Isn't it funny how our brains, generally so superbly capable, can get things so surprisingly wrong?
I was talking with a friend about dreams yesterday. Sometimes I wake up from dreams so vivid I struggle to distinguish what is reality. I have gone to work grumpy with a colleague who offended me in a dream, and who then had to suffer me being cross with him...on account of something that had happened in my subconscious.
A week or two ago I was out for a run (well, OK, a wheezy shuffle), and I saw my friend Sarah run past the end of the street I was approaching. I decided to catch her up and run with her awhile. Off I galumphed. I saw her glance back and pick up the pace. Hmph I thought. So I picked up my own pace. Soon I was thundering down the street, but she just kept running faster and faster. Eventually my resolve faltered so I let her go, puffing and wheezing I watched her long pony tail swinging off into the distance. Then my brain caught up and reminded me that Sarah has short hair. I don't know who I'd been chasing, but the poor lady must have been scared half to death.
Similarly, my unreliable grey matter has led me to believe absolute truths, and defend them vehemently to others, which are entirely imagined.
I believed for years that moose were bovine. Big cows. Then one day, in my thirties, years of misconceptions came tumbling down with a quick google search. Cervine. Big deer. Seriously? Next they will be telling me that hippos aren't giant pigs.
Sarah (she who lacks a pony-tail), calls it Turnbull Logic. I am glad to have a term for it. For me it started young. Mishearing my father, I came to the unshakable belief that his horse was a "Power Board horse". Dad had actually said he was piebald (the horse was actually skewbald, but that is not important right now), but not knowing what that meant, my resourceful little brain filled in the gaps with something more familiar. When inquiring adults wondered why on earth the Power Board would have need for a horse, I thought nothing of it, why wouldn't they need one?
So the moral is that it doesn't hurt to stop and check the information that comes pouring out of our brains from time to time, just in case a little bit of misinformation has clouded the water a little bit.
So until next time, make sure you heat that teapot before you brew the tea.
love
Ironmaiden
Saturday, August 11, 2012
Thursday, July 19, 2012
Weapons of mass procrastination
It's amazing how good we get at procrastinating. People keep asking me what I am doing with all my spare time since I finished my Ironman training. I have no answer, so I've been trying to figure out why not. My conclusion? I have traded triathlon for procrastination. Is my house tidier? Is my life in order? Is my bike clean? Am I training for the half-ironman I have entered at the end of the year? Nope, nope, nope, and sadly, nope.
I never used to be much of a procrastinator, but lately I have become quite the champ. I couldn't compete in the Olympic procrastination competition because I am on procrastination steroids. And so many weapons to augment my skill have been coming my way lately:
- The pool ceiling collapsed. Can't go swimming, far too much of a hardship to swim in an outdoor pool....
- It's winter! I can't go outside! Its all frosty and cold and dark and smokey!
- I have a kindle. Glorious. Last seen double zip-locked and completely revolutionising hotpooling.
- White Cat is asleep in my lap. If I get up and disturb her she'll bite me!
- I'm lazy. Oh no wait...scratch that...I'm in denial (that's more like it!)
- I'm so busy procrastinating!
But it won't be winter forever. One day White Cat will go sleep in her specially heated fleecy pet bed. I will exhaust my kindle library. The pool will get repaired (well...may be - unless it disappears into a massive subterranean tomo). So it is time to try and rediscover my good habits. Like vacuuming. And eating vegetables.
But before I start, I am pondering this: If your body is so embarrassing, why on earth would you want to get naked and go on international television? But enough procrastinating, I'm going to get that vacuum cleaner. As soon as I dislodge this cat...
Till next time, do what makes you happy.
love
Ironmaiden
I never used to be much of a procrastinator, but lately I have become quite the champ. I couldn't compete in the Olympic procrastination competition because I am on procrastination steroids. And so many weapons to augment my skill have been coming my way lately:
- The pool ceiling collapsed. Can't go swimming, far too much of a hardship to swim in an outdoor pool....
- It's winter! I can't go outside! Its all frosty and cold and dark and smokey!
- I have a kindle. Glorious. Last seen double zip-locked and completely revolutionising hotpooling.
- White Cat is asleep in my lap. If I get up and disturb her she'll bite me!
- I'm lazy. Oh no wait...scratch that...I'm in denial (that's more like it!)
- I'm so busy procrastinating!
But it won't be winter forever. One day White Cat will go sleep in her specially heated fleecy pet bed. I will exhaust my kindle library. The pool will get repaired (well...may be - unless it disappears into a massive subterranean tomo). So it is time to try and rediscover my good habits. Like vacuuming. And eating vegetables.
But before I start, I am pondering this: If your body is so embarrassing, why on earth would you want to get naked and go on international television? But enough procrastinating, I'm going to get that vacuum cleaner. As soon as I dislodge this cat...
Till next time, do what makes you happy.
love
Ironmaiden
Thursday, July 12, 2012
Selective Memory or Evolved Optimism?
Hello Everyone
I was going to wait until I had normal (well, normal by my standards) toenails before reviving the Ironmaiden saga, but it turns out it takes much longer for black toenails to turn pink than it does for pink toenails to turn black. And as for regrowing the stubborn little suckers that fall off altogether...
Anyway, it got me thinking about how our memories take such a sunny view of things. I look back on Ironman and remember a wonderful exciting day that I thoroughly enjoyed and entirely intend to repeat someday. And yet a quick glance at my feet suggests I might not be quite recalling the "full" experience.
We all look back on our long, endlessly sunny childhood summers and wonder why summertime is never as enjoyable anymore. The weather is never as nice, the season is shorter, it just isn't as good as it was. But think about it objectively - it might have been many years ago, but it was still New Zealand. Contrary to our golden memories, it did rain sometimes. We did get sunburnt. We got stung by wasps. And bees. And jellyfish. We stubbed our big toe. It bled. We stubbed our other big toe. We broke our big toe. We broke other toes. Yet, when we reflect, we just remember the good bits. We possible overstate the good bits.
So why do we do this? Why after nine weeks are we forgiving the source of the toenail trauma and already contemplating the next pedicular assault? I wonder if it is to do with evolution. After all, surely, if faced with a choice, a sane woman wouldn't go through childbirth a second time? They say that afterwards it is all worthwhile (well, perhaps after the first 3 months... or 6 or 30 months... have been survived), but seriously? The physical logistics would suggest it is not something you'd be rushing straight back into without some serious questioning of your sanity. But I've met numerous sane and intelligent women who've gone through the process more than once. Even more than twice. And survival of the species has been dependant on women being prepared to go through it twice. Or more. Ouch.
So, my feet are back in service, and new adventures are to come.
Until next time, remember to turn the hall light on so that you don't trip over the same cat twice.
love
Ironmaiden
I was going to wait until I had normal (well, normal by my standards) toenails before reviving the Ironmaiden saga, but it turns out it takes much longer for black toenails to turn pink than it does for pink toenails to turn black. And as for regrowing the stubborn little suckers that fall off altogether...
Anyway, it got me thinking about how our memories take such a sunny view of things. I look back on Ironman and remember a wonderful exciting day that I thoroughly enjoyed and entirely intend to repeat someday. And yet a quick glance at my feet suggests I might not be quite recalling the "full" experience.
We all look back on our long, endlessly sunny childhood summers and wonder why summertime is never as enjoyable anymore. The weather is never as nice, the season is shorter, it just isn't as good as it was. But think about it objectively - it might have been many years ago, but it was still New Zealand. Contrary to our golden memories, it did rain sometimes. We did get sunburnt. We got stung by wasps. And bees. And jellyfish. We stubbed our big toe. It bled. We stubbed our other big toe. We broke our big toe. We broke other toes. Yet, when we reflect, we just remember the good bits. We possible overstate the good bits.
So why do we do this? Why after nine weeks are we forgiving the source of the toenail trauma and already contemplating the next pedicular assault? I wonder if it is to do with evolution. After all, surely, if faced with a choice, a sane woman wouldn't go through childbirth a second time? They say that afterwards it is all worthwhile (well, perhaps after the first 3 months... or 6 or 30 months... have been survived), but seriously? The physical logistics would suggest it is not something you'd be rushing straight back into without some serious questioning of your sanity. But I've met numerous sane and intelligent women who've gone through the process more than once. Even more than twice. And survival of the species has been dependant on women being prepared to go through it twice. Or more. Ouch.
So, my feet are back in service, and new adventures are to come.
Until next time, remember to turn the hall light on so that you don't trip over the same cat twice.
love
Ironmaiden
Thursday, May 10, 2012
Ironmatron!
Well, I knocked the bugger off! Admittedly, it turned out I am not quite as good at long distance triathlon as I might have once thought, and it also turns out that Ironman is quite hard. But I finished, and thoroughly got my money's worth on the way, only wasting 29 minutes of the allocated 17 hours by finishing a bit early.
Port Macquarie is an awesome spot, with lots of pelicans and nice Aussies and camels. The beaches are beautiful, the rainforest lush and the views scenic.
I was a bit nervous before the swim start, but to be honest not the quivering wreck I thought I might be. The biggest surprise was just how cold it was, so took advantage of the transition tent to put my wetsuit on a little early. Once encased in neoprene I was toasty. After my Taupo Half experience in December, when I had to shed my skin like a snake, I did remember to lather on the sunblock before hand. It is a strange thing to be doing on a chilly morning in total darkness.
I tootled along to the swim start felt more relaxed as I went through my race plan and watched the other competitors around me. I met John from the New Zealand Army - like me he had won a free entry to Taupo and then had to find and alternative race once Taupo was cancelled. It was good to have a bit of company while we waited to be given access to the start gantry so that we could get in the water.
The swim start was a total scrum. I loved it. We were so busy crawling over one another and dodging past that we were halfway to the first turnaround before we even noticed we were swimming. There was quite a strong upstream push from the tide which helped too. This was my first real appreciation for how valuable a bit of good old fashioned distraction would be.
My wetsuit chafed my neck raw, but I didn't even notice, because I was distracted. I am noticing now, but that is why they invented Bepanthen. Swim time: 1:27:49.
I strolled through the showers, taking the opportunity to rinse the salt off my tonsils (yes, my tonsils), then into Transition. I got changed, chatted to the volunteers who were also Ironmatrons (respect) in their own right, then went and found my beautiful bike. As I left transition I must have crossed a timing mat, because the commentator announced my name, and then said "and we won't ask who she is and we won't sing the song". I was very relieved. I have heard the song before. T1 time: 0:7:26
I loved the bike ride. It was beautiful. I really enjoyed progressing through the small coastal towns, the people were out on their lawns enjoying the race and generally being friendly and supportive. I didn't get my usual discomfort (agonising pain in all sorts of unmentionable body parts) on the bike, because I was distracted by the amazing scenery and the great crowd. Terrific. I got patted on the bum climbing a hill. You expect a bit of bum groping in the swim, but it was a new experience for me on the ride. I am 70% sure it was just a fellow competitor giving me some friendly encouragement, and 30% sure it was a dodgy bloke copping a feel. You can never be too sure with Aussies.
The steep steep Mathew Flinders pirate hill didn't disappoint. I stuck with my strategy of hopping off and walking up, and the crowd assured me many others had done the same thing. The organisers clearly anticipated this strategy, and had laid a strip of carpet up the road to make it easy totter up on our cycling cleats. I know of several people who were more heroic than me and biked almost to the top, only to get cramp and fall. Their race was over. But mine continued. Bike time: 7:57:30.
It was great to be out running, I no longer had to worry about punctures or unrecoverable mechanical issues, it was now just me and my feet. T2 time: 0:6:15
Initially had a bit of trouble settling to a sustainable pace. There were still loads of people on the course, the crowd was fresh and excitable, and I felt great. And then a wall came along and hit me in the face. To add injury to insult my felt swelled like wee puffer fish and blisters quickly arrived on my soles. I still had over 30ks to go, so I revised my strategy, , decided walking was more tolerable for my feet than running, figured out a pace I could sustain and went for it. I ended up doing a bit of a Tour de Portaloo as I didn't really adjust my hydration to accommodate the temperature drop as the sun went down. The moon came to the party though and helped with distracting me as I marched on through the night. Apparently it was the closest it has been to Earth for the last 18 years.
I had put my oldest grottiest polypro top in my run special needs bag thinking I probably wouldn't need it and it would be binned with the rest of the unwanted special needs stuff. Of course, I DID need it, so in my finish line photos I look a bit like a homeless person, or possibly someone who has escaped from an institution. And to be honest I felt a bit that way!
Walking up the finish chute was quite a surreal experience. The crowd were pretty hyped for the last 30 minutes of the race, and they really worked themselves into a frenzy. I was very pleased to see them all. Run time: 6:53:39
I didn't do so well once I stopped. I sat in the recovery area for a while, and then apparently went green and white. They bundled me in a foil blanket and monitored my blood pressure. I politely declined a saline drip, opting instead for about three cups of hot sweet tea which were incredibly restorative (I love tea).
Afterwards, my feet looked like this:
Damn! Now that is ugly. But they will heal. And now I am an Ironman. My total time was 16:32:39. My overall place was 1284th. Out of more than 1400. I don't know what happened to everybody else!
So that is the end of the Ironmaiden journey. I've enjoyed sharing it with you all and have been so lucky to have so much support from so many kind people. Now I think I will sit back for a day or two and watch my toenails fall like autumn leaves. And then I will start planning my next big adventure!
Until we meet again, never say never, as the universe will prove you wrong!
love
Ironmatron
Port Macquarie is an awesome spot, with lots of pelicans and nice Aussies and camels. The beaches are beautiful, the rainforest lush and the views scenic.
I was a bit nervous before the swim start, but to be honest not the quivering wreck I thought I might be. The biggest surprise was just how cold it was, so took advantage of the transition tent to put my wetsuit on a little early. Once encased in neoprene I was toasty. After my Taupo Half experience in December, when I had to shed my skin like a snake, I did remember to lather on the sunblock before hand. It is a strange thing to be doing on a chilly morning in total darkness.
I tootled along to the swim start felt more relaxed as I went through my race plan and watched the other competitors around me. I met John from the New Zealand Army - like me he had won a free entry to Taupo and then had to find and alternative race once Taupo was cancelled. It was good to have a bit of company while we waited to be given access to the start gantry so that we could get in the water.
The swim start was a total scrum. I loved it. We were so busy crawling over one another and dodging past that we were halfway to the first turnaround before we even noticed we were swimming. There was quite a strong upstream push from the tide which helped too. This was my first real appreciation for how valuable a bit of good old fashioned distraction would be.
My wetsuit chafed my neck raw, but I didn't even notice, because I was distracted. I am noticing now, but that is why they invented Bepanthen. Swim time: 1:27:49.
I strolled through the showers, taking the opportunity to rinse the salt off my tonsils (yes, my tonsils), then into Transition. I got changed, chatted to the volunteers who were also Ironmatrons (respect) in their own right, then went and found my beautiful bike. As I left transition I must have crossed a timing mat, because the commentator announced my name, and then said "and we won't ask who she is and we won't sing the song". I was very relieved. I have heard the song before. T1 time: 0:7:26
I loved the bike ride. It was beautiful. I really enjoyed progressing through the small coastal towns, the people were out on their lawns enjoying the race and generally being friendly and supportive. I didn't get my usual discomfort (agonising pain in all sorts of unmentionable body parts) on the bike, because I was distracted by the amazing scenery and the great crowd. Terrific. I got patted on the bum climbing a hill. You expect a bit of bum groping in the swim, but it was a new experience for me on the ride. I am 70% sure it was just a fellow competitor giving me some friendly encouragement, and 30% sure it was a dodgy bloke copping a feel. You can never be too sure with Aussies.
The steep steep Mathew Flinders pirate hill didn't disappoint. I stuck with my strategy of hopping off and walking up, and the crowd assured me many others had done the same thing. The organisers clearly anticipated this strategy, and had laid a strip of carpet up the road to make it easy totter up on our cycling cleats. I know of several people who were more heroic than me and biked almost to the top, only to get cramp and fall. Their race was over. But mine continued. Bike time: 7:57:30.
It was great to be out running, I no longer had to worry about punctures or unrecoverable mechanical issues, it was now just me and my feet. T2 time: 0:6:15
Initially had a bit of trouble settling to a sustainable pace. There were still loads of people on the course, the crowd was fresh and excitable, and I felt great. And then a wall came along and hit me in the face. To add injury to insult my felt swelled like wee puffer fish and blisters quickly arrived on my soles. I still had over 30ks to go, so I revised my strategy, , decided walking was more tolerable for my feet than running, figured out a pace I could sustain and went for it. I ended up doing a bit of a Tour de Portaloo as I didn't really adjust my hydration to accommodate the temperature drop as the sun went down. The moon came to the party though and helped with distracting me as I marched on through the night. Apparently it was the closest it has been to Earth for the last 18 years.
I had put my oldest grottiest polypro top in my run special needs bag thinking I probably wouldn't need it and it would be binned with the rest of the unwanted special needs stuff. Of course, I DID need it, so in my finish line photos I look a bit like a homeless person, or possibly someone who has escaped from an institution. And to be honest I felt a bit that way!
Walking up the finish chute was quite a surreal experience. The crowd were pretty hyped for the last 30 minutes of the race, and they really worked themselves into a frenzy. I was very pleased to see them all. Run time: 6:53:39
I didn't do so well once I stopped. I sat in the recovery area for a while, and then apparently went green and white. They bundled me in a foil blanket and monitored my blood pressure. I politely declined a saline drip, opting instead for about three cups of hot sweet tea which were incredibly restorative (I love tea).
Afterwards, my feet looked like this:
Damn! Now that is ugly. But they will heal. And now I am an Ironman. My total time was 16:32:39. My overall place was 1284th. Out of more than 1400. I don't know what happened to everybody else!
So that is the end of the Ironmaiden journey. I've enjoyed sharing it with you all and have been so lucky to have so much support from so many kind people. Now I think I will sit back for a day or two and watch my toenails fall like autumn leaves. And then I will start planning my next big adventure!
Until we meet again, never say never, as the universe will prove you wrong!
love
Ironmatron
Monday, May 7, 2012
Two days to go...
Hello everyone!
Here I am in sunny Port Macquarie. It is a spectacularly beautiful place, and I have to save after a few pre-race jitters yesterday after I registered (Ok, I was a nervous wreck and sent more than one hysterical email ) today I am feeling calm and am thoroughly looking forward to getting out there on Sunday and having a lash. To be fair, I expect to ride the emotional roller-coaster a few more times between now and then though.
I drove the bike course yesterday, it is very scenic with a few rolling hills and flat bits, plus one spectacularly steep, but mercifully short, climb up the ominously named “Mathew Flinders Drive”. I say ominous because I always thought Mathew Flinders was some notorious convict (like Ned Kelly but less loveable) but it turns out he was a famous navigator whom the Australians are very proud of. Unfortunately the idea has lodged in my brain and I am having a bit of trouble shaking it out. Similarly, I lived over half my lif believing that moose were giant cows. They aren't. They are giant deer.
I had a bit of a swim on the course yesterday. The water is warm, brown and shallow. No complaints from me. I am happy not having to contemplate starting the day with an ice-cream headache and numb particulars.
The weather forecast is looking promising, I'd say there is very little chance of lightening striking twice and this race getting cancelled/postponed/shortened/hijacked by Somalian pirates.
So I feel like everything is coming together. We have the welcome dinner and race briefing tonight, then tomorrow I will deliver my bike and put my feet up, and then all that will remain will be to pop out on Sunday and swim 3.8 ks, bike 180ks, and run a marathon. How hard can that be right?
See you on the other side,
love
Ironmaiden
Saturday, April 28, 2012
Advance to Australia Fair...
Hello Everyone
I went for a swim in the lake yesterday. It was pure madness. Cold. Rough. Stirred up. I crashed and bashed around for 18 minutes. And then I got out.
Today I packed my bike. No. I watched while it was packed for me. My spatial perception couldn't have managed that feat without prior education. I just hope I am going to be able to unpack it and put it all back together. In an appropriate arrangement, not just my usual "anything goes" type of approach.
I am starting to get everything washed and dried and ready to go. I have washed and scrubbed the soles of my running shoes and my cycling shoes. I also washed and scrubbed my beautiful bike before it went all Transformer and tucked itself into a tardis disguised as a cardboard box. I hope the Aussies are nice to me and don't demand too much unpacking in Customs.
I don't feel fit. I feel sleepy and low. But I think I don't have any benchmarks - prior to March 3rd I had been doing lots of events, but I haven't done any since, so I really feel like I am taking a leap into the unknown. And by unknown I don't just mean New South Wales (can you get Marmite there?).
OK, well, this will be my last post from Aotearoa. Next stop West Island via Vegas (that's RotoVegas obviously).
Until next time, remain open minded about going commando.
love
Ironmaiden
I went for a swim in the lake yesterday. It was pure madness. Cold. Rough. Stirred up. I crashed and bashed around for 18 minutes. And then I got out.
Today I packed my bike. No. I watched while it was packed for me. My spatial perception couldn't have managed that feat without prior education. I just hope I am going to be able to unpack it and put it all back together. In an appropriate arrangement, not just my usual "anything goes" type of approach.
I am starting to get everything washed and dried and ready to go. I have washed and scrubbed the soles of my running shoes and my cycling shoes. I also washed and scrubbed my beautiful bike before it went all Transformer and tucked itself into a tardis disguised as a cardboard box. I hope the Aussies are nice to me and don't demand too much unpacking in Customs.
I don't feel fit. I feel sleepy and low. But I think I don't have any benchmarks - prior to March 3rd I had been doing lots of events, but I haven't done any since, so I really feel like I am taking a leap into the unknown. And by unknown I don't just mean New South Wales (can you get Marmite there?).
OK, well, this will be my last post from Aotearoa. Next stop West Island via Vegas (that's RotoVegas obviously).
Until next time, remain open minded about going commando.
love
Ironmaiden
Friday, April 20, 2012
Reality Check
Far out! Time goes fast. It is now only eleven sleeps until I go to Australia to knock the bastard off. Not Australia I mean, just the Australian Ironman. I'll leave Australia just as I found it. Well mostly anyway. I'll try not to cause too much carnage.
It doesn't seem that real. I have been trying to get prepared - I have bought flights, got accommodation, figured out how to get from Sydney to Port Macquarie. Figured out how to get to Sydney. I have some of those odd Australian dollars. I even got travel insurance. I also got travel insurance for my beautiful bike. My beautiful bike cost more to insure than I did. The travel insurance people value me less than a low-mid range carbon fibre endurance geometry bicycle. It doesn't even have an engine. I wonder what they know that I don't know yet?
But I have so many questions! Will there be cane toads all over the road? What happens if you hit a cane toad on a low-mid range carbon fibre endurance geometry bicycle? Will there be sharks and crocodiles? Will there be snakes? Do they all cancel each other out? I mean, the sharks will be busy fighting the crocodiles and the toads will be fighting the snakes and I can slip by unnoticed? What if they hear me wheezy shuffling? Should I have developed stealth-mode? How do you wheeze stealthily?
Are there hills? Are there hills anywhere in Australia? Will the water be cold? Will it be warm? Will the Australians be mean to me because I am not a freakish over achiever?
Great. Well, the t-11th sleep promises to be a restful one....
Till next week, don't worry about things you can't change or influence!
love
Ironmaiden
It doesn't seem that real. I have been trying to get prepared - I have bought flights, got accommodation, figured out how to get from Sydney to Port Macquarie. Figured out how to get to Sydney. I have some of those odd Australian dollars. I even got travel insurance. I also got travel insurance for my beautiful bike. My beautiful bike cost more to insure than I did. The travel insurance people value me less than a low-mid range carbon fibre endurance geometry bicycle. It doesn't even have an engine. I wonder what they know that I don't know yet?
But I have so many questions! Will there be cane toads all over the road? What happens if you hit a cane toad on a low-mid range carbon fibre endurance geometry bicycle? Will there be sharks and crocodiles? Will there be snakes? Do they all cancel each other out? I mean, the sharks will be busy fighting the crocodiles and the toads will be fighting the snakes and I can slip by unnoticed? What if they hear me wheezy shuffling? Should I have developed stealth-mode? How do you wheeze stealthily?
Are there hills? Are there hills anywhere in Australia? Will the water be cold? Will it be warm? Will the Australians be mean to me because I am not a freakish over achiever?
Great. Well, the t-11th sleep promises to be a restful one....
Till next week, don't worry about things you can't change or influence!
love
Ironmaiden
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