Flinging the Fling....

The Fling is a race that I never feel prepared for, the first year I entered in 2011 we had just bought a house and training had fallen by the wayside. It was horrendously painful and I discovered what “cramps” really means when those stricken riders on the side of the trail utter it. Oh yeah, cramps that year from about the 75km mark and I just limped home.

2012 was better, but I’d got the dark and gloomies over winter and had fallen off the training wagon. With just a couple of months I pulled out a substantially better time but still felt I wasn’t at my best.

2013 was going to be the year, I was going to train through winter and hit the Fling at my best. Unfortunately before I could hit the fling an idiot driver hit me and July was all about hospitals and healing. Despite being back on the roadie relatively quickly I really had done very little mountain biking and for some reason, the Fling seems to require mountain bike miles in the legs for me. With just the Half Kowalski and the Scott as my only decent mountain bike rides since the accident things weren’t looking good.

Setting up camp in sunshine got our hopes up

Oh and then there’s this medical degree, the one with the final exam of the whole degree scheduled just three days after the Fling. That one little hurdle standing between me and the title “Dr”, suddenly the whole Fling training plan was well and truly off the rails and I swapped out of elite back down to age group racing.

The lead into the Fling involved a lot of the usual weather watching on BOM, the forecast went from horrendous to horrible to bad to sketchy and finally it looked like the rain would hold off until the day of the race itself.

Indeed we packed in Newcastle in 36-degree heat, making it hard to think about cold weather riding and even set up camp in sunshine. We hoped the Bureau of Meteorology had got things completely wrong but they knew a little more than we’d been hoping and race day dawned grey and cold with a fine misty highland drizzle to accompany the traditional bagpipe wake-up call.

Race morning was definitely fleece pants and down vest weather

Waiting on the start line was cold, I got the shivers listening to race briefing but was briefly distracted by the guy next to me discovering that the rain on his tyres simply meant he could see heaps of lovely air leaks bubbling away. Then finally we were off and the usual shemozzle of self-seeding started to sort itself out.

My legs felt dead, completely dead like riding with concrete muscles – I don’t think I’ve ever felt so bad in a race. I kept hoping I would warm up and come good, but even half an hour in I was still feeling crap. I passed Charlie McCabe early on and wished her well in the 100mile event as the only female entrant, I didn’t envy her as the weather continue to be grey and wet.

After the first river crossing or two I definitely couldn’t feel my feet, and my mood wasn’t improving at all. I had mentally admitted defeat in the race when I changed categories and I was even considering pulling out at the first transition through Wingello. The GUs that had freely flowed into my flask in the Newcastle heat were now refusing to leave the flask at my request and I had drunk next to nothing for the first hour of the race.

At Wingello I swapped to a camelbak and single GU packets, ate some food and pushed on. The legs weren’t improving, but the 29er wheels rolled well on the firetrail and I hooked onto a train. Then we hit singletrack and it was obvious the blokes up the front were roadies – finding out your bars don’t fit between trees at speed was the first sign, and walking the rocks was the next.

A few of us made it past these roadies and in the next section of single track I found myself chatting to Lana Moy’s other half Greg who would keep me company for the next hour or so. Sometime after the next feed station he dropped off and myself and a South African bloke seemed to be keeping similar pace. We got chatting and told similar stories – dead feeling legs, no motivation, suffering.

Having company made things a whole lot better, we fell into a rhythm – I’d let him go first on firetrail descents and I’d soon catch him on ascents when he would then stick on my wheel.

We ticked off the obstables, The Wall, Halfway Hill and a whole lot of hills in-between that I swear multiply every year. The elite men came through around half way hill, Mark Tupalski was just launching an attack and looking strong. Soon we onto the smooth road into Wingello for the second time, my South African mate mentioned pulling the pin and I secretly groaned at the thought of loosing my riding companion.

Luckily he changed his mind and after refuelling we set off again for the last and most brutal stage of the race. The bumpy descent through the paddock to the first single track was not fun as that kind of stuff still hurts my bung arm and wrist but soon I had other things to worry about as my left inner thigh cramped in exactly the same bit of single track as 2011! Refusing to stop I spun that leg easy while putting power through my right and it seemed to ease, but I was dreading that section of "rollercoaster" in reverse with all the little pinch climbs.

Concentrating on smooth pedalling we slogged on as the mist was turning more and more to rain, the temperature averaged about 11 degrees for the whole race and we did spare a thought for the previous year when the sun was baking hot through some of those later sections of firetrail.

Veteran Female Podium

I starting pulling gaps on my South African mate, whose name I still hadn’t learnt and whose number had fallen off and was stuffed down his jersey for safekeeping. I entered the single track ahead of him but knew I’d be walking those pinch climbs after Boundary Rider. Each time I walked those climbs he’d catch me and so we ended up together again grovelling up the hill to a choir sheltering under a marquee. We entered the last section of single track to the perfect harmony of these local voices, by this stage both legs were cramping on sharp or sustained climbs but it was still just my inner thighs so I could mostly ride through it.

Veteran Female Full Fling

By this time we were overtaking half-flingers very regularly, the track was showing signs of the extra traffic and constant drizzle and was pretty slippery over roots and rocks in places. The half-flingers were quick to give track and soon we hit the last dreaded hill, endless grassy switch backs up a paddock.

Spinning smoothly I managed to keep the cramps at bay knew that I was pretty much home, again I lost my South African friend through the last section of singletrack and also let the first Elite female, Peta Mullins come through.

The final 5 or so kilometres are firetrail and road, and they ticked painfully by until I was finally heading down through the last farm towards the finish. Finally the finishing arch appeared and – wet, cold and filthy – I could tick off yet another Fling with inadequate preparation.

Celebrating the end of a long year and long degree

I was on the lookout for my South African buddy but the cold got the better of me and I headed back to camp for some warm clothes before a feed and hanging round for the podium presentation. Despite what felt like a shocking day on the bike, and being 10 minutes slower than the previous year, I had won my age category and had a time that would put me at 4^th overall female.

In the usual way of happy endings, my South African riding companion managed to find me on facebook – thanks Gary for making the day bearable. I’m not sure I would have persevered without the company!

I also passed my exam three days later and have now finally finished five long years of undergraduate medicine and will start work as a doctor next year. The learning is far from over, some would say it’s just beginning, but the idea of a full time wage is pretty exciting and Tim’s already calculating how many bikes I owe him ;-)

  

Wiggle Hunter Valley Classic

I don’t normally enter road events, being more of mountain biker, but the inaugural Wiggle Hunter Valley Classic was close to home and also an ideal challenge coming back from a serious car-inflicted injury in July. We signed up for Epic distance, 175.5km of rolling Hunter Valley scenery and crossed our fingers for good weather.

Marshals getting ready at sunrise

Unfortunately NSW is experiencing a hot and dry spring, after a warm and dry winter and the day was forecast to be mid 30s with strong and blustery north westerly winds meaning that fire danger was extreme. No need for arm warmers then! Instead we donned the sun sleeves as the sun rose bright and orange over Cessnock and the warm wind picked up.

After an easy registration process we rolled out under the start banner as the 3^rd group on the road, and fell into peloton formation until the first left turn a few kms down the road where the marshal wasn’t on the ball and the sign was obscured, which almost caused a disaster as people hit the brakes, overshot the corner and attempted to correct. After this the group dissolved a little and a few rolling hills soon meant that we were pretty much riding just the two of us.

After the first hiccup, the signage and marshalling improved and we were soon in the backstreets of Maitland and crossing the Hunter River for the first time of the day. From here the wind picked up and sudden gusts of cross wind made bike handling tricky. It also tried to turn direction signs around and prompted a stop to inspect a temporary arrow sign that had folded itself in half, that turned out to be a real estate sign but continued to be nervous about missing or wind affected directions.

Rolling into the first feed station we refuelled with some of the HighFive energy food as well as lamingtons and cake. The bottle were refilled but unfortunately there were no toilets available so that necessitated another stop just a few hundred metre up the road behind some bushes.

Just after the feed station the standard length route turned left as we continued straight ahead for Epic. The sign indicating this wasn’t in the best position and we met several weary riders later on who had inadvertently taken a much longer route than they’d signed up for. 

From the first feed station through the Seaham the wind was partly behind us but once we turned towards Clarence Town it was more of a cross-head wind which made the going tough. A section of Paris-Roubaix style potholes signals the entrance to Clarence Town and then the rolling hills continue towards Dungog, the gusty wind making this part of the ride rather unpleasant.

Well before Dungog we turned left towards Wallarobba which was still a cross head-wind but at least from the other side for a while. About this time we started catching riders from earlier wave starts who were obviously struggling with the tough condition (perhaps deep dish carbon rims weren’t the right choice for the day!). Finally we turned left again at Wallarobba and the wind because cross-tail, before long we rolled into feed station 2 which was just before Wallarobba Hill – the biggest climb of the day.

Having done about 82km, less than half the distance, things were starting to look a little grim. The wind was taking its toll and the day was warming up. Quite a few riders were hanging about the feedstation and didn’t look to be in a big hurry to leave. Once again there were no toilets but a good supply of gels, bars and cake as well as water and energy drink. Unfortunately I was starting to crave salt, with it being over 30 degrees and less than 10% humidity, but there was nothing salty to be had.

Lemonade Icey-Pole at Paterson

Straight out of the feed station there was the climb up Wallarobba, I’d rather do that climb many times than ride into the head wind we had for the day. Coming down the other side was a bit hairy as the wind gusts suddenly appeared as a cross wind half way down – not fun at 60km/hr!

Cross wind gusts continued and we turned left again to head into Paterson, then we had a blissful couple of kilometres with the wind behind us meaning that 38km/hr was an easy spin on the flat. We stopped in the little town of Paterson for an icecream at the local store. We generated a fair bit of interest amongst the tourists passing through who were amazed at the distance we were attempting.

Tim keen to keep going

Tim was keen to keep moving so as soon as the icecream was down it was back on the road. We were hoping to keep the tail wind for another little while but leaving Paterson we turned just enough for it to become a gusty cross wind. Losing concentration for just a split second I found myself blown off the road and into the gravel on the verge… this was going to be long day!

At the 110km mark we were just on the northern outskirts of Maitland again and the route turned right, this meant turning directly into the wind. We stopped in the shade and discussed the merit of continuing or whether I should simply cut the ride short and head home or back to the car. Another rider pulled up and joined in the discussion; he’d missed the route-split 70km earlier and had already ridden further than planned and started cramping. Looking at our route map he pulled the pin and turned towards Maitland. Another rider pulled up and sat down in the shade, he looked broken.

 

Broken!

Deciding to continue we started into the wind, this section of road was open and rolling and the gusty wind was relentless. It’s somewhat demoralising pedalling down hill only to achieve a speed of 20km/hr and we seemed to be averaging about 15km/hr overall. About half an hour into this section I pulled off for a break, there was no shade and no shelter from the wind and I was also running low on water.

No where to shelter but need a break!

Continuing on we came across water deposited by the ride organisers who had obviously realised this section was tough, hot and was taking everyone a long longer than anticipated. We stopped to refill and a race support van pulled up with some tired riders in the back. I asked whether they had room for one more and soon made the decision to jump in the van for the next 12km to feed-station 3 as it was all into the strong headwind.

 

The photo doesn't show the headwind!

Tim continued riding and I told him I’m meet again at the rest station, the air-conditioned van was a welcome rest! We passed so many tired looking bodies and then on one hill we stopped and squeezed another female rider who had been walking her bike, “I simply don’t have another 2kms in me” she said.

 

Horizontal grasses

Pulling up at feed-station 3 was like entering a field hospital triage area. Broken looking riders were lying in whatever shade they could find and organisers were simply shuttling in more in each sag-wagon every 10 minutes or so.

I pulled out my phone to check the weather and the route. It was 32 degrees with humidity at less than 10%, the wind was at around 45km/hr with gusts of 70km/hr and we were riding straight into it. However we only had another 5km into the headwind before the route would turn again and it was likely to be a cross-tail wind for the final 40-odd km to the finish.

I looked up to see a man in full white roadie kit, complete with carbon shoes, slowly walking his bike down the road towards the feed station. Even 20m from his goal he had to stop and lean on his bike, obviously cramping, before limping the final few metres into the shade. I have never seen so many people looking so broken!

Seeking shade at feed station 3

Done and waiting for rescue!

I would have loved something salty at this stage, my black kit had collections of white salt crystals around it, but I had to make do with lollies and luke-warm water as I waited for Tim.

Once he pulled up I told him that it was only another 5km into headwind before it should be a whole lot easier, a few other riders heard this and decided to continue as well, but most just stayed in their shady spots waiting to find out how the organisers would get them back to their cars.

We headed back out and into the wind but I felt a lot better after my break off the bike. Soon enough we made the left hand bend out of the headwind and crossed the Hunter River again for the second time.

Happy to finally have the wind behind us, the climb out of the river valley didn’t seem too bad, and the road continue to have rolling hills all the way to the point where we crossed the main highway at Greta.

Then we doglegged along the roads between vineyards until we finally saw welcome signs proclaiming only 10km to go. Tim was starting to get a few cramps by this stage and we passed several people trying to stretch out cramps on the side of the road. The roadside dams were looking so inviting, I could really have done with a swim at this point as the temperature was now around 34 degrees.

The Hunter Valley is a lot less green than normal this year!

With around 8km to go a marshal car pulled up to ensure we had enough water and food, which we did – we just wanted those last 8km to end.

After what felt like an eternity we starting coming into the outskirts of Cessnock and then finally we were riding back up the road to the start/finish. Rolling under the finish banner was a feeling of utmost relief, and I promptly collapsed in the shade with some vaguely cool water.

It took a while before I had enough energy to do anything, and I just lay there watching people roll across the line looking exhausted. It was definitely one of the hardest days I’ve ever done on the bike, and I was pretty glad it was over … just over eight hours after it started! Had the weather been different I’m sure it would have been a different story, but as it stood it was an epic test. The organisers did a fantastic job of ferrying people around, ensuring everyone had enough water and food, but in the end the conditions were just too tough for most people.

CORC Scott25 (because 24 hours isn't enough!)

The Scott24 at Mt Stromlo is an annual fixture in the mountain biking calendar and I’ve done every Scott since starting racing in 2009. Entries had closed for this years Scott25 (with its extra bonus hour of racing) before I had raced Kowalski, and even after that success I felt there was a different between a 50km race in daylight through pine forest and a 24hour at Stromlo with its rocks.

So I was resigned to not racing, and planned to take my roadie and mountain bike down to do some riding and join the crew. Secretly I was hoping a team would need a replacement, I even checked the rotorburn forums for teams seeking members but I was bit nervous to commit especially to night riding, I had no idea how my arm would hold up.

Tim wasn’t overly keen on me riding; he wasn’t impressed on my superwoman stack in Kowalski when I was supposed to be taking it easy. But at my request he emailed the organisers about changing his 2-man pair in the 7+6hour to a mixed 3, however the reply pointed out that there was no teams of 3category in the 7+6 hour, but we were welcome to go as a team of 4 and race as a 3 or alternatively race as a team of 3 in the 25 hour.

 

Perfect weather for the Scott25

ready to race

Our team mate Keith seemed up to the challenge, but maybe he thought we were joking, he was definitely in no doubt once we’d been to registration and paid our cash to race as a 3-person team for 25 hours. It was only his second 24hour race, the first being the Mont in a team of 5… big step up. He went and bought more lights, I think he was shitting himself.

What had we done, I had been questioning riding – I still wasn’t cleared to ride by the orthopaedic surgeon and here I was doing the Scott in a team of 3!! There’s no where to hide in a 3, you can’t leave your team mates doing pairs but it was too late to back out now.

Dry and dusty on Luge

The 11am start time rolled around pretty quickly and we sent Tim off in the la mans start. Starting out with singles on the figure-of-8 course design meant just over half an hour of riding and an hour off. We soon changed to double laps and all was going smoothly as we transitioned into night. Then the first mechanicals struck, Keith had a flat which wouldn’t seal after only one lap of his double but luckily I was almost ready to head out I slotted into my double while he fixed his tyre.

He transition with me after my double to do a single so we were back in order but was again plagued by flats and came back swearing about a certain brand of tyres. In the end he purchased new tyres and got his bike back together but in the heat of things he hadn’t eaten and it was getting late. We swapped the lap order around to give him more time off the bike, the last thing we needed was a rider going hunger flat.

Despite my initial worry, my arm was ok although I could definitely feel it on the descent down the red lap (Western Wedgetail, Luge, Skyline etc). The laps were easier than previous races and omitted a lot of the super rocky sections out the back of Stromlo.

Halfway down red lap descent

Tim and I had discussed trying to limit my night laps, we both felt that stacks were likely at night-time and it was better if I rode less during the night. To this end we sent Tim out on a quadruple lap, sandwiched by doubles from Keith giving me a good break off the bike in the witching hours. I finished a double around 1:30am then was back out before dawn for a triple.

Then the mechanical demon struck again as Tim had three flats in one lap, waiting back at camp I was glad to see it was just mechanicals as I had started getting worried when he was more than 20 minutes overdue from his lap. Keith slotted in while Tim repaired his flats and after a few more double we reverted to singles as the clock ticked down.

Results-wise we were laps up on our competition, but to get a valid result we needed to roll across the line after 24 hours. In fact Keith rolled in from our last lap with 8 second to spare before the 25 hour cut-off but we’d all had enough. 40 laps in totally evenly split between team members and a convincing category win. Then to top it all off, Keith won the bike at presentations – what a weekend! 

 

Kowalski Classic

I won an entry to the Kowalski Classic 90km for having the fastest female night lap at the Mont24, I was stoked as it was an event I wanted to do anyway… then everything changed in July when I got hit by the car and we swapped the entry over to Tim instead.

For several weeks before the Kowalski I had been putting solid hours in on the roadie. The arm was just about ok road riding, except when there was a lot of surface bumps and vibration when I could definitely feel it. While I felt unsafe on the road, the impact of mountain biking on the arm wasn’t good so it was road or trainer… and trainer sucks!

Exactly a week before Kowalski I decided to test my arm on the mountain bike once more, having not touched it for weeks. We did a lap of Glenrock, less than an hour of riding but it seemed ok. It wasn’t 100% and I was definitely aware of it but it didn’t get worse over the ride and the pain wasn’t bad or unbearable. So I emailed the Kowalski organisers pleading for late entry into the 50km event, I got an almost immediate reply and within an hour I was entered.

Then Canberra got rain, I mean real rain, we haven’t had any up here for a while but they got 70mm in less than 48 hours. I started to really wonder if I’d done the right thing, after all my arm was ok for a gentle 50 minutes on dry and groomed home trails but for 50km in mud….

Word on the street said the trails weren’t too bad, and we registered at Kowen Forest on the Saturday afternoon with time for a quick spin round part of the course. What we rode was dry but we both felt slow, and failed to find flow on the trails. This was going to be a tough race.

The morning of race dawned with perfect conditions, cold enough to make us Novocastrians pretty darn chilly but no rain or fog or frost. Tim headed out in the 90km wave starts and I had the new experience of waiting around for the much more social start time of the 50km race.

Under strict instructions to take it easy I put myself towards the back of the large first wave start, I knew we headed into Kowalski Sideshow early on and I didn’t want to be holding up the field if my arm was sore. Before the singletrack however was a decent firetrail climb, which sorted a few people out, it was still conga line into Kowalski Sideshow though and I soon found myself stuck behind a cautious descender.

Overtaking at the first opportunity I started to find a rhythm in the swopping flowing pine forest that is Kowen, and slowly but surely I was passing people a whole lot more than I was being passed. I started pegging back some other girls, knowing that track position was true race position as we’d all started in the same wave, I recognised Flow Mag’s Kath Bicknell as I overtook her but most of the other girls were unfamiliar.

As we crossed over into Sparrow Hill it became evident that the race wasn’t going to be mud free, the tacky ground seemed to suck momentum away from your wheels and it seemed like extra effort was required to keep the wheels rolling.

Crossing back into Kowen we hit our first real mud, and a while lot of fairly new cut track which didn’t have the same flow as the Kowen we know. About this time I caught another girl and when I passed her told me that I had just moved into 2^nd overall female. She stuck on my wheel and we bumped and ground our way through some fairly unforgiving single track, including new switch back climbs up to the highest point in Kowen. She seemed happy on my wheel so I took the opportunity to back off the pace a touch both to recover and to avoid potential crashes which would have been easy to come by in that section of track.

We introduced ourselves and it turns out she was 3^rd placed female in Capital Punishment when I had flatted, meaning we were probably very evenly matched in speed. In fact she’d won her entry as fastest female day lap at the Mont, while I had fastest night lap – pity the Kowalski was a daylight race!

Coming into the feed station I knew I had to drop her off my wheel in the singletrack as I felt she was strong enough to out sprint me on the firetrail if we came to the finish together. I was too engrossed in racing to notice that the feed station had espresso coffee and egg and bacon rolls – how awesome!

Putting the power down through the next section I could feel my arm, as log rollovers were a major feature. But the whole “taking it easy” directive had been lost in the red mist as I had a good gap now on the girl behind.

Coming into tracks familiar from the Mont24 I kept the pace high, but riding familiar tracks in reverse is tricky and my front wheel and I had a falling out on a loose corner. Superwoman flew over the bars and landed without major injury to the bionic arm – thank goodness. Back on the bike and a hasty look behind, she hadn’t caught me despite the spill.

East Kowen was a feature of the Mont this year but the Kowalski route found a few extra hills, in particular a firetrail grind up the next feedstation where I could catch glimpses of the chasing girl behind. Then a loose descent where a near-miss made me slow things down a little before we were back on familiar trails in a familiar direction.

The legs were well and truly threatening to cramp now but it was so close to home, this whole 50km racing thing was a new experience – I was going a whole lot harder knowing it more like a long XCO race than a the marathons I’m used to.

Finally I hit the final fire trail and looking back knew I had a clear run home, I crossed the finish line as second overall female just two minutes off first - but first in my category. I had also put a minute and a half into the girl behind. I that point I was pretty happy that I wasn’t heading out on loop two as the 90km riders were doing, I’d passed a lot of 90km riders despite starting a good 45 minutes behind them – it was going to be a long day out for some people.

Most 100km races have fair portion of fire trail or road, the Kowalski has almost none, which makes it a tough race. I’ll be back next year for sure, maybe I’ll even stop for a bacon and egg roll!

Just a regular Saturday... until someone didn't look

It was just a regular Saturday road ride, mid-winter chill meant we left home around lunch time and planned on a 2.5 hours loop. From our place we headed out down the Fernleigh track before skirting round the edge of Lake Macquarie and climbing over the Rhonda Rd hill to Barnsley and West Wallsend.

Coming up to the George Booth roundabout we discussed the route and opted for heading home through Minmi rather than the Link Rd purely because the Link Rd’s shoulder disappears at each roundabout forcing you out into 90km/hr traffic each time.

After a steep descent into Minmi, we turned right onto Minmi Rd and headed towards Jesmond/Wallsend. The rolling hills are hard work but I was feeling good so was a about 10m ahead of time coming down the last descent before the rise to the roundabout where the turn is to the tip. There’s a left turn lane at this point and I remember moving right to ensure I conveyed the message I was continuing straight, I also remember registering a green oncoming car coming up the right turn lane. After this it becomes I little blurry, I remember realising they weren’t stopping and the feeling of disbelief. I remember yelling a certain expletive at the top of my voice, and I remember braking and waiting for impact. I remember the sickening feeling of the car hitting my rear wheel, which was flung left – almost like a washout on a mtb corner. I remember the feeling of my face hitting the road, and I remember thinking that about broken collarbones – possible subconsciously aware I’d taken impact through my arm.

The memories become clear again with me in the gutter against a low metal guardrail, the bike was on top of me, and suddenly the rear tube exploded with a definite bang. Tim came into view, and lifted the bike off me. I looked over expecting to see the driver rushing over but there was no-one, the first thing I said was “they didn’t stop!”. The pain hadn’t hit yet, Tim was asking if I was ok and I remember saying “I’m not sure yet” as I managed to get into a sitting position. I looked down and saw that I was naturally supporting my left arm with my right and my left arm had two obvious areas of deformity – most definitely a broken arm.

Some one came running over asking if we were alright, at first we thought it was the driver but soon established it was someone who lived on the corner and had been working on his roof when he heard the accident – his wife was on their home phone to emergency services and he relayed the situation to her.

Not used to being the one in the bed!

The fifteen minutes it took the wonderful Boolaroo Ambos to arrive were some of the longest in my life. The pain had hit and the broken arm had the shakes, we organised to leave our bikes with the couple who’d called the ambulance so Tim could come with me in the ambulance. That siren was one of the best sounds I’ve ever heard, and the lovely Erin from soon had a cardboard support under my broken arm, fentanyl up my nose and morphine through a drip in the good arm. With pain relief on board I was able to move onto the ambulance stretcher and loaded into the car. By this stage the crew knew I was both a nurse and final year medical student so when they weren’t overly surprised when I joined in discussions about what classification I was going to be on their system, I agreed that with the speeds involved (easily 30km/hr for me and that or more for the car) I was a trauma call – a system which pre-warns the hospital that a patient is coming in with potentially multiple and/or life-threatening injuries. While it seemed only to be my arm, pain from one major injury can distract or mask others.

So there I was flat on my back, c-spine collar on and enroute to John Hunter Hospital – my place of work and study. As much as I have always been mortified at the of being a patient where I work, now that the shit had really hit the fan I was oddly comforted by the familiar surroundings, processes and people – even when they were cutting my clothes off and log-rolling me to survey me for other injuries.

Unfortunately Saturday afternoon was hectic in ED and while I was wheeled straight in I had to wait several hours for xrays, still flat on my back with a collar on – only able to see a very small portion of the ceiling. I’d sent Tim home to have a shower and get dressed, and bring back in some stuff for me so when I started feeling sick there was no-one around.

I buzzed the nurse as the nausea built up but no-one came, just as I was wondering how I would roll myself over to vomit the porter came to get me for xray and the nausea settled a touch. I was wheeled into xray and the radiographer asked my name only to be answered with “I’m going to vomit”. With the bed still only half in the room I had 5 people log-rolling me (to protect my spine in case of spinal injury) so I could vomit in a cup over the side of the bed.

Then I was rolled again and slid over to the x-ray table… it was odd being on the other side having rolled so many patients over the years. The xrays started off ok as they did my spine and chest to rule out other injuries, then they did my arm and having them move it made me cry with pain. The lovely ED doctor gave me more IV fentanyl and in doing so whacked his head super hard on the xray machine, I did offer to share the fentanyl with him but he assured me he was ok.

Back out into bed 10 and the nausea hit again, luckily they had cleared my spine of injury so with my collar off and now sitting up I proceeded to dry retch for the next couple of hours despite all the antiemetic medications they gave me. The orthopaedic registrar came to see me and explained I was going to need surgery because I had a fracture of my distal radius with dislocation of the distal radioulnar joint – a combination special enough to have its own name Galeazzi fracture (I’d broken my arm and dislocated part of my wrist joint). He also explained that I was unlikely to get to theatre that evening so they were going to do a reduction and backslab in ED and consent me for theatre in the morning.

The reduction and backslab was an interesting experience, they performed a Biers block which is were they put a tourniquet around my upper arm above the fracture, then injected local anaesthetic into a vein in the hand of the fractured arm. This make the whole arm go numb then two burly orthopods pulled my hand which the ED doctor stabilised my upper arm… Tim got a bit faint at this point as my arm was stretchy and mobile in places it shouldn’t be and I could bones grinding. However it wasn’t painful and soon I had a plaster backslab on which gave me much more pain relief, as everything was kept immobile.

damage to left brake hood - where my hand was

Then it was off to the ward for a night of very little sleep and up to theatre the next morning. In theatre the bolted on a titanium plate to fix the fracture and relocated the wrist, the it was back to the ward for a second night of no sleep (but at least it was an awesome stage of le Tour!) and some IV antibiotics to ward off infection.

And so Monday morning dawned an it was supposed to be day one of my orthopaedic rotation, but instead of being at the 7am x-ray meeting I was an inpatient on the ward and my x-ray were being presented and discussed!

I’m now home and hoping that thing heals super quickly, I feel incredibly lucky that I got hit and ONLY have a broken arm. I also feel quite shaken that someone basically tired to kill me in broad daylight, drove off leaving me in the gutter and is unlikely to ever get caught. I try and make safe decisions cycling, I choose quieter roads or those with a wide shoulder or bike lane, I wear bright colours, I have good lights and night and of course wear a helmet. Unfortunately that’s all I can do, and it wasn’t enough last Saturday.

Thanks to everyone who was or is part of my care, who has sent me messages, flowers, food, balloons and positive thoughts. Thanks to Cheeky who are looking after my roadie to get me back on a trainer ASAP. Please ride safe out there and please spread the word that car drivers just need to look for bikes.

If anyone is wondering, the accident happened at about 2:30pm on 6/07/13 at the corner of Minmi Rd and Warkworth St Maryland. The car involved was bottle green, perhaps a Hyundai excel or similar around 10 years old with a small rear spoiler. I think there was a front passenger as well. I swerved and made it almost passed the car, meaning they hit my with the drivers front corner. Anyone with information can contact the Waratah police 4926 6599

Rocky Trail MTB GP – Round #3 Ourimbah

I always struggle in winter, I tend to hibernate and my training suffers. While Newcastle winters aren’t much to complain about compared to what those Canberrans go through it’s still pretty darn uninspiring at 5am when the alarm goes off for that training ride. As I mourn my lack of training I console myself with chocolate which really doesn’t help the power-to-weight ratio either.

And so, having entered my hibernating cave after the Convict100 I was a little worried that my kit wouldn’t fit and my legs wouldn’t work for this June round of the five-race series. Actually, I had managed to drag myself out of bed for a couple of weeks back on the training wagon prior to Sunday’s race at Ourimbah but with only 3 weeks back on the training wagon and a month of slothfulness prior to that… well it might just be about to hurt!

After anxiously watching the forecast we got up Sunday morning and it was raining in Newcastle. With Ourimbah only an hour away we just had to hope that it was just far enough inland to stay a bit drier, and luckily the weather gods were kind.

Chats on the start line

The trail head was packed and the ground was dry when we showed up, and the rego line was almost down the road. Martin and Julianne run such great events that every man and his dog had showed up… not that I was interested in the men and dogs it was the women who caught my eye. Liz Smith the female Australian 24hour champ, Nienke Oostra my 100km competitor… this was going to be interesting! While the rego people could tell me the Nienke was out to smash up the four-hour field, Liz Smith was indeed going to be challenging me in the 7-hour solo.

With tables set up with bottles and food it was off down the fire road to assemble for an uphill fireroad sprint to sort out the pack. With a good position on the start line I managed to hold a fairly good position into the single track but not good enough to avoid the usual stop-start, track-standing and unclipping bonanza that happens when 300 people are overexcited and racing. Luckily things cleared up a bit by the infamous “drop-off” and taking the A-line (for anyone wondering YouTube can show you the line ) let me overtake a crowd on the B-line (which isn't much easier) and into fairly clear track.

A hill sprint to wake the legs up

The Ourimbah track is my favourite track to race on, it suits my technical skills and I simply love riding it. That’s not to say it doesn’t challenge me – the grazes on my knees can attest to that – but in general it’s a track that I do well on. Coming towards the end of lap one and I looked down to see that I was on track for a sub-30 minute lap! Well I was, until a left turn put us into some rain forested track I’d never ridden before, complete with slippery roots to trip up unwary riders and a few mud holes to avoid this bit of track added several minutes to the track used last year.

As it was I was lapping in just over half an hour, and figured that 12 laps or potentially 13 would be attainable. I had a sneaky goal to be the “virtual” winner of the 4-hour event as well, just to give myself some more competition but my main aim was to hold off Liz in the 7-hour event.

After the first hour I settled into a rhythm and started to tick off the laps, I started lapping girls in the 4-hour event and became quite confused about where they all stood in the standings. I hadn’t seen Nienke or Liz so I assumed they were both behind me but probably not far behind.

Cruising the flowy track!

As the four hour drew to a close I came through transition with a minute and half to go, so had I raced that format I would have just got 8-laps in and feeling pretty strong too at that point.

In the men’s race Mark Tupalski and Ed MacDonald were whizzing round at stupid speeds and as a result lapped me several times during the race. Each time they had a nice chat and Ed even complimented my riding up the rocky section of Jelly Legs climb… personally I am huffing and puffing a bit too much at that point to chat, they make it look so easy!

As the 5-hour mark rolled past I started to really feel the course take its toll. After clearing the rocks in the first 8 laps, I made mistakes and missed my lines up Jelly Legs in laps 9 and 10. I hadn’t had any time checks so I didn’t know how close Liz was but I could feel that I was struggling and her 24-hr background I was tipping that she was still be strong.

The last three laps were a struggle; that small chain ring I’d ordered for Convict100 was finally on my bike and I found myself spinning granny gear on climbs very thankful for the extra easy gears. I found my rhythm at a lower speed and cleaned the line up Jelly Legs twice more, but I was just ticking off minutes and waiting for it to end. My back was killing and all I wanted to do was get off the bike and lie down, I had lapped all the other solo girls except Liz and I knew that now I was probably holding her off rather than pulling away from her.

hurting

Finally on my second last lap I asked timing for a time check, 14 minutes up was the reply and I breathed a sigh of relief. I had calculated that I would come in super close to cut off and having a decent buffer meant I could avoid pushing hard for an extra lap. Plus barring a mechanical I wasn’t going to lose 14 minutes in two laps.

On my last lap I lapped Catherine for second time and she told me cut-off was actually at 6hrs45mins not 7 hours due to daylight – I had somehow missed that part of briefing… so I definitely was only doing 12 laps and this was definitely my last WOOOHOO

Rolling across the line was pretty sweet, the same number of laps as last year in a faster time but also on a longer track – not bad for someone who has to be dragged out of their hibernation cave in the morning!

I was stoked to beat Liz but also pretty aware that had the race been a few hours longer she probably would have caught me. I’m not planning on giving her the chance to prove it but hats off to her and her 24-hour efforts – 7hrs hurts more than enough for me!

7 hour solo winners

Convict 100km – St Albans

The Convict100km (formerly DirtWorks100km) is an iconic 100km event based out of the sleepy town of St Albans and the sandstone escarpments of the Hawksberry river valley.

As with Capital Punishment, I had stepped up a notch and entered the elite division of the event rather than age-category, and yet again it was the start that had me scared. Unlike Capital Punishment, where a self-seeded top 100% start with elites, Convict has a pure elite start, which meant five girls and about 25 men would be heading out 10 minutes before the rest of the field. Now the first 8-10km of the course is fairly flat sealed and well-maintained dirt road so staying in the pack gives a distinct advantage.  That was exactly it – whichever girls could hold the pace of the elite mens peleton would gain an advantage as they were towed to the bottom of the first climb.

Oh yes the first climb…. Infamous! In fact the week before the event I had a panic about the first steep climb, which has a 900m section with an average of 17%! I had only ever ridden the climb on a 26er with 3x9 gearing and online calculators were telling me that a 29er with 2x10 was basically going to have me pushing a much harder gear up the hill. In a panic a begged my mechanic for more gears so they dutifully ordered me another (smaller) front chain ring but it failed to arrive before the race.

Sometimes Strava gives you too much to think about!

So there it was, I was on the start line at the back of elite crapping myself about falling of the back of the bunch, walking the first climb and generally making a fool of myself. In the end only one of the two happened – I got spat out of the back of the bunch but at least it was out of sight of the start line. I also wasn’t the first with Nienke Oostra (Marathon MTB) going backwards through the group just slightly before me. Unfortunately for both of us that meant a long slog alone while the other girls got a fast ride to the bottom of the climb. Neinke was out of sight behind me and the bunch was out of sight in front as I turned onto the farm track toward the first climb.

Reaching the bottom of the climb I was totally alone, I reasoned that at least this meant I wouldn’t be seen to walk the hill if my gearing proved too much and I started the slog up. Having the track to myself proved useful, I could pick and choose my line and even take a few zig zags over water bars where required. My memory of the hill had embellished it, and while it is nasty, steep and hard, I did manage to ride it and crested the top still totally alone but with cheers of encouragement from the photographer stationed at the top.

I knew I was in 4^th place with Nienke still behind me; Jenny Fay (Sell Specialized) would certainly be off in front with Naomi Hansen (Marathon MTB) and Imogen Smith (previously Cannondale MTB, AIS road athlete) somewhere in the mix trying to chase her. My aim was to hold 4^th, I knew from Capital Punishment that Neinke and I were pretty evenly matched, so it wasn’t going to be a clear run home.

Around the first feed station the front runners of the next wave start started coming through, it was great to see some familiar faces and offer and receive encouragement from the likes of fellow Cheeky rider Andrew Lloyd. Still all these boys had gained 10 minutes on me and so there wasn’t much hope of hanging on their tails, I was essentially still riding alone.

After around 30km of smooth-ish firetrail, the Convict100 course takes a sharp right hand turn onto the Old Great North Road. This is where the fun begins with the eroded sandstone providing ledges, steps and channels along with a smattering of loose baby head rocks and patches of sand. Tim had just caught up to me having started 10 minutes behind and I let him pass only to find myself sitting right on his wheel through the rough the stuff. I started to wonder about calling track only to think that he’d gained 10 minutes on me so surely I wasn’t going to be faster than him. After a while he missed his line on a rocky section and spun out his rear wheel forcing an unclip, I scooted passed and let the Lapierre do her thing over the rocky ground.

Elevation profile for Convict shows the two major climbs out of the river valley...

Having raced the course on a 26inch hard tail the passed two years, it was heaven having a 29er dually to bomb through the rocks. I cleaned lines I had struggled with in the past, and was suddenly riding the same speed or even faster than the men around me who had started 10 minutes behind me.

Coming through the 50km feed station I was stoked to see myself on track for a faster time than previous years, and wondered when Tim would catch me again considering the gentle climb out of 10 mile hollow. Sure enough he caught me near the top of the climb but once again the Lapierre allowed me to pass him again once back into the techy stuff before Shepards Gully. Riding hard along through the rocks in the section I was surprised to come across a large group of Asian tourists out for a walk. My initial annoyance with them for being on the track soon disappeared as they jumped to the side and started madly cheering and clapping for me. I broke into a grin as one guy yelled, “go number 5, number 5 go, we are so proud of you number 5!” … I even gave him a high five as I passed and had to grin he reacted like I’d told him he’d won the lottery and I could hear his jubilant laughter and cheering fading back into the distance for several minutes… random but cool.

Arriving at the river crossing, with the new addition on a walking bridge next to the riding bridge, I dumped my Camelbak at the feed station and tackled the infamous ride across the kayak bridge.

Riding the bridge isn't for everyone!

Despite a gut-lurching wobble near the end I made it four out of four and hit the ankle deep sand on the other side. Once on the road I teamed up with another bloke and we pulled turns on the tarmac section, being joined half way along by a few more to make a train.

Then at 72km there’s a right turn and the road goes up… and up…. and up some more. And people around who haven’t done the race before start asking people around them “when does this hill end, how far to the top?”. Tim passed me again not far into the climb but staying with him was never going to be possible so I just kept grinding, pedal stroke after pedal stroke. It was now more than the first climb that I missed having an extra granny gear, with almost 4 hours in the legs there were times I wished I could just spin an easier gear, but I still made the couple of steep pinches and eventually the 85km point appeared with the welcome right hand turn onto the descent track.

One beer at the finish and I was tipsy!

Now I realised that my goal of finishing in less than 5 hours might be achievable, but it was going to be close. I pushed as hard but kept things sensible down the steep descent of Jacks track, then popping out onto the river valley floor I tried to hold a good pace along the undulations to the last creek crossing through a sandy creek bed and shallow water. Once on the other side the 100km course joins the 50km for the last 3-4km into town and suddenly I had a lot of riders around. Unfortunately most were riding slower than me but I did get a few wheels for a while to help maintain speed. Then all of a sudden there are parked cars on the side of the road, and tents, and houses and a sharp left hand turn into the finishing straight and under the arch…. 4 hours, 59 minutes and one second! I had broken five hours; that time alone would have had me on the elite podium the two years previous but unfortunately not this year – I was 7 minutes off the time of 3^rd place Imogen Smith.

Even without a podium I was happy with my race and my time, I would have won my age category by half and hour and I simply didn’t have another 7 minutes in the tank.