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Meet Dave. He’s an UltraMan

“You have a few moments when your alarm goes off at 5.30am and it’s pitch black outside, you put your feet on the carpet and think ‘why am I doing this?’”

Dave Oliver then visualises standing on the start line of UltraMan Australia, the three-day endurance race, which for most mornings last summer, was the reasonDave Oliver he got up before sunrise to run, bike or swim. That mental image would push the 35-year-old to his feet. He would ride his bike to the pool, swims 200 lengths and sometime around 8.30am he would sit down at his office desk to begin his working day.

After work, Dave would run a half marathon. He would return to his Mount Victoria home at 7.30pm, leaving only enough time to say a tired hello to his flatmate, cook dinner and prepare tomorrow’s training gear and sleep.

Dave isn’t your average triathlete. In fact, he only fell into the sport four years ago after making a pact with a friend to knock off an IronMan triathlon from the bucket list.

“It was 2008 and I was working in Rotorua as a helicopter pilot at the time. A friend and I went to Taupo for a night out and it happened to be IronMan weekend. We were eating kebabs on the sideline, watching what looked like normal people finish in 16-plus hours. We wondered whether two guys who could barely swim and who had never done a triathlon, could finish an IronMan.”

Dave wasn’t foreign to sport. He played rugby in his twenties, enjoyed mountain biking and had completed a marathon “in no spectacular time”. After working as a helicopter pilot, particularly in hot spots like Papua New Guinea, it’s fair to assume he also isn’t afraid of high pressure situations.

He ignored the pact until 2012 when he entered his first triathlon in the local series at Scorching Bay.

Since then, triathlon has overtaken Dave’s life and transformed his understanding of what’s possible.

Time spent watching TV and long sleep-ins – time he retrospectively calls “junk time” – was swapped for running, cycling and swimming.

Dave was training for up to 20 hours a week. Unsurprisingly, his social life took a hit. His mates thought he was mad when after a meal out, Dave would change into his running gear, and in the pouring rain, run the 10km home.

He admits in the early days he didn’t have the balance right, sacrificing time with friends and family to train. Time management, often touted by triathletes as the hidden fourth discipline, was something he learned with time.

“I’ve made a conscience decision not to let my training affect my social life too much. I still manage to prioritise going out for a beer with mates every now and then.”

He’s also adept at stealing training opportunities. For example, a visit with his mum in Palmerston North turns into a training ride to Otaki where they’ll meet for lunch.

The life-training balance was made easier last year when he traded in his month-on, month-off helicopter pilot job for regular hours managing adave oliver 4eronautical publications.

It took just two triathlon seasons before Dave felt ready to take on IronMan New Zealand. In 2014, he completed the 3.8km swim, 180km cycle and 42.2km run in 10 hours 45 minutes.

The first-time IronMan ranked in the top 20 percent of finishers. Dave, it seems, had a talent.

“I did it again the next year. I was faster. But that race destroyed me. I just pushed way too hard, too early. After the race, I was standing there in a world of hurt. I couldn’t think or function. My sister had to take my shoes off.”

Despite the painful race, Dave continued his daily training regime with local triathlon squad Traction Fitness.  It wasn’t really training, he says. It was something he did for fun. And seven months later, he applied for UltraMan Australia on Queensland’s Sunshine Coast.

UltraMan Australia is an endurance race covering 515km in three days, and is open to only 40 competitors. Dave didn’t think too much about it when his application was accepted, choosing to focus more on enjoying training.

About 12 weeks out from UltraMan, things got serious. He’d train up to 24 hours a week. A 7km ocean swim after work was not unusual, nor was a 180km Sunday bike ride.

Training wasn’t without its challenges. There was constant laundry, dietary restrictions, energy-sapping headwinds, strained muscles, punctures, choppy seas with the occasional jellyfish and those early morning wake up calls.

But Dave is remarkably philosophical about it all. “It’s nothing you can’t work around,” he says. Besides, it’s good practice for race day when you never know what obstacles you’ll face.

What’s striking about Dave is not his physical accomplishments, but his attitude towards them. He speaks ambivalently about his punishing training regime. And when probed about his toughest sessions, he reframes the experience in a way that is constructive.

He recalls this year’s Marlborough Grape Ride, remembered by cyclists mostly for its miserable conditions:

“I did the 2-lap, 200km course, plus I was staying in Picton so had to cycle 40km to the start. It was 4.10am, raining and the first thing I’m faced with is the hill leading out of Picton.”

He shrugs.

“But you need some terrible training experiences. I would draw on what sounds like a negative thing and turn it into a positive because I know it’s going to be fuelling my motivation in UltraMan. It’s like a pocket of motivation.”

He knew he’d need all the motivation he could get for UltraMan.

Day one was a 10km swim, the equivalent of swimming from Freyberg Beach to Petone Foreshore, followed by a 140km cycle, the distance between Wellington and Palmerston North. Day two was 281.1km on the bike and day three equalled back-to-back marathons, covering 84.3km.

“I never thought UltraMan was a crazy thing to do. I never thought about the distances. I just treated the long cycle like a nice social ride. It was much more of
a mental game than a physical one.”

Dave finished sixth with an overall time of 24 hours, 48 minutes.

“I was stoked, exhausted and a little bit emotional. It was a surreal moment. It had been my only focus in the world and that’s it. It was done.”

Dave Oliver 3

Photo: Dayle Jordan

Dave swears he enjoyed some quality Netflix time after the race, and tucked into a burger or two. But he hasn’t strayed too far from Traction Fitness and his daily training sessions.

This month, just four months after UltraMan, he will compete in IronMan Wales.

“I’m really looking forward to an awesome day out at IronMan Wales. Apparently it’s an amazing course and I’ll have the Welsh side of the family there cheering me on.

Dave bats away the suggestion that what he’s done is extraordinary arguing “it’s all relative to where you’ve come from and what you believe in”. He maintains he’s a “typical Wellingtonian” who drinks too much coffee at The Hangar and has a serious weak spot for Pandoro’s croissants.

“I don’t see my lifestyle as any different to someone else with a time-consuming hobby. At the end of the day, most of my weekends are spent with mates having a good time. It’s just that we’re usually swimming, biking or running.”

This article was originally published in Capital magazine, Spring 2016

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We are IronMan

They say triathlon is a selfish sport. Yet I’d never have thought during those months of training, those months of selfishly putting my needs before everything else, that the highlight of my first IronMan would be everybody else.

Months out from the big day, six of my loved ones said they wanted to be there. They wanted to take a day off work, drive a 10-hour round trip, and give up their entire weekend to stand on the roadside and cheer me on.

I was stoked and very humbled.image (31)

Then in the days leading up to the race, I received phone calls, texts and Facebook messages from friends wishing me luck. My sister had matching supporters’ t-shirts made up and my unofficial mentors baked IM-shaped cakes and presented two ginormous ‘Go Jo’ posters.

My parents took nearly a week off, first driving me to Tāupo, ensuring the fridge was stocked with the right food, buying me a pre-race massage, reading the 36-page athletes’ guide and studying course maps. More heroically, they put up with my pre-race tetchiness without a single complaint.

I was overwhelmed by the support, and I thought, there’s no way I cannot finish this race. People would know, people would be disappointed. I couldn’t let my friends and family down after everything they had done for me.

On the day, my support crew was joined by another couple of triathlon friends and my flatmate. My coach, who on the morning of my race ran a sub-3 hour marathon in New Plymouth, drove 277 kms to Tāupo to join the others by lunchtime.

When I thought I had maybe 10 supporters on the day, I actually had 17 people cheering for me. My swim coach, my coach’s wife who I’d met the day before, a girl I knew from high school, a friend’s friend who I’d met once four months earlier – all of them yelled a “Go Jo!” “You’re doing awesome!”, which boosted my spirits and made me grin like an idiot.

There were high fives, chalked messages on the road, photos at every turn, and a hell of a lot of yahooing.

One of the hardest parts of the race was the last 20km of the 180km bike ride. The head wind and gradual climb chipped away at my motivation. I thought of my supporters
then. 20km until I get some love! … only 19km until I get some love … 18km …

And they were still there at every lap of my 42.2km run, long after th12674331_461896340679898_664348265_ne sun had gone down and the temperature had dropped. Surely they’re over this? But no, they were still there. Still waving and yelling.

And when I finished, there was still more – gifts from friends (absent and present), IronMan gear from parents, my sister and my incredible boyfriend. Didn’t they get it? I should be buying them presents.

When I signed up to IronMan I considered it an individual pursuit of a purely selfish goal. But my supporters made it so much more. They made my IronMan a day-long celebration where I spent most of that swim-bike-run, grinning like an idiot.

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Just some of the people who made my IronMan one of my most happiest adventures.


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50 thoughts every IronMan-in-training has

  1. I’m hungry
  2. Still hungry
  3. Oops, I didn’t mean to eat all of thatBrownie collage
  4. Yes I can be there … I may be wearing Lycra
  5. I love my bike, I hate my bike, I love my bike
  6. F— you wind!
  7. When I’m a normal person again …
  8. 9.30pm, Friday. Sweet, bedtime.
  9. 6.30am, Saturday. Sweet, sleep in.
  10. “How’s training going for your marathon/biathlon/fun run/sports thing?”
  11. Why am I doing this?
  12. It’s so so far, I just don’t know whether to laugh or cry

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    16. Can’t. Training.

  13. Seriously, WHY AM I DOING THIS?
  14. Everyone else in the world is asleep right now
  15. I’m sorry I haven’t showered
  16. Can’t. Training.
  17. Yes 180km on a bike. No, just one person, in one day
  18. Why? Well, I’ll get a medal. And there’s the free t-shirt …
  19. I’m sorry for what I said when I was tired
  20. Get out of my lane
  21. Get out of bed you lazy thing!
  22. I think I’m actually getting slower
  23. My wetsuit has definitely shrunk

    DSCN0155

    23. My wetsuit has definitely shrunk

  24. Nope, too windy/rainy/hot
  25. I can do this! I’m going to be an IronMan! … [two minutes later] … I’m going to die.
  26. Has anyone else bought endurance sport bars and accidentally eaten them on the couch? Ok, yeah. Me neither
  27. [eyes up nutrition for the bike] … Ha, none of that is actual food
  28. Stop drafting off me!
  29. Swim swim swim SHARK?!!
  30. Swim swim swim SHARK?!! Seriously Jo, you’re in a pool
  31. What do you call a female IronMan?
  32. Even if I’m anaemic?
  33. I’d go much faster if I had a new —- [any tri-related toy]
  34. After this, I’m going to retire. I’m going to lie on the couch for a year. Still wearing the finishers’ t-shirt and stroking my medal.
  35. So the run is just four 10km laps plus a bit more. Easy.
  36. If I have to cycle 150km then that’s just three lots of 50, or one big 100 and one 50km or two lots of 75km, or ….
  37. I want to go home
  38. Ice cream. It’s mostly protein right?

    DSCF4158

    43. Holy smokes my arms are huge!

  39. Weeee! This feels so good. I want to do this all the time!
  40. It’s not a hickey, it’s chaffing from my wetsuit, honest
  41. Kona, eh?
  42. Has my Torpedo 7 package arrived yet?
  43. Holy smokes my arms are huge!
  44. What do you mean you ‘go’ on the bike? … ohhh …. Ewww
  45. [someone asks what the weather’s doing this weekend] “slight northerly winds in the morning, picking up to about 34km/hr by 1pm, about a 50% chance of rain, Sunday’s better …”
  46. Have you read Iron Wars?
  47. Please don’t let that be a puncture
  48. Coffee-coffee-coffee-coffee
  49. Wow, I cycled and ran so far today. [does the maths and realises that was a small portion of the race, cries, laughs, bends over to throw up]
  50. [Nods eagerly throughout the ‘I’m Training for an IronMan’ YouTube clip] See? Those Iron people aren’t so nuts after all.

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Mental warfare

They’ll talk about the day they clocked up seven hours on the bike and then followed it up with a 20km run. They’ll talk about sore muscles, tiredness and their dodgy IT band. But people training for IronMan don’t talk much about mental burnout. Those days when getting out of bed for a 6km run is simply just … too … hard.

IMG_1667As I approach race day, those just-too-hard-days are becoming more frequent. Physically, I doubt my training is suffering as I’m starting to taper anyway. But mentally I’m in a war zone, which is rapidly wearing away the energy stores I have left.

Listen to your body, says the angel at my table. You’re no IronMan, says her devil twin at the other.

You’re tired, you need to rest.

Pull yourself together and get out the door.

And so they argue, back and forth, until finally I give up. I eat two bowls of ice cream (two and a half), and settle in for a night of despondency on the couch. Later, I set my alarm for 5.30am and promise I’ll work hard and eat healthy tomorrow.

Do I feel at peace with my decision?

Not even close.

An article on the IronMan website “6 areas to flex your mental muscle” describes mental burn out as feeling unmotivated, irritable, angry, sad and bored (yes, yes, yes). Another tell tale sign is fantasising about quitting your sport (again, yes). And then the rather unhelpful advice: “The most effective approach is to prevent this from happening.”

Excellent, thanks IronMan.

I take note of some of the suggested strategies to combat mental burnout, largely, taking time off, reconnecting with goals and writing a list of why I love the sport. I’m also going to listen to my endurance sport friends who suggest sleep, prioritising rest over other duties or obligations and positive affirmations.

My plan starts now. I hereby promise to have an early night. I will leave tumblr_nr0lwx5slH1t35af4o1_1280work an hour early tomorrow so I can get to the pool before the lane becomes crowded with the faster, more aggressive after-work set. Instead of dwelling on how long the swim will take (all 130 lengths), I’m going to cruise through it in no great hurry. I’m going to enjoy the sensation of gliding through the water and use the time to remember why I fell in love with triathlon in the first place.

I also vow not to have ice cream for dinner. I’m going to drink more water and take my iron supplements. I’ve booked a sports massage and I have scheduled in a yoga session for the weekend. OK, yes I know the sloth-like pace of yoga makes me antsy, but I’m planning to use this time to mull over all the reasons why I want to finish an IronMan in two weeks’ time.

There are a lot of reasons, I’m sure. And I’ve already got the first one:

It’ll make me a stronger on the inside.

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