to a wheelchair competitor from England,  Liz McTernan, impressed that someone who can't even walk can throw themselves into the water (as it turns out, she did the swim 11 minutes quicker than me).

The Hudson

Before we knew it, time for the countdown.  First to go would be the TRI1 athletes (wheelchair users), then a 20 second pause, then TRI2 (above knee amputees, my category), and so on for the 6 para categories.  The organizer with a bullhorn announced the 5 minute warning.  3 minutes.  2..1 minute..30 seconds..and then the TRI 1 athletes were off, dropping themselves about 2 feet off the barge with a big splash.  I felt calm as my wave came next, and lowered myself as best as I could into the water as the klaxon went off.

As I went in, I was glad I'd practiced in the Hudson a couple of weeks before.  It must be alarming to go from swimming pool to the Hudson, which is completely murky, and where you can't see more than an inch in front of your face.  I felt fine and started to get some rhythm in my stroke.  I could see the signs on the river wall as I progressed, slowly but surely, first for 500 m, then 800, then 1000.  I knew I was going pretty slowly, but was also excited that I was going to make it, and the hardest part of the event - swim start - was over.

Eventually I could see the swim exit getting bigger and bigger, and I'd made it!  I was grabbed from behind, and up out of the water, and then had my wetsuit stripped from me by two volunteers, while Rachel waited with my leg.  From there I could run back to transition.  My final swim time:  28 mins 23 secs.

After changing into my biking leg, I was away and out of transition.  I was feeling exhilarated by the swim, and felt I had a lot of energy to take me over the finish line.   Going uptown, there was a slight headwind, but going back down south with the wind on my back felt really good.  My final bike time was 1 hr 26 mins, about 18 mph average.

Transition

Back to transition; by this time it was starting to get hot.  After changing into my running leg and stocking up on energy gels, I ran up a steep path out of transition, and onto 72nd Street, which would take me about a mile into Central Park.  The crowd support for this portion was great; there were alot of people clapping and cheering, and the buildings also provided a good amount of shade.

Then it was into the park, and around mile 3 as I started running up the hills on the West side, I started to get some cramps, and stopped for a minute or so to recover.  I knew I wasn't running to break any records or win any prizes, but just to finish, so I was Ok with giving myself with a little breather and not pushing myself too hard.  For the next three miles or so,  I ran for 10 minutes or so, stopped and have some water, and then went on my way.  Around 90 St and 5th Avenue, there was an Achilles cheering team, including Lisa, Soo, Wendy, and Tiffany, who gave me a very welcome cup of ice, and then it was on the home stretch, down Cat Hill, and to the 72nd Street transverse where the finish line waited for me.

Nearing finish line

For the last mile or so I would have loved to have stopped, but there were so many people around, including some familiar faces (Amanda, who I ran my half marathon with in March, and Junko, another inspiring athlete I met through Achilles), that my pride simply wouldn't let me, so I pushed through, knowing I was very nearly there.  I was as excited as I was to finish any marathon, and crossed the line after a run of 1.06.  My overall time: 3 hrs 13 mins.

I think I'm slowly but surely getting addicted to triathlons.  I was a long way behind the winner of my category (Mohamed Lahna, who did it in 2.46), but if I work on my swim more I could shave a lot off my total time.

The rest of the day was spent with the rest of the para-athletes, friends, guides, and handlers, first in one of the hospitality tents past the finish line, and then for beer and burgers on the Upper West Side, generously sponsored by the race organizer, John Korff.  There, as we talked about our race day experiences, my mind started wandering to what the next challenge should be.  Maybe not a full ironman, but I'm pretty should I could do a half...

Team Achilles!

Race Report: Achilles 5M Hope and Possibility

On Sunday, I took part in the most inspiring race I know, Achilles' own annual 5 mile Hope and Possibility race in Central Park.

It was founded along with Trisha Meili, the Central Park Jogger, who was brutally attacked while jogging in Central Park in 1989.  She nearly died from her injuries, but battled back and even ran the NYC marathon in 1995.  She is now a motivational speaker and on the board of Achilles.  The race takes its name from her (fantastic) book, I Am The Central Park Jogger: A Story of Hope and Possibility, and attracts people with all kinds of disabilities.


The team I ran with was Team A Step Ahead from my prosthetics company.   We were a kicking crew of about 30 amputees, from 5 year olds to 50 year olds, and varying athletic abilities.

The race started at 9.00 am when it was already hot.  I was feeling good as I started out, and decided to give it my all and see how well I could do.

Hand-crankers at the start.  All photos by kind permission of Rachel Van de Voorde.

All round the course I was inspired by the runners with disabilities taking on the course with their own particular challenges.  Army veterans running on one, or two prosthetic legs.  Strange as it may sound, I've always felt somewhat 'lucky' that I was born with my disability, so I never had the shock of suddenly having to adjust to life without a limb - it's all I've ever known.    People with cerebral palsy in wheelchairs, some pushing themselves backwards.  Blind runners.  Autistic runners.  Also around me - people with traumatic brain injuries and the like - 'invisible' disabilities to others, but just as challenging.  

In evidence today:  people who refuse to be daunted by their challenges, are determined to overcome them; give it their best, and in so doing, regardless of their final time, bring out the very best in the human spirit.

Around mile 3 I finally found my stride, huffed and puffed up and down the hills on the West side of Central Park, and crossed the line with a thumping heart, final time 46.25.

After that, my favourite part of the race:  cheering in the rest of the runners over the finish line, mixing with Achilles athletes and volunteers and the A Step Ahead team, and even catching up with Dick Traum, the founder of Achilles; the man who started it all.   No better way to spend a Sunday morning.

With Dick Traum, founder of Achilles International

Half Mile Hudson Swim

To help prepare for the NYC Triathlon next month, on Sunday morning I did a half mile swim in the Hudson, organized by Urban Swim.  Just getting access to the Hudson is not an easy thing - it is normally illegal, probably because of the strong currents and amount of ship traffic, but for this event, Urban Swim managed to scratch a few backs and twist a few knobs with various people working for authorities like the NYPD, Coastguard, Port Authorities etc, and got the green light to lay this event on.

Rachel and I met with Kat and Tessa from Achilles around 9.00 am to be signed in for the event, with about 40 other swimmers taking part.  At about 10.00 am, we were taken out in 2 boats up to about 100th Street, and then had to swim back down the river to another boat that would take us back to the dock.

I still get quite a bit of anxiety about swimming, so I need all the practice I can get.  I've found there are so many components - getting used to being in a wetsuit (which can feel claustrophobic and constricting), getting the breathing, swimming, and kicking all in sync (easier said than done), as well as the sighting, to make sure you're actually going in the right direction.

After being taken up the river, we had to wait around in the boat until 11.00 am sharp, until we were allowed in the water.  The waiting wasn't ideal, as this is when the old nerves can build up, and as the day was starting to warm up we were starting to boil in our wetsuits.

We were finally told we could pass the timing chips on our wrists over the mat at the back of the boat and jump into the river.

When I first got in I just couldn't get comfortable; in fact for the first five minutes I'd say I was really struggling, doing my best not to panic.  The water was colder than I expected, and I was hyper-ventilating; I don't know if it was from the cold or from the anxiety.  I was finding it hard to get into a rhythm, and took a couple of mouthfuls of water in.

Coughing and spluttering, for a brief moment I thought I wouldn't be able to make it.  One thing Urban Swim had done though was provide volunteer kayakers to help any swimmers in distress, and when I looked up, I could see one who'd noticed me struggling and asked me if I was OK.  Knowing back-up was close by, and it would be VERY hard to drown in a wetsuit, I decided I should do my best to get a grip and try to get my composure back.

Sure enough, after a brief panic about my nose-clip falling off (obligatory in all my swims), I was able to get some rhythm, and slowly but surely the target boat started getting bigger and within reach.

The current in the Hudson is so strong that you wouldn't actually need to take any strokes and you could complete the swim; my final time was 13 mins 23 seconds to cover about 800 metres.  It would have taken me at least double that in a swimming pool, and the fastest swimmer did it in just 8 minutes.

After the swim:  John Nunez, Tessa, Kat, Rachel, Ben

Getting on to the boat proved a bit tricky as I couldn't grab the stairs on the back of the boat, due to the current being so strong, and for about 10 seconds I had nightmarish (and maybe slightly drama-queenish) visions of being sucked under the boat and dying a tragic, premature, watery death, before being hauled out by Rachel and another helper on the back of the boat.

This swim was great preparation for the tri next month.  Even though it was 800 metres, and the tri will be 1600, the important thing is to get used to the feeling nerves before getting into the water, to keep calm when you dive in, and to find your composure as soon as possible so you can be relaxed in your breathing and start concentrating on your stroke.  Fingers crossed, when I get into the Hudson next month, everything will be OK.