A Tale Of Two Chops

Tim Don, Lausanne 2006. Kris Gemmell Auckland 2011. Following the in resplendent footsteps of such highly extolled monuments of the sport is never easy, particularly when the facial manifestations most famously associated with our hirsute pioneers also happened to be first first to break the tape in front of impressive, yet noticeably shaven rivals. Nevertheless, like a benevolent firing squad, we have deliberately aimed high. Pete Kerr and I - or Team Chops (along with associate member Bradley Wiggins) have been cultivating like a horticulturist on acid. Tomorrow, the chops ride East,  destination - Tiszaujvaros. Leave your comment below on who you think deserves the Title of Triathlon Australia’s Worst Mutton Chops, and look for the chops come Tizzie. 

Take care friends,

Willy

France Update

Evening friends, and welcome to the first blog posted whilst ‘en France’, brought to you from the well documented home away from home that is Aix Les Bains. My brief sabbatical in Japan was enough to test the legs and eat my yearly quota of rice, and thus it was straight to France to join the rest of the Aussie team, and back in the trenches of training. I’m currently sipping coffee, watching the Tour, and have just decided not to sing the song I just wrote for my room-mate Matt Brown, who flatted during his ITU race yesterday and could probably use the afternoon off my banter. In a vein effort to kill the ‘Black Hour’ i.e the time between the last training session and dinner, I thought it was high time to put quill to parchment in the name of a blog.  

Aside from the usual training, doing the 1%ers, crossing the t’s, dotting the i’s, giving 110%, and other such triathlon cliches, there is a few spare moment every now and again for leisure activities, as delineated in the following syntax. 

Digital Recreation

Last years purchase of the PS2 has made a triumphant return, and launched the inaugural Aix Les Bains FIFA tournament, due to kick off on Monday. If the passion shown in the warm up games is anything to go by, our neighbors can expect to be harangued to the sound of GOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAALLL on a regular basis. 

Financial Recreation 

The 15 min Ebay challenge. Highly recommended for anyone looking to pass some time. Find yourself a worthy adversary (In my case Browny), and giver yourselves 15 minutes and 15 Euro to buy the ‘coolest’ thing possible on Ebay. Bonus points awarded for first delivery, and the rest is judged by the rest of the squad. Pictorials of our spoils to follow upon delivery of our goods, perhaps we can start an online judged poll, but only if you vote for me over Browny...

Facial Recreation

Mutton chops. Yep, myself and fellow ‘chopper’ Pete Kerr have taken it upon ourselves to bring a taste of the 70s back to triathlon. As comfortable playing rhythm guitar for Led Zeppelin as they are in the pool or on the bike, look for myself and Pete to be repping the chops big time come Tizze World Cup. Another online poll shall decide who indeed has the most hideous facial hair, myself or Pete. 

Navigational Recreation

Showing the sense of direction of a headless chicken, I managed to turn a brisk 3 km off the bike into a vagrant’s roam across the French countryside. After 30 mins of rapidly increasing fatigue, and rapidly diminishing optimism, I chanced upon some French civilians mountain biking through the trails. Obviously not seeing the way I looked at their bikes, then a rather large rock on the ground, and then their heads, they informed me I was at least an hour away from my destination, and heading further away with each stride. Pleased with their benevolent instructions, I abandoned my previous thought of rendering them unconscious with the rock and stealing their bikes, and cut a crude path through a thick corn field in the general direction of my now somewhat frantically searching teammates. An hour and 12 kms later, with legs completely rooted by this stage, I returned to my comrades, who had turned from a rescue mission, to a recovery mission, and were busy checking ditches for a corpse with sideburns. 

For all those intrigued, next week Tizzie World Cup, the week Hamburg World Series, and possibly the Alpe D’Huez Triathlon a few days after that. Stay tuned for racing anecdotes aplenty.

Take care friends,

Willy.

Gamagori

Evening friends, this edition of the blog is brought to you by the free wifi at Hong Kong airport, and also the neighboring coffee shop owner, whose kids I have just put through college by procuring vast quantities of espresso. I’m currently whiling away a few idle hours in transit to where I join some Aussie comrades is Aix Les Bains (See here for an Aix synopsis), and am currently dividing my time between a little blogging, sampling caffeinated beverages, and observing the middle aged gentleman to my left read a comic book that he seems far to old for, loudly snort mucus through his nose, seemingly oblivious to my acrimonious eyebrow-raises. 

I’ve just departed from Gamagori, Japan, or ‘Where Robbo did THAT race’. Anyone with more than a trifling interest in triathlons who does not know of Robbo’s exploits in 2005 should make it a priority to familiarise themselves on this piece of triathlon history post-haste. Fittingly, Robbo himself was present as part of the coaching staff this time round, as the race formed part of a junior tour for some of the talented youngsters making up the future of Australian triathlon. 

Excuse me whilst I make an exaggerated stare at Nose Snorter, and let out a distinctly audible sigh. No reaction, he turns another page on the comic book, which features a large elephant holding a trumpet of some description. 

Gamagori was my long awaited return to racing for 2012, and I managed to kick things off with a win. The race went pretty well, I managed to lead out of the water with fellow Aussie and all-round-good-guy Shane Barrie, and we were soon joined by 2 others, including fellow Aussie, training partner, and all-round-good-guy Mitch Kealey. Unfortunately my compatriots drifted back to the main pack, which left me with Irish youngster, and all-round-good-guy Ben Shaw, for most of the 40 kms. After pulling solid turns with Ben, a cheeky late attack had me heading in to T2 with 30 secs on Ben, and a ‘handy’ 4 mins on the rest of the field, allowing me to ease my very green running legs back into the less-than-benevolent eventuality of running 10 kms in 35 degree heat. 

Nose Snorter has just let rip another cracker. Unless he is dictating sound effects from his comic book ‘MucusMan’ to an unseen deaf friend, I’m going to have to get a little more blatant with this guy. This time I raise my eyebrows and frown. My social cannonade is again repelled by his wall of ignorance. 

It was a pleasure to be back racing, although it took a moments rumination to get the order of the disciplines correct, although some may argue that 2 minute transition runs was worthy of calling this race a swim/run/bike/run/run. From here, it’s a few more weeks of training in France, hopefully moving the running legs from ‘not running out of sight on a dark night’ to at least, ‘getting a little difficult to see on a dull evening’.

That’s it, I’ve clearly just mimicked Nose Snorter, letting rip a snort that rivals the 747’s warming up to my left. Once again, he feigns incomprehension. I’ve had a gutfull, time to relocate next to the screaming baby…

Take care friends,

Willy

La Maison En France

Welcome friends, as we dig again into the history books, this week presenting an archival narrative penned some years ago in the pages of the underground fanzine, The SBR Guardian. Many pundits may have heard the stories of the old AIS European HQ, and for those that haven’t, the proceeding text represents but the very small tip of an anecdotal iceberg of titanic proportions. As the ITU scene shifts to Europe this weekend in Madrid, what better way to prepare than with a cursory glance at our much loved European base. 

Take care friends,

Willy

Aix Les Bains

A long time European base in France, the infamous ‘Les Platanes’ was the home away from home for many generations of Aussie triathletes. Hosted by deceptively bilingual mustached Frenchman Monsieur Doobie, ‘Les Platanes’ was the accommodation of choice, a hotel full of ‘character’, in our much loved Aix Les Bains base. Highlighted with brilliant training facilities, Aix is a splendid place to spend the Euro summer, located a stone’s throw from any Euro races. 

Les Platanes

Sadly, the long term abode has finally been demolished as of 2010, yet the anecdotes lay firmly entrenched in the minds of all who stayed there. Notes on the notorious ‘Les Platanes’ accommodation include:

• The rooms – Petit, as the French would say, is an apt description of the old facilities. Sharing a room requires OCD-like neatness to maximize room space, while it is not uncommon to roll over in bed, and wake up three rooms down. 

• The showers – Preparation is the key. Many athletes choose to start running their shower prior to leaving for a long ride, increasing the chances that hot water will be flowing in time for the post-workout shower. The curtains also possess an anaconda like ability to wrap around your body, and many athletes emerge from the shower deeply cleaned, and lightly throttled. 

• The Locks – The infrequently used flats down at Le Grande Port, feature self locking doors. Keep this in mind, as there is apparently no French word for ‘Spare Key’, and locking yourself out requires the services of a locksmith for re-entry. A lengthy process, made less dignified by waiting around in sans-shirt running attire. 

• The stairs – Those un/lucky enough to land a third story room could book themselves in for a good season, as the extra fitness gained from climbing the 34 stairs several times a day has been known to provide an supplementary boost in run form. Some negatives include loss of sleep, as athletes have been known to stay at dinner until the late hours of the night, while they summon the enthusiasm for the arduous ascent. 

• The Roofs – In mid-2006 it was discovered that the ceilings to the old residences had the rare and remarkable ability to sporadically hold a coin flicked with the appropriate amount of force and dexterity. Thus, the game Roofcoin was born. A complex game combining elements of darts, dodgeball, and Russian Roulette, many a raucous game of Roofcoin passed the idle hours before dinner, and it is estimated that upwards of $100 Euro in loose change was lost with the buildings recent demolition. 

The Training

• Swim – Cleanest pool in France. Cleaned vigorously and religiously, you could eat off the dive blocks, and perform minor surgery on pool deck. Note: You may require major surgery should you wear shoes on the aforementioned deck, as the staff are passionate about their rules. 

Easily the best view in France as well. Take a breath and see the mountains and lake in all their splendor, and can almost take you mind off a heart rate set. Almost. 

Take a dip in the lake for an open-water swim set, but try not to attract the ire of the easily irritated ‘marins’ (sailors), ‘pechures’ (fishermen) and especially the ‘gendarmerie’ (police).

• Bike – Brilliant cycling to be had. Lap of the lake is a standard 2 hours, with anything but standard views to be had from the top of the climb. Popular loops include Le grande revard (3 hrs), Annecy Loop (4 hrs), or the Bakery (3 mins).

• Run - Take a cruise along the Boulevard for a recovery run, head to the Hippo for some trails, or take in the new path next to the Lake for some fartlek. Alternatively, drive up to Chambrey for a track session. Known as the hottest track in France, mid-summer sessions are not measured by distance or speed, but by how many eggs have been cooked on the track per effort.

The Language

The following represents a few frequently used French phrases, used to communicate with the eclectic ‘Les Platanes’ staff:

• Crepes plus sil vous plait – More crepes please

• Ce poulet est cru – This chicken is raw

• Oiu, crepes encore plus sil vous plait – Yes, even more crepes please

• Ce poulet est trop cuit – This chicken is overcooked

• Ah aller, un autre serie de crepes – ah go on, one more round of crepes

• Se mefier - Beware

• En colere - Angry

• Francais - Frenchman

• Beware of the angry Frenchman – Mefiez-vous des Francais en colere

The following represents seldom used French phrases, i.e, don’t waste your time learning these ones:

• Ce poulet est parfait – This chicken is perfect

• Ce que cela contient de la crème – Does this contain crème? (always yes)

• Crepes de trop nombreux –Too many crepes

• Quoi, ne pas croissants pour le petit dejeuner? – What, no croissants for breakfast?

Despite the ribbing, ‘Les Platanes’ holds a special place in the hearts of all fortunate enough to spend a summer among the welcoming locals, however no great compunction was shown following the change of domiciles to the present, somewhat more luxurious, quarters. 

Onboard @ Battle On The Border

Welcome friends, to the long awaited sequel to the Wideos With Wilson series. Readers of the previous syntax will have no doubt been biting their fingernails all weekend, feverishly hitting refresh, eager for news from the Battle On The Border. My brief sojourn playing cyclist was quite enjoyable, albeit unfamiliar, without the usual swim/run sandwich bookending the efforts on two wheels. I rode fairly strongly throughout the weekend, and enjoyed the hills, terrain which the local Brisbane crits are lamentably devoid of. I finished 7th overall on GC, and awarded myself the ‘First Triathletes Jersey’, a diversificationists equivalent of the Young Riders Jersey. Enjoy the following multimedia presentation...

Take care friends,

Willy

Feelin' The Need, For The Tour De Tweed

Welcome friends, to another installment on the Words. The current rehab to my most lamentable malady has lead to a distinctly un-blogworthy existence over the preceding weeks, thus the lack of recent reports, as an unpalatable series of monographs detailing repetitive swim/bike miles, and progressively increasing run miles, would no doubt bore your author as much as my venerated audience. 

However, just as we were in dire risk of another loosely triathlon-related anecdote of years gone by, I finally have a race preview to finally pull me into line with the triathlon blogs of my peers, and holds some flimsy evidence against the argument for a triathletes blog, there is a gaping hole where the ‘triathlons’ should be. 

Now, I’m not quite there yet (stress fracture rehab going well, but not quite at 10km race pace yet...), but on the weekend I’ll compete in the Battle On The Border, or the Tour de Tweed, by another alias. Given the reduced run miles of late have given me ample opportunity to make significant headway on my swim/bike strength, we decided it would be a good way to test the fitness and satisfy my overwhelming desire for competition. Described as an ‘All you can eat buffet of pain... and you’ve brought a doggie bag’, I’ll be sucking wheels off some of the best Aussie riders going, I’m hoping to acquire some bike speed via osmosis. Check out the program:

Sat AM - 9km ITT

Sat AM (still!) - 146 km Road Race

Sun - 129 km Road Race

Mon - 40 mins + 3 laps Criterium

Significantly, the terrain we ride over has been described like my attempts at making gravy- very lumpy,  and thus there might not be as much easy riding as my legs might like.

Stay tuned for some narratives of suffering on two wheels, I’ll try to throw a camera on for the Criterium, as long as it doesn’t mess with my aerodynamics...

Take care friends,

Willy

PS This is close to what goes on in my head sometimes when training alone…

Doppelgangers, Beards and Hot Dog Flavoured Pizza

Seasons greetings to you all, friends, and I trust the significance of this much venerated respite is rich in your cognisance as you put the feet up, and some easter eggs down over the weekend. Having become somewhat familiar with the average athletes daily schematics over the last few years, it’s possible to ruminate that not too much is different for a triathlete over Easter - training continues, as does ungodly amounts of chocolate consumption, albeit in a more egg-shaped form than usual. At this point, it may be shrewd to note that it has taken a steadfast will, as well as sage advice from others to resist the urge to segue into a barrage of egg related puns. Given that free range on the gags is currently embargoed, allow me to drift back to the spirit of the holidays we currently enjoy. 

My current mantra aspires towards a zeitgeist largely concerned with a healthy, and uninjured body. A brief recourse over the history of my last 18 has come to the conclusion that my lower limb health has a reciprocal relationship with the health of my facial hair, and thus the maxim, ‘healthy beard - healthy body’ was born. The forthcoming comments garnered have come the conclusion that such growth has me resembling many common depictions of the very man this holiday remembers, i.e. one J Christ. Apparently not my only doppelganger, and interestingly, a reflection of the type of person can be seen by who they think I resemble. Think of it like the beard equivalent of the Rorschach inkblot test.

Religious Types : J Christ

American History Buffs : Abraham Lincoln 

Australian History Buffs : Ned Kelly

Musicians : Angus Stone

Runners : Forrest Gump

Aircraft Engineers : Tom Hanks circa Castaway years

Toy Manufacturers : A young Santa

Comic Book Fans : Wolverine

Comedians : Zach Galifianakis 

Peace Lovers : John Lennon

War Lovers : Che Guevara

Almost everyone : A lycra wearing hobo

Hmmm, consensus perhaps?

Lastly, enjoy your chocolate tomorrow, and if you think you have overindulged, you haven’t. Not unless you’ve had this. Courtesy of the good people at Pizza Hut UK, the hot dog stuffed pizza. And before you ask, I definitely wasn’t googling hot dog stuffed pizza when I stumbled across this. No meat on Good Friday wasn’t that hard...

Happy Easter friends.

Willy