So, another year has passed, and with such concatenation comes the convivial conventions of watching NYE fireworks on TV from somewhere more fun, humming along to Auld Lang Syne because you’ve failed last years resolution to learn the words, and defiantly placing a new calendar upon the wall despite the fact that you now use Facebook to remember birthdays and your smartphone to remember appointments. Among the blogging cognoscenti, countdowns, top 10’s and best/worst lists are the ubiquitous narrative of choice, and with cursory heed to the propriety of this site, I present to you the second annual Words Yearbook.
Favourites of the Year
Favourite Races of The Year
- Kitzbuhel. The swim was flat, the first few kms were flat, followed by a lamentable vicissitude in gradient, with a climb that would have a seasoned sherpa reaching for the asthma puffer. Didn’t race particularly well, but can wax lyrical to anyone not present, “You don’t know man, you weren’t there...”
- Ishigaki. Returning to the fishing island after a 5 year absence, I was again reminded that despite Japan’s numerous contributions over the years to technological ingenuity, in my book, their finest invention is the Pocky, a simple, chocolate covered pretzel.
- London. Despite living up to it’s reputation as being wetter than a carp’s armpit, the fans lining the course made it as crowded as the English cricket teams psychologist’s waiting room. Ears were ringing post-race like after a Led Zeppelin concert.
Favourite Swim: Production/Removal. Lactate rising and falling like a yo-yo convention for roughly 3 km of main set, and more pain than a sandpaper jockstrap.
Favourite Run: The Little Diniel and the Lads Track Club 5km Invitational. A spiteful encounter with former housemate Jack Curran and a host of others. Pre-race smack talk rivaled any Mundine bout, and I was gutted when Curran took the Golden Watermelon trophy with a hard fought victory. Next year Curran, next year.
Best/Worst/Biggest’s of the year
Best race: London, World Champs. 18th. Best race over the three disciplines I put together all year.
Most Satisfying Race: Ishigaki World Cup. 3rd. Fun to share the podium with serial stem-chewer Ryan Fisher, and all round good guy Bryan Keane. Post -race banter waiting to pass anti-doping was all-time brilliant.Worst Race: Kitzbuhel, WTS series. 28th. You don’t know man, you weren’t there…
Best Living Up To Pre-race Smack Talk: Ishigaki World Cup. Fisher and I boldly claimed pre-race that the only bike that could stay with us would be the cameraman, and even he would be lucky. Admittedly assisted by pretty much everyone else crashing, the 3-then-2 man break-away matched our vivid, pre-race prognostication almost word for word.
Worst Living Up To In-Race Smack Talk (Self): “Stay on my wheel and you’ll finish 2nd” (D. Wilson, mid-crit, Brisbane) Result: 2nd-last.
Worst Living Up To In-Race Smack Talk (Other): “This Frenchy, is stomping, he’ll win by 2 minutes, I’ll take your bet Kealey”, D. Wilson, said watching the Tour, after which the aforementioned Frenchy promptly ceased stomping, and was lucky to make the time limit by the end of the stage, losing both my respect, and my bet to Mitch Kealey.
Biggest Loss of Power (Legs): “Yeah, I think I’m back, watch this!”. Declaring to have once again found my running legs after building back from injury, I then put on an exhibition of my worst running session all year, to a skeptical QAS sports scientist.
Biggest Loss of Power (Electricity): Following some apocalyptic storms in Brisbane, the famous Toowong Academy of Sport lost power for the best part of a week, leading to myself and housemates Jamie Laverty and Jack Curran cooking by the light of a iPhone on the neighbors BBQ and playing guitar in the dark, concocting songs featuring derisive lyrics about Energex’s apathy.
Biggest Loss of Fruit: Thieves broke into my house whilst I was auditorily inhibited by the white noise of the altitude tent. They absconded with $5 AUD, a Garmin watch, and 1 Packham pear. Police have been fruitless so far in apprehending the perpetrators, but believe the incident may be linked to several stone-fruit robberies in the area.
Best Purchase: The coffee machine that now fuels Cafe de Wilson, Brisbane’s best espresso bar.
Worst Purchase: The commercial sized coffee machine I bought prior to the above on impulse off ebay. To run it it required 3 -phase power (Don’t have), complicated plumbing (Don’t have) and ample space (Don’t have). Most importantly, it also required not to have been inhabited by some latte loving rats, who had chewed through most of the electrical wiring. I’m now using it as a stool when I need to reach some of the higher cupboards.
Album: Subrosa - More Constant Than The Gods. A journey, an experience, a pleasure.
Coffee: Ethiopian Karote, served as a V60 by LTD (Brisbane). Like being hit in the face with a sackful of limes, stone fruit and syrup. Except pleasant, not painful, and coffee tasting.
TV: The Thick Of It. Witty dialogue at a quicker pace than a Kienle bike split.
Book: The 100 Year Old Man Who Climbed Out of the Window and Disappeared - Jonas Jonasson. Brilliant narrative featuring the most idiosyncratic turn of phrase I’ve ever sampled. As a wordsmith, inspiring and entertaining.
Journal: The Counseling Psychologist. A staple in the reference list of my uni assignments.
Magazine: Australian Triathlete. Jeez, that bloke who writes the back page article is a genius... Who’s with me?
Video Clip: Callum Millward’s effort. Brilliant.
Beard: Beard Brother Pete Kerr @ Hamburg. Could have stepped in for ZZ Top at a pinch.
Moe: All the Mo-Bros from the Fire Breathing Rubber Duckies. $ 7,210 raised, well done lads, and to all who donated.
Thanks for joining me for another year, tune in for another 12 months of irrelevance and irreverence, and as always, grab a copy of Australian Triathlete for some more yarns from yours truly.
Take care friends,