One golden day

The Prologue.
The years of training, the trials of preparation, the tests of courage, the indefinable lows and the indescribable highs, and it all comes down to this moment...

The story, as you all know, starts long before this day. When Susie first decided to get a little fitter, her goal was but a simple one - to be able to strap herself into a snow board and stand up without assistance. Goal achieved, the sainted Matt casually inquired "have you ever thought about doing a triathlon?", and thus the seed was sown. Skip forward a few years, and I'll quote the lady herself. "Four years ago when I was starting to get sick and could only stand for 15 mins at a time, a friend asked what I wanted to do. I said one day I want to do a half ironman. Back then I didn't realise it would take so long to get better... ".

The Location.
The Gold Coast Half IronMan Triathlon is run in a little place called Calypso Bay - a district that can barely scrape together more than one millionaire per 10 sq metres. The squalor and the rundown facilities were appalling, but when there's a job to be done, one must rise above ones circumstances.

Calypso Bay

The Start.
It seems that many of Australia's triathletes traveled to Queensland for this race, with over a 1000 competitors in the distance event alone. Not only was there a large contingent from Susie's tri club to lend verbal support, but good friends Cheri (aka 'kb') and Rob were there too.

If it's good enough for Michael Phelps...
Susie has a quiet drag on a (ventolin) bong.

The time immediately prior to a big race can be very lonely, but "The swim start was delayed by 30mins and kb and I sat on a jetty chatting while we waited and got rid of all our nerves".

Mermaids

Seals

The Swim
"I felt good in the swim and when I saw 36:xx on my watch as I came up the ramp I was stunned as at best I'd hoped for 45".


I have to say that I almost missed Susie's exit from the water, as I wasn't expecting her to be out that quickly either. As you can see from the number of bikes in this next photo of transition #1, there were a lot of people still in the water.

The Bike
The bike leg is 90km, and that provided plenty of time for the sun to warm up and the winds to rise. "I felt strong the whole way on the bike but the final lap was a bit harder as we were now into the 40+k winds. I was hoping for a 3:30 bike leg, so 3:35 in the wind was great." If you squint hard enough at Susie's bike (the red one to her right in the photo above), you'll see a white water bottle mounted on the handlebars as well as two down on the frame. The white one has a straw poking up out of it so that the rider can drink from it without moving from the aero position. Unfortunately, at the first drink station when Susie went to refill it on the move, the strap holding it in place gave way - goodbye main drink bottle! Luckily, the other two were sufficient to get her through to the next station and thence the end.

The Run
Transition #2 went smoothly, even if the exit didn't. "Another lap around on the transition and it was out to the run. In typical style I tripped over a gutter and face planted but I think the spectators were more worried than I was. I just got up and kept going." Another close squint at the photo below will reveal Susie's red badge of courage streaming down her left leg. What you can't see are her hands and left elbow.

Run Leg - did I mention the 1000 competitors?

It isn't really apparent in the photo, but this part of the run leg is 3 x 3km alongside one of the grassed (dirt) parking areas. Thus, as competitors from earlier events were leaving, their cars threw up clouds of dust which the wind turned into our very own private dust storm. Given Susie's asthma issues, I have to say that this was the point of maximum concern for me. Time-wise, there was no issue with finishing, just as long as she didn't end up in the back of an ambulance with breathing difficulties. It appears that Susie didn't share my concerns. "I managed to slot into a steady pace straightway and kept it going for the whole run leg doing the 2.30 exactly as I'd hoped."

The Finish
"I was so happy and excited to cross the line in 6.44.08 when 6.45 was my 'only on a good day could I do this' goal".

And so we return to the prologue. Any Zen master worth his salt will tell you that it is the journey that matters, not the destination. Any good photographer worth his salt will tell you that there are moments that encapsulates all those years of effort, those moments when all the pain is justified. This was one of those...

The end
is just the beginning