Most sorry triathlon tale (a little long)

Triathlon Forum
1

So I’m bored, reminiscing about past triathlon exploits and thought I would recall my most unfortunate tri experience. How bout telling me a story, this is my true story.

IM Japan 1997. Between jobs, living in Singapore which is the flatest, humidest, most traffic light filled place I know. Not the ideal bike training environment but plenty good enough for swimming and running. Anyway 6 months of riding around a 25km loop and I was set. off to japan by myself.

Fly in to Japan, Hikone is the town on the shores of Lake Biwa (Biwako). Arrive on a Sunday evening after a 13 hr flight, transfers from planes to trains to buses and I’m in the hotel. As you do as an IM athlete I was starving. it was about 6.30pm and do you think I could find a restarurant? seemed nothing was open and my small hotel didn’t have any food for sale either. So off for a quick walk, I find a little store and convince the nice japanese lady with sign language to give me the only tin of sphag bol in the place, buy some noodles and I’m good to go.

Get back to the hotel and there is a sign in English in my room (which I had missed) no cooking allowed. Hmmm. nothing for it but to put the spag bol in the kettle and boil the noodles in there as well. After 15 minutes I had a nice hot sphag bol tin, cooked pasta but realised I had nothing to open the tin with. Ah yes that’s what screw drivers are for. Tin open, now what to eat everything off…oh well clean ash tray and eating with hands will work…man I was hungry.

The pre race week went nicely, met a few westerners, talked shop and did a few miles. Went to the expo, cultural activities etc etc. I had arranged to meet a Japanese bike shop owner I had met on a previous trip to IM Japan and he invited me to dinner. So off we go to the usual japanese style restaurant. Shoes off and leave them out the front. After a nice meal I come outside and go to put my shoes on. Everyone has a pair except for me. They gotta be here somewhere right? Nope, it seems that shoe thievery is very much common in Japan. Normally this wouldn’t have bothered me but my shoes happened to be my race shoes complete with my ownly pair of orthotics. This was the Thursday before the race, so not alot of time to make other arrangements.

My Japanese friend graciously drives my to Osaka and back (the toll bridges really cost so Iwas very grateful to him) to a shoe specialist that sells me a similar pair of shoes and makes some foam orthotics for me. This took all of Friday and I only just made it back to the compulsory briefing in time. I was a little stressed coz the Japanese do like to stick closely to their rules and I was worried about missing this meeting.

Anyway the last few pre-race functions come and go and it is hard not to notice that the weather has turned bad. So bad that it appears a typhoon is going to cross nearby on the saturday night before the sunday race. race morning and it’s howling, all the swim bouys have been blown away and the Japanese swimmers are very worried.

I had swum in worse but the standard of japanese swimmer back then meant the organisers were reall concerned. By the time we had walked to the swim start in our wetsuits (about 1km) the swim portion had been cancelled and the event changed into a 180km bike 42 km run. So walk back to the transition, off with the wettie and get the bike ready. There was 800 racers goining off in numerical order 15 sec apart. The race order was pros, women pros, male foreigners, women foreigners, japanese in alphabetical order. The whole lot would take over 3 hours to get going and this would mean you wouldn’t know how you went til the results came out.

Anyway off we go and it’s not too bad, considering were riding in a typhoon and all. The foreigners spread out and I dont think I saw more than 10 people for the first 3 hours. On the out and back loops, which there were many, I start to see large packs approaching. so after the 3 hour mark some groups of japanese start going past me… riding tight, real tight. Nevermind I says and keep pushing on. I had a mind to try and qualify for Hawaii so I was trying to keep some idea of the score. This went on periodically until the 5 hour mark where I fell to pieces as 2 then 3 real big packs went by me.

I grovelled into T2(actuallyT1) and felt absolutely terrible. 5hr 37…man that typhon seems to have abated but those winds really took it out of me. Michael McCormack was the only guy to go under 5 hours and he did 4.47, alot of the pros did 5-5.10 which sure made me feel better after the race but at that time I felt miserable.

It was about this time I started to think about the meaning of doing an IM without a swim. For me a decent time(for me) is the only thing I have to aim at. Suddenly it dawned on me that no matter how good a day I had it wouldn’t be a triathlon. So here I was sitting in the changing tent that was only just avoiding been blown away. I was shattered and had this great mental battle going on about what’s it all for?

Somehow I get out the door and start moving. After 5 minutes surprise, I started to feel ok. Soon the kms start going by rather nicely. My feet start to ache…hmm that’s normal it’s an IM for petes sake. Then I start to notice it’s getting hot. It seems that typhoon and it’s cold front has gone to be replaced by a nice high system. anyway it seems later I found out it got to about 35C. Anyway as per usual the last 10km become a war of attritition with the heat and my aching feet. The thought of having my regular shoes and orthotics did cross my mind.

If you have ever done the old IM Japan course you would know that it’s a point to point course that winds all over the place. None of these nice loops to judge pacing to the finish. You very much rely on the km markers. Anyway I’m starting to dig deep and trying to pace everything to nicely finish on the fumes right at the line. Some how it all goes horribly wrong and I start to go cross eyed. I see the 40km marker and think beauty, only 10minutes more. My watch said 3hr on the dot of running. Great could do a pb here. This sounds rational now but at the time it wasn’t so easy to think straight and this simple thought took along time to get clear. When I ran past the 41km marker I decided to give a big final effort. So I pick up the pace and run around the next corner and then the next and the next and another. Bloody hell where is that finish? soon in the distance I see the stadium where the finish is.

Eventually I make it to the stadium (I’m running flat out at this stage) and stumble around the track and try to look good for the finishers photo. I obviously didn’t do a good job because my finishers photo has me completely obsured by my gesticulating arms. Never mind, lucky they got that much as a moment later I am on the floor and two moments later I am in the med tent. 4 bags later and I can start to see straight and talk. But who would I talk to, no one speaks english and the race is so staggered that the finishers will take many hours to come in. After a while I see a european who turns out to be Peter Kropko. he has nice blood covered shoes and I find out that he just managed to beat Michael McCormack in a sprint … bloody good work Peter. I talk to him for a while and soon the time has flown and more athletes start filtering in. All this time I am messaging to self…dont do a big race by yourself again (bring a support crew next time).

Eventually I decide to get the shuttle back to the hotel. I feel ok, about normal for doing an IM and having 4L of saline pumped into you and struggle up the bus steps. On the trip back to the hotel I start to feel queasy and realise I’m goanna be sick. Of course it’s hard to communicate with non english speakers especially if you have your hand over your mouth. Somehow the bus stops and I’m outside in a flash doing my thing. When I’m done I look over at the bus and a nice long row of people are looking at me out of the windows. I’m dont really care as being sick made me feel better. Back on the bus and soon I’m the last one left. Dropped off at the hotel and guess what…no food. Bloody hell this is the god damn IM here, I’m starving. Luckily Macdonalds is open so I top off a great day with a big mack.

The awards go well and I find out that my last 2km took me 20minutes as I did a 3.20 run along with a 5.37 bike for a 9.09 overall time. Good enough for a hawaii spot. After the beating I had taken I decided to pass. (Just as well as 97 was one of the harder years in hawaii)

The rest of the trip proceeded nicely until I went to check out at the airport. It seems I have excess baggage. After 2 hours of trying to talk my way out of it, japanese rules is rules means I have to pay close to $800Sg excess. Damm. Oh well. That would have been ok except when I got home I found that the drop out protector I had put in my rear stays had fallen out and failed to protect my stays from being crushed inwards by 2cm. The result a ruined bike. So after a trouble filled race I got charged excess baggae and had my bike ruined. Could it get any worse? No wait it could… it seems a few weeks later I have shin splints due to running in strange shoes.

It took me a while to get over that race.

My next IM was in 1999 and was my first DNF where I had 3 flats on the bike…It’s taken a while to get over that and who knows maybe I might even do an IM this year.

So let me hear your worst tri story.

cheers

Andrew

2

So I’m bored, reminiscing about past triathlon exploits and thought I would recall my most unfortunate tri experience. How bout telling me a story, this is my true story.

IM Japan 1997. Between jobs, living in Singapore which is the flatest, humidest, most traffic light filled place I know. Not the ideal bike training environment but plenty good enough for swimming and running. Anyway 6 months of riding around a 25km loop and I was set. off to japan by myself.

Fly in to Japan, Hikone is the town on the shores of Lake Biwa (Biwako). Arrive on a Sunday evening after a 13 hr flight, transfers from planes to trains to buses and I’m in the hotel. As you do as an IM athlete I was starving. it was about 6.30pm and do you think I could find a restarurant? seemed nothing was open and my small hotel didn’t have any food for sale either. So off for a quick walk, I find a little store and convince the nice japanese lady with sign language to give me the only tin of sphag bol in the place, buy some noodles and I’m good to go.

Get back to the hotel and there is a sign in English in my room (which I had missed) no cooking allowed. Hmmm. nothing for it but to put the spag bol in the kettle and boil the noodles in there as well. After 15 minutes I had a nice hot sphag bol tin, cooked pasta but realised I had nothing to open the tin with. Ah yes that’s what screw drivers are for. Tin open, now what to eat everything off…oh well clean ash tray and eating with hands will work…man I was hungry.

The pre race week went nicely, met a few westerners, talked shop and did a few miles. Went to the expo, cultural activities etc etc. I had arranged to meet a Japanese bike shop owner I had met on a previous trip to IM Japan and he invited me to dinner. So off we go to the usual japanese style restaurant. Shoes off and leave them out the front. After a nice meal I come outside and go to put my shoes on. Everyone has a pair except for me. They gotta be here somewhere right? Nope, it seems that shoe thievery is very much common in Japan. Normally this wouldn’t have bothered me but my shoes happened to be my race shoes complete with my ownly pair of orthotics. This was the Thursday before the race, so not alot of time to make other arrangements.

My Japanese friend graciously drives my to Osaka and back (the toll bridges really cost so Iwas very grateful to him) to a shoe specialist that sells me a similar pair of shoes and makes some foam orthotics for me. This took all of Friday and I only just made it back to the compulsory briefing in time. I was a little stressed coz the Japanese do like to stick closely to their rules and I was worried about missing this meeting.

Anyway the last few pre-race functions come and go and it is hard not to notice that the weather has turned bad. So bad that it appears a typhoon is going to cross nearby on the saturday night before the sunday race. race morning and it’s howling, all the swim bouys have been blown away and the Japanese swimmers are very worried.

I had swum in worse but the standard of japanese swimmer back then meant the organisers were reall concerned. By the time we had walked to the swim start in our wetsuits (about 1km) the swim portion had been cancelled and the event changed into a 180km bike 42 km run. So walk back to the transition, off with the wettie and get the bike ready. There was 800 racers goining off in numerical order 15 sec apart. The race order was pros, women pros, male foreigners, women foreigners, japanese in alphabetical order. The whole lot would take over 3 hours to get going and this would mean you wouldn’t know how you went til the results came out.

Anyway off we go and it’s not too bad, considering were riding in a typhoon and all. The foreigners spread out and I dont think I saw more than 10 people for the first 3 hours. On the out and back loops, which there were many, I start to see large packs approaching. so after the 3 hour mark some groups of japanese start going past me… riding tight, real tight. Nevermind I says and keep pushing on. I had a mind to try and qualify for Hawaii so I was trying to keep some idea of the score. This went on periodically until the 5 hour mark where I fell to pieces as 2 then 3 real big packs went by me.

I grovelled into T2(actuallyT1) and felt absolutely terrible. 5hr 37…man that typhon seems to have abated but those winds really took it out of me. Michael McCormack was the only guy to go under 5 hours and he did 4.47, alot of the pros did 5-5.10 which sure made me feel better after the race but at that time I felt miserable.

It was about this time I started to think about the meaning of doing an IM without a swim. For me a decent time(for me) is the only thing I have to aim at. Suddenly it dawned on me that no matter how good a day I had it wouldn’t be a triathlon. So here I was sitting in the changing tent that was only just avoiding been blown away. I was shattered and had this great mental battle going on about what’s it all for?

Somehow I get out the door and start moving. After 5 minutes surprise, I started to feel ok. Soon the kms start going by rather nicely. My feet start to ache…hmm that’s normal it’s an IM for petes sake. Then I start to notice it’s getting hot. It seems that typhoon and it’s cold front has gone to be replaced by a nice high system. anyway it seems later I found out it got to about 35C. Anyway as per usual the last 10km become a war of attritition with the heat and my aching feet. The thought of having my regular shoes and orthotics did cross my mind.

If you have ever done the old IM Japan course you would know that it’s a point to point course that winds all over the place. None of these nice loops to judge pacing to the finish. You very much rely on the km markers. Anyway I’m starting to dig deep and trying to pace everything to nicely finish on the fumes right at the line. Some how it all goes horribly wrong and I start to go cross eyed. I see the 40km marker and think beauty, only 10minutes more. My watch said 3hr on the dot of running. Great could do a pb here. This sounds rational now but at the time it wasn’t so easy to think straight and this simple thought took along time to get clear. When I ran past the 41km marker I decided to give a big final effort. So I pick up the pace and run around the next corner and then the next and the next and another. Bloody hell where is that finish? soon in the distance I see the stadium where the finish is.

Eventually I make it to the stadium (I’m running flat out at this stage) and stumble around the track and try to look good for the finishers photo. I obviously didn’t do a good job because my finishers photo has me completely obsured by my gesticulating arms. Never mind, lucky they got that much as a moment later I am on the floor and two moments later I am in the med tent. 4 bags later and I can start to see straight and talk. But who would I talk to, no one speaks english and the race is so staggered that the finishers will take many hours to come in. After a while I see a european who turns out to be Peter Kropko. he has nice blood covered shoes and I find out that he just managed to beat Michael McCormack in a sprint … bloody good work Peter. I talk to him for a while and soon the time has flown and more athletes start filtering in. All this time I am messaging to self…dont do a big race by yourself again (bring a support crew next time).

Eventually I decide to get the shuttle back to the hotel. I feel ok, about normal for doing an IM and having 4L of saline pumped into you and struggle up the bus steps. On the trip back to the hotel I start to feel queasy and realise I’m goanna be sick. Of course it’s hard to communicate with non english speakers especially if you have your hand over your mouth. Somehow the bus stops and I’m outside in a flash doing my thing. When I’m done I look over at the bus and a nice long row of people are looking at me out of the windows. I’m dont really care as being sick made me feel better. Back on the bus and soon I’m the last one left. Dropped off at the hotel and guess what…no food. Bloody hell this is the god damn IM here, I’m starving. Luckily Macdonalds is open so I top off a great day with a big mack.

The awards go well and I find out that my last 2km took me 20minutes as I did a 3.20 run along with a 5.37 bike for a 9.09 overall time. Good enough for a hawaii spot. After the beating I had taken I decided to pass. (Just as well as 97 was one of the harder years in hawaii)

The rest of the trip proceeded nicely until I went to check out at the airport. It seems I have excess baggage. After 2 hours of trying to talk my way out of it, japanese rules is rules means I have to pay close to $800Sg excess. Damm. Oh well. That would have been ok except when I got home I found that the drop out protector I had put in my rear stays had fallen out and failed to protect my stays from being crushed inwards by 2cm. The result a ruined bike. So after a trouble filled race I got charged excess baggae and had my bike ruined. Could it get any worse? No wait it could… it seems a few weeks later I have shin splints due to running in strange shoes.

It took me a while to get over that race.

My next IM was in 1999 and was my first DNF where I had 3 flats on the bike…It’s taken a while to get over that and who knows maybe I might even do an IM this year.

So let me hear your worst tri story.

cheers

Andrew

yikes…it must have really suck.

3

Sorry about spelling cant be arsed What a waste of time this event was it all started the day before the event with shocking weather conditions this was the same day as the rego and it was discussed there at the rego that the swim might be cancelled so you would have to think that img and the organisers would come up with a plan B if it was to rough obviously not. We woke at 5am we all had breakfast and everyone was quite concerned when we looked out the window of the appartment and saw waves belting into the sure and the trees bending by the wind so we all drove down to transition alot of people were there setting up there bikes so i put my bottles on my bike down all the usual stuff and every 5 minutes or so Mike Riley would reasure us the usual crap. 7am was race start it was 6.30am and everyone was looking for shelter from the cold wind we all stood in the main tent i bumped into Bill Whalley and we stood together anyway 7.00am they announce due to the conditions the swim will be cancelled and we were all advised to leave and come back at 8.15am I left with Bill and we went back to his place up the road for a while 8.15 we head back down to Transition and everyone crammed into the tent then suddenly it started to fall down everyone scrammeld out what a disaster what the fuck is going on Mike Riley voice appeared he was trying to tell these funny jokes but i dont think anyone was interested i no i wasnt then some dick head proposes to his wive to be she said yes how romantic ??? any way back to the race 9am the race organiser gets the mike and tells us it will be a one lap race 90km bike and 23km run and it will start at 11.15am we all jumped in the car and went home we oppened up the curtins in the house which over looks the lake and there was a dude on a surfboard catching waves i will send you the pics. 10.30am we rock up to transitions again there were heaps of dudes leaving who couldnt be fucked we all got organised and then at 11.15 the first rider was off 5 sec break then another in numerical order some people didnt leave until 1 pm but because the couse crosses itself they were running out of time so i think they let the last hundred or so go at once just like a road race. Wasnt to bad out there it was always going to be tough ok it was fucken tough but the times where still fast we all finnished we got our medals and a poofy pink towel and went home feeling a little ripped off . I think IMG shoud of known the conditions and made a disussion alot early than they did i think they could of cancelled the swim but left the rest of the race wich everyone had trained for in stead of piss farting everyone arround all day if worse came to worse and the conditions got worse they could of canncelled it during the day I thaught the discission from IMG was Fucken Piss Poor Pathetic and hope the choke on my $600 entry fee Decy

4

Thats Ironman New Zealand by the way

Decy

Train Hard Race Harder
.

5

I got about five lines into it, re-read and re-read to make sense. It didn’t, so I couldn’t be arsed.

Shame, I would have read it if it was fathomable.

6

punctuation and paragraphs
.

7

Andy

Absolutely entertaining ! Very well written and well fought battle.

I have told you my worst race in person , for the rest well , to summarise…

IM Western Australia 2004 , first attempt at IM.

Travelled down from Singapore and no incidents until the race.

Start the swim , 2 squarish loops of Geographe Bay and it is nothing like the picture postcard of calm on the respective website. Three foot swells and buoys being shifted around the bay , made the swim , well , for lack of a better word , nauseating.

1hr 43 mins later I exited the swim , reminding myself that although at the back of the pack , it is not a swimming race.

Hopped on my bike and got settled into a comfortable pace , a short while later I approached the first hydration station where I decided to fill my aero-bottle which I had already drank after my long swim. Was handed a bottle as I cruised by at ±35km/hr on the flat course , as I started to squeeze into my aero-bottle I somehow lost control of my aerobars and in slow motion , saw my front wheel perpendicular to the frame…and down I went.

I landed and promptly jumped up ( out of embarrasment really ) as I saw a cameraman who had been at the hydration station filming me and asking whether I was ok or not ? But of course , I collected my gels and other race paraphanelia I had ,that had spilled onto the road banged my seat and bars and brakes into place and was off within about 2 mins.

Then I decided to acknowledge the pain. I had actually landed with my right rib cage landing on the aerobar extensions fracturing 2 ribs and some cartlidge. The left shoulder then caught some road rash which I could live with.

Breathing and expanding my lungs became increasingly more laboured,but I was dog gone determined that I was going to continue and not allow anything to get in my way,of completing an IM.

Having travelled roughly 6 hours plus a 2.5 hour drive to get there and have trained solidly for the good part of 7 months helped me dig deep to push through the 3 , 60km loops.

As I entered T2 , the road rash was quite obvious and as I had planned to change into running gear , I was scared to be taken out of the race by race doctors , so I changed quickly and was off.

Running was excruciating as I felt I could only expand my lungs slightly. Also every step shook the rib cage .

On a positive note , my legs felt fine because all of the pain was really centralized around the rib cage.

Anyway , I chipped away around the 3 loops and put on a fake smile everytime I passed my wife , who hadn’t noticed my road rash until now , luckily.

Fast forward and after posting a 6.13 bike split , 5.05 shuffle , I was officially an IM in 12.55.

A nurse insisted on checking my road rash , which led to a doctor being called because I had taken a sspill , which led to an all over physical.

Well my right rib cage was a purplish black , about the size of a grapefruit , which the race doctor figured could indicate liver damage or a punctured lung.

Well , not being a doctor , but I was pretty much certain that endorphins can only lead you so far. My wife started to cry as they insisted I go by ambulance to the hospital and not in our car which was 2 blocks away.

After 8 x-rays ( which some huge female nurse lifted me like I was a little bitch , onto the table ) , 2 IV’s and a lung function test. I was sent on my way , but advised to stop by in the morning before flying off to Singapore later that day.

That’s my best race sad - story , so much for summarising :slight_smile:

8

which some huge female nurse lifted me like I was a little bitch , onto the table
I just spit pepsi all over my keyboard!

9

Where are the periods?

10

There is One, actually two if you count the one in the time.

the house which over looks the lake and there was a dude on a surfboard catching waves i will send you the pics. 10.30am we rock up to transitions

Edit: damn found a couple more

11

Ouch. Here’s my version:

IMFL04, I am pretty well prepared for a long flat race in the mid 90s…and then a storm moves in 2 days before the race. It’s cold, it’s raining, it might rain on race day. I live in central Floriduh and it hasn’t been below 75F at NIGHT yet this year, and only once in a while drops below 50F in January!

Race morning comes, it’s 44F out on the beach. My hands and feet are numb. I am fumbling around setting things up, my muscles are all too tight to move. The only thing keeping me warm on the beach is my wetsuit and swim cap. By the time the swim starts I can’t feel my fingers or toes, and about 5 minutes in the feeling comes back with a rush of tingling pain. The water is way warmer than the air…ugh. Some idiot frog-kicks his way around the first buoy and hits me in the left shoulder hard. I came out of the water reluctantly at 1:21 and shivered my way through T1.

Leaving T1 in a pathetic 10 minutes, I of course only had a sleeveless jersey and no gloves…it’s my standard dress. It wasn’t too bad initially roaring past everyone, but I nearly froze to death in the shady areas just past the bridge. At mile 33 I reached back to my jersey pocket for my baggie of Endurolytes, Thermotabs, Calcets, etc…and it was gone. I didn’t have a spare bag so all I had was water in my bottle and a couple of Gus until the special needs. By then I was already starting to cramp up, and I staved off cramps until mile ~80. My right quad cramps, and while I am coasting down stretching my quad…my right HAMSTRING locks up!!! So here I am coasting at ~14mph with opposing muscles cramped…hurting like hell and wondering how am I going to get out of this predicament. I managed to get them both to release before I came to a complete halt and fell off my bike, and then soft-pedaled it in the last ~30 miles for a 5:38 bike.
Temps weren’t too bad going out on the run, but all I had with me was a shortsleeve CoolMax tshirt and standard short running shorts. By the time the sun went down on the 2nd lap I was freezing cold, and spent a good deal of the time trying to keep my “boys” from going numb. The earlier cramp in my right leg severely hurt my running, and I was having continual cramps in both legs from moving so awkward. I limped across at 5:06 for a total of 12:23.

The only worse run I’d ever done was my first half at the GCT…2:40 for a half after a 12 minute T2. It was so hot I couldn’t even run…sort of like alternating shuffling and walking.

12

It’s the style. Very William Faulkner stream of conscioiusness as in “The Sound and The Fury.” I freakin’ hated that book.

13

I’m keeping this story in mind for when I do IMFL in 3 months. Thanks for having such a crappy race and reminding me to be prepared for anything this year.

14

Yeah I know carry a spare baggie of nutrition in my Bento box, and always make sure I bring rainy/cold weather gear to every race. I actually went out and bought cold weather running gear after that race…I hadn’t been out running below 50F in probably 10 years!!!

15

I guess its all what you are used to, I had a great IMFL04, and ran in shorts and a singlet. But then it was way warmer than back home

16

IMAZ 2006 was supposed to be my final IM. With a son about to turn two and a baby due in early October it is time to be more of a family man for a while.

I should pre-face by saying that it is generally agreed that I am one of the unluckiest bastards around, if something is going to happen to somebody (anybody) it will inevitably be me…from lost transition bags, wetsuits, damaged bikes in transit I have heard many times “you’re the only one that’s happened to” or, “Wow, never seen one of those break before”, “We can’t understand why we lost your bag”…it goes on and on…

After an operation on my taint and a couple of cracked ribs in separate incidents in a less than ideal lead-up where I consistently questioned my ability to be ready I left Sydney fit, relaxed and strong looking forward to the race.

Things started to go wrong about 3 hours out of LA when my infant son (more from him later) started vomitting on the plane. He threw up a half a dozen times through the plane and LAX (but it did earn a wheelchair ride for my pregnant wife with son in lap through immigration etc).

At the transfer desk for our connecting flight to Phoenix my bike waiver was ignored and we were slugged excess baggage for my bike (I didn’t care at this point…24+ hours since we left home with a puking one year old in tow looking worse by the minute).

The TSA official couldn’t get my bike case through the X-ray machine so he opened it, proceeded to take everything out before throwing it all back in and complaining that the case won’t close. He won’t let me re-pack it, won’t bring it to where I can see it and is being decidedly unhelpful. He finally somehow manages to get everything in and slams the lid closed…I’m sure my bike is damaged but will just have to wait until we arrive.

Due to the quick run through immigration/customs we now have a two hour wait at the departure lounge, son spews another couple of times for good measure. When it’s time to board the plane the cabin crew tell us we won’t be allowed onto the plane with a sick child…guess who don’t want to clean up the spew? After much talk we’re allowed on until take off…if he spews again, we’re off and have to wait for anoher flight…he spews as soon as we get to our setas, we’re trying to hide it and hoping nobody saw, hiding his face against our shirts (which stink by now even after an airport toilets change of clothes).

We arrive in Phoenix and pick up my flight case which is now held together with approx. 50 pieces of TSA sticky tape, the lock plates and hinges are smashed and the case is barely holding together. The airline are helpful but tell me that it is a TSA issue and give me their toll-free help line no. (it is now 9:30 at night, we left home 28 hours ago, my son is vomitting again and I’m tired and hungry having not slept a wink)…I open the case anyway and do a cursory check of the bike at the airport but can’t tell a thing so we head to our base for the week (luckily staying with friends who live in Gilbert).

Next morning I put the bike together…a couple of nasty scratches and a broken headset (how did they do that?) the fork is in and lucky the course is smooth…wouldn’t like to be doing the old IMOZ course on this front end. TSA paperwork is a nightmare and we’re not in the country long enough to go throught the process of challenging the waiver that was sitting in my case absolving them of any liability or to get repair quotes form different places for possible (impossible) repair of the case and besides, I’m trying to focus on the race and my preparation.

I put it all behind me and work my way through my final week of taper…all is going well, I’ve travelled well (for a change) and being away from the village is keeping me very relaxed, my HR’s are good, I’m running,riding and swimming well and looking forward to the day.

Friday morning and I finish my final light brick and head to the park with my son (idiot I know) and whilst helping him down off some equipment slip sideways down some stairs and damage the ligaments in my foot…I’m sure it’s broken. X-rays show otherwise but it’s a nasty sprain and I can hardly walk…the doctor advises against but I’ve come a long way and am really keen. I have pain killers and anti-inflammatories and am psyching myself up to do something really stupid

I checked my gear in on Saturday and went home to pray for a miracle of some kind…

It never arrived.

I woke at 4:00am race morning and shoehorned my feet into a pair of running shoes and tried to hobble up and down the street.With next to no movement through the foot riding was also going to be out of the question so I had to withdraw on race morning before the start…my first DNS. To say that I was not a happy spectator on the day would be an understatment.

I won’t go into the dramas involved with getting my bike home again, suffice it to say that it was drama after drama and a 5 day estimated eta turned into 5 weeks and $600usd plus the cost of the new case (another $600)…oops, that put a hole in the budget for the remainder of our trip but we had fun anyway and a week later I was able to walk and enjoy the sights on the rest of our trip…I wouldn’t have been able to do that if I’d tried to start.

Hopefully this story has a happy ending with my return to Arizona next year…what else could possibly go wrong?

17

which some huge female nurse lifted me like I was a little bitch , onto the table
I just spit pepsi all over my keyboard!

Sorry bout your keyboard !

Felt like Ben Stiller on the back of the motorbike ( Along Came Polly - 2004) when he was cheauferred to the airport by the French scuba diving instructor who had just nailed his wife , on his honeymoon :slight_smile: