Tag Archives: Running

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.”

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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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Road to recovery

According to people who know stuff, training plus recovery equals performance.

Those people might be pro triathletes or whatever, but in my stubbornness I thought I could do without one half of that equation.

For me, recovery after a race was a day of no exercise. Now that standard distance triathlons, trail races and half marathons are a regular feature of my calendar – in no great time I might add, I just do them for fun – the idea of recovery seemed even less relevant.

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Contrary to my earlier ignorance, post-race eating is good.

Eating x amount of protein y minutes after a race seemed not only overly complicated, but counterproductive if I wasn’t hungry. Why have rehydration fluid when I could have a nice pot of soul-soothing (and unfortunately, diuretic) tea?

Foam rollers and stretches? Nope. Busy. Things to do, people to see.

Ice baths, compression gear, protein-shakes, a bit over the top isn’t it?

And the truth is, I kinda like feeling a bit broken the next day. Much like a finisher’s medal, sore muscles are a reminder of what I achieved the day before.

But I’ve done a complete 180, and it’s all because my coach is mean.

OK no, it’s all because I’m training for my first Ironman and I’m constantly training on tired muscles. When I have a half marathon or a triathlon lined up for a Sunday morning, my coach thinks: “Great! Do that! And on the Saturday before, I want you to smash yourself on the bike.” Awesome. Thanks coach.

And so when I finish that hard cycle, I’m now mindful that what I do in the next 18 hours is going to determine whether I enjoy or endure Sunday’s race.

So what is it the pros are doing exactly?

According to a Runner’s World article, training is all about straining our bodies to go longer or faster. We’re depleting our fuel sources and causing microscopic tears in our muscle tissue. Our body goes into a period of adaption where our stores are opened for maximum refuelling and our veins deliver white blood cells to repair the micro tears. Apparently, there’s a two-hour window after your race when this is occurring. If you wait until you’ve driven home, showered and called your mum, you may have missed your opportunity.

The article goes on to say: “It’s not in our workouts that we become better athletes, but in the time between them. Neglecting to take sufficient rest or to answer our depleted bodies’ needs not only limits our improvements, but can start a spiral of a very different sort.”

Noted. In order to go faster tomorrow, I need to stop today.

Rest is the easy part of recovery. This is time spent sleeping and not moving. Have a nap, resist the urge to babysit your beautiful niece. Read the paper instead.

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Compression gear may just change your life.

Recovery is harder to implement: hydration, compression, nutrition, trigger-point release, heat, ice and even stress management.

There’s a tonne of science out there on optimising recovery. American coach, sports nutritionist and Ironman triathlete Ben Greenfield starts his Ironman recovery before his race even begins. And even he admits, it’s pretty complex (topical magnesium, amino acids, cold showers, etc).

For us non-competitive, average Jo types, I say do what you can. Ignoring recovery altogether is foolhardy. You’re only hurting yourself. Rehydrate, eat some good food, stretch, chill out.

Oh, and FYI, compression gear feels heavenly. After a hard workout, it’s more soul-soothing than tea. I promise.

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Lost in Paradise

A couple of weeks ago during a local Xterra trail race, a runner went running and didn’t come back.

The Police and Search and Rescue were called, and 26 hours after the race began, she was found. Cold, hungry and happy to be alive.

I must have been a horrific wait for her family and friends, not to mention the rescue teams, police, volunteers and race organisers.

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Trail markings for the Orongorongo Xterra race.

The race was part of my local Xterra trail series. The series has a great community vibe, and offers fun Sunday runs through some gnarly forest trails. It’s paradise.

Regular Xterra runners were all over social media while the runner was missing. There was overwhelming concern for the woman, but discussion occasionally turned more generally to the risks and safety measures of these races.

At the start of every single Xterra race, at every single Xterra event, race organiser Tomo gives a speech:

“We respect some of you are pretty fit and can knock these runs out no problem. However, if you roll an ankle or have a fall and need to sit on the side of the track for a while, you will need to keep warm. Have no fear our marshals will be looking after you, but given the nature of these events, it may be some time before we get you back to home base.”

He reminds us for safety’s sake we should have a long-sleeved thermal or waterproof jacket, some water, food and a basic first aid kit. Survival blankets are available for a few dollars at the registration desk.

Lost in Paradise

The most basic kit won’t kill your finishing time.

About 30 per cent of the runners are like my sister who automatically packs a bag with gels, warm clothing, cellphone, water, and probably a map.

Then there are runners like me who take the least amount of gear possible (emergency gel, long-sleeved top) or worse, runners with no gear and wearing only a singlet and shorts. It’s faster you see, and saves the hassle.

Big sister: “You’re relying on your ability to run and not thinking about what would happen if something went wrong that’s outside of your control.

“It’s New Zealand bush and New Zealand has really changeable weather. That’s why so many tourists who go tramping get into trouble, because they underestimate the conditions. It’s the same thing”

Amen sister.

It would be so easy for any Xterra runner to twist an ankle or take a wrong turn and then be unable to summon for help. It doesn’t matter how good you are at running, by not carrying gear, you’re putting the onus on race organisers to get you out of trouble, which, when you think about it, is kinda irresponsible.

The Xterra community has a lot of respect for organisers Tomo and Eve. The pair put on a fantastic (and safe) series. Had the recent ordeal ended tragically, it would have had major repercussions for them too.

As Tomo said, they’ve had over 12,000 people run in the bush since their first Wellington event in 2008, “I fully expected something like this would happen one day”, he said, which is why they have a very comprehensive management plan for missing runners.

Regardless, it should be up to the individual runner to ensure they get home safely. Carry a whistle, take some food, wear some warm clothing. It may cost you seconds on your finishing time, but it could buy you hours if you’re lost in the bush.

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Running in paradise.

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75 Thoughts Every Runner Has

From the I-wish-I-wrote-this files, here’s one Buzzfeeder’s “75 Thoughts Every Runner Has While Out For A Run”. So funny, so true. It also made me reflect on a runner’s stream-of-consciousness and ask important questions like: what the heck is CrossFit anyway?

1. What a beautiful day for a run!
2. This sucks.
3. Well, five miles is only two and half miles each way, which is basically two miles each way, so I’m really only running four miles. That’s not too far.

1. What a beautiful day for a run!

1. What a beautiful day for a run

4. It’s starting to feel far.
5. How long have I been running? A year?
6. SIX MINUTES?!
7. I can barely remember what my life was like before I started this run.
8. OK, concentrate. There are still four-plus miles to go.
9. But who counts the first and last mile? This is pretty much an easy three miler.
10. Oh, shit! A fellow jogger!
11. Should I wave?
12. I’m totally gonna wave.
13. OOOK, they didn’t wave back. Never doing that again.
14. Just keep running, no one saw. Except that old guy who may or may not be averting his eyes.
15. Man, I think I’m hitting that “second wind” thing my gym coach was talking about.
16. Wait, never mind. I’ve been running down a decline.
17. If I leap to avoid dog shit, does that make me a CrossFit athlete?
18. What the heck is CrossFit anyway?

27. I’m running five miles so I should probably eat five slices of pizza.

27. I’m running five miles so I should probably eat five slices of pizza.

19. Mental reminder: Google CrossFit when I get home.
20. If I ever get home.
21. If I had a heart attack right now, I wonder who would find my body.
22. OMG, I hope I never find a dead body. Joggers always find dead bodies.
23. Bodies. Body. Bod-ay. Runnin’ all day, no one can catch … may.
24. OK, I must be halfway done by now.
25. What?! Only two miles in?
26. Alright, stay focused. What am I going to eat when I get home?
27. I’m running five miles so I should probably eat five slices of pizza.
28. Or I could buy one pizza and ask them to cut it into five slices.
29. I should probably get a side salad too.
30. …
31. Fuck the salad actually.
32. Man, what are these people doing in front of me? Walking?!
33. Is this a contest to see who’s the worst at walking? Because you are both champions in my heart.
34. Maybe if I pound my feet on the ground they’ll hear me coming and let me pass.
35. Oh, God. They didn’t turn around and now I’m right behind them. They’re going to think they’re getting mugged by the world’s sweatiest criminal.
36. You know what? Now seems like a good time to run in the street.
37. * Jumps off curb * Parkour!
38. Hi hi hi please don’t hit me with your car.
39. Pedestrian pedestrianizing over here, let me cross.
40. Thank you, Mr. Blue Honda. I’m trying to smile at you but it probably looks like I’m having a stroke.
41. Actually, I wonder what I look like right now.
42. * Checks out reflection in shop window * Yeesh.

37. * Jumps off curb * Parkour!

37. * Jumps off curb * Parkour!

43. Is that what I look like when I run? What am I, a newborn deer with a drinking problem

44. Whatever, I must be almost done by now.
45. Heck yes. Three miles down, two to go. It’s all downhill from here.
46. Except for that very real uphill in front of me. God damnit.
47. Wait, is that… Is that…
48. A DOG!
49. Hi dog! You are so cute. You are now my mascot. I will finish this run for you, pup.
50. And — hello — what do we have here? Your human is pretty cute too.
51. Hope you like drunk fawns, Cute Human.
52. Watch my bambi ass prance up this hill.
53. Holy shit, prancing is exhausting. I am exhausted.
54. Honestly, I don’t even like running.
55. Why do I even run?
56. Why does anyone even run?

43. Is that what I look like when I run? What am I, a newborn deer with a drinking problem?

43. Is that what I look like when I run? What am I, a newborn deer with a drinking problem?

57. Why are we even alive?
58. OK, let’s not go down that road.
59. Focus. Focus on that sweet, delicious ‘za waiting at the finish line, calling your name with its cheesy breath.
60. Wait, less than one mile to go? I am KILLING this run.
61. I AM THE SWIFTEST GOD OF ALL TWO-LEGGED CREATURES.
62. YES, including ostriches.
63. Honestly, I should sign up for a marathon.
64. What is it, like 30 miles?
65. That’s just 15 miles each way, which is practically 10, and 10 is twice five, and I can run five miles EASY.
66. That’s it, I’m doing it. Thirty miles.
67. Thirty-mile marathon…30-mile marathon…30 Rock marathon.
68. On second thought, I’ll probably just binge-watch every episode of 30 Rock. That takes a lot of dedication and I will be winded from laughing so hard.
69. But I could probably do a marathon IF I wanted.
70. OK, almost home. Should I shower first and order pizza or order pizza and shower before it shows up?
71. Yep, definitely ordering first. I earned that shit.
72. Oh, no. Oh god no. Another runner. Should I wave?
73. No, be strong! Do not get burned again.
74. OMG, SHE waved first! Hello! Yes! We are both runners! Look at us run!
75. I guess running’s not so bad.

View original post on Buzzfeed at 75 Thoughts Every Runner Has While Out For A Run

 

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