Mooloolaba Triathlon 2006

The week leading up to the event for me is filled with doubt and a little fear. Will Cyclone Wati hit around the Sunshine Coast or at least will the effects be felt on the day of the event? Will the wind be too strong to ride in, will the waves be too big for the swim, and will the event go ahead in those circumstances?

The cyclone continues on a path parallel to the coast and so does not have the affect on the weather on the coast that Cyclone Larry had done the week before at Innisfail. However, it does produce high winds and 4 – 5 m seas that do cause problems for the event organizers. They decide to move the swim to the Mooloolaba River thus bringing the outward flow of the river into play and increasing the distance of the run to the transition area for the handover to the cyclists.

I meet Jenny and Ross at the registration tents where they have collected all our gear. We have 3 bags of caps, bibs, numbers, swimming caps and rules plus a number of giveways. We are now seasoned competitors so we take this in with calmness absent from my first effort 12 months before. We then have coffee and watch the Elite Criterium Race around the Esplanade. These guys are good but the eventual winner blitzes the field by 500m, leading from start to finish, his stint with a professional road team in Europe bringing just reward.

Later Saturday afternoon I sit around a backyard BBQ with friends at Bokorina Beach with only the nature strip of native trees between us and the ocean. The wind would blow a dog off a chain so I start to think about a 50km/hr tail wind from Mooloolaba to Coolum pushing me along at record speeds on this flat course. I also think about the pain of riding 20km back into that now head wind where no drafting is allowed in this individual event. The forecast on the news does not ease my doubts.

Sean and I awake at 3.30am Sunday morning with the aid of some young folk returning from nightclubbing then deciding to “party on” in the motel room next door. Cotton balls for the ears retrieved from Sean’s 4WD at least allow us some peace till we get up at 5.00AM for breakfast and the 3km walk to the transition area to have our numbers written on arms and legs and have helmets checked for safety.

The good news is that absolutely clear blue sky and still air greet us and my fears dissipate. However, there is still 3 to 4m dumping surf and the swim will be in the river. Sean and I find Jenny and get our race plan together. It is simple - “Do your best”. A photo shoot with Ross then Jenny heads off to warm up. We wish her good luck and I head back to the bike transition area to warm up and stretch. Sean stays to cheer her on.

The event starts about a half hour late and so I am well and truly warmed and stretched as I watch the first of the individual competitors arrive from their swim of about 15 to 20 minutes – great going. My heart rate is in the nineties because of my nerves though I try to remain calm by slowing my breathing and relaxing. This battle is lost when I notice that the trees are for the first time starting to rustle as the breeze starts to pick up even in the lee of the high rise apartments between the car park transition area and the beach.

Individual competitors are now swarming into the transition area with the first of the top ‘teams’ swimmers. I scan them looking for Jenny. What colour was her swim suit? Is that her now? No, too tall! More and more team swimmers are arriving. Yes!! Here she comes, a little red in the face from her great swim and unfamiliar run. “Over here Jen!” She ducks under the rack in front of mine and starts to remove her race tag from her ankle and it goes on mine. “Good luck Jim!!” rings in my ears as I run with the bike to the exit 50m away.

At last, I am on the bike and turn on my heart rate monitor–speedo so my ride will exclude the accumulated transition times of the team. “Try to remain in control. Pace yourself up the hill. Don’t chase those in front!” I tell myself all this but it goes out the door in the excitement and by the time I reach the turn south onto the Sunshine Motorway my heart rate is 175bpm. I head to the turn-around at 30kmph and the heart rate drops to 160 – better.

I negotiate the tight 180 degree turnaround and then head to Coolum – 18km away. For the first time I think about the wind. “Is this a tail wind?”  I think it is a cross wind coming from my right rear, a ‘sou-easter’, helping a little but not the Coolum express. 35kmph seems hard, I push to 40-42kmph and the heart rate is back over 170. So it is back to 35 and 162 heart rate again.

Now ‘gun’ riders power past, some with the eerie loud hum of the carbon fibre wheels startling me out of the zone I am in as they suddenly materialise seemingly out of nowhere. I pass some slower riders easily but struggle past others. I push the ‘no drafting’ rule to the limit so I can rest a little but the ‘no drafting nazis’ on their motorbikes eye me as they motor past but say nothing. I must be doing it well.

• No drafting rule – each rider has a 7m x 3m road space with the front wheel located at the centre front of the 3m. No other rider is allowed in that space and when passed a rider must observe that space now for the passing rider. All riders must move to the left and no over taking on the inside.

The road is mostly flat with slow rises onto bridges over the Maroochy River and other creeks. The small down hills from the bridges offer a chance to either pick up the pace or stand up and stretch and drop the heart rate. I do both at different times and drink regularly. I am now in a steady groove,  turning the pedals over, heart rate 165, speed 35, – mesmerized. DDDDDDDDDDDDDD!!!!! “What is f---k is that?” Dummy! I have drifted over the white line on the side of the highway but these white lines are the noise making variety and have 2cm concrete dowels every 2cm. They work – I am now wide awake and alert.

“Where is that turn-around at Coolum?” I check the kilometers and it must be soon. A big group of riders comes the other way. “How do they police the no drafting rule in such a big group?” I see cars and people milling across the road up ahead. “Yes !! The half way mark!”  I open a gel pack and suck the vanilla bean energy goo down followed by a heap of water. I have been regularly sipping Endura all the way to ward off cramps I have been getting recently.

As I slow and negotiate the tight 180 turnaround a new sensation hits. “NO! A bloody great head wind!” This seems to be the cry from all around me as we experience the hit to the body and the slowing effect of that cross wind that did not seem to offer much assistance on the way there.

The trend of the Noosa Tri continues and I find I am riding with about 5 or 6 guys and a girl. We alternately pass and are passed, often separating by as much as 50m with different riders going ahead then falling back. The effort to overtake affects us all. The guy in front is doing 30-35kmph and I go as close as I can to get some drafting effect. I pull out and have to go faster than him. I struggle by at 35-40kmph and the heart rate zooms to 175. I pull in and immediately slow down. This repeats K after K.

Next thing we have motor bikes beside us and we hear the warning, “No drafting, pull back or overtake.” In unison we say we are trying but the wind is making that hard. They tell us it doesn’t matter, keep it up and you will get a 3 minute penalty in one of the 3 stops set up for that. So we are more careful but the tendency continues. Again and again the motor bikes race up and down the line warning riders, though I must be more careful than most as I am not warned again.

The tiredness affects us all and we come to a girl that has fallen off a hybrid with flat bars, for no reason other than fatigue. The motor bikes race to her aid and we hear the siren from the ambulance located on the course as it speeds to her side. She will be OK. Fatigue, shock and some abrasions are the extent of the injuries we mobile experts opine as we continue to pedal.

We pass through a stand of trees on both sides of the highway and immediately pick up speed as we ride without any wind for a kilometer. It is gratefully received but soon we are again bashing into the wind that continues to increase in strength as the morning passes. We are past the hour and are coming toward the Maroochydore Industrial Area. People are starting to speed up knowing there is less than 10kms to go.

The Buderim Mooloolaba Rd looms ahead but of course it runs along the ridge that for us is a long, slow gradient to reach. I pass some, but others pass me up this rise that again pushes my heart rate to 175. We grunt and strain and finally we crest the ridge and for some there is anger and disappointment for their effort is rewarded with 3 minutes in the penalty zone for drafting. They are waved over to the side of the road by marshals and are initially confused but the realization of what is happening strikes home. I slide past hoping to avoid that fate and do.

Now we all push pedals up and down with renewed vigor as we race along the undulating ridge to Alexandra Heads. It is once again a race, not survival, and as I lean into the left hand bend toward Maroochydore I am grateful for the skills acquired doing training and criterions. I zip past more prudent riders and then slow for the 180 degree turn around and head back to Mooloolaba. Down from Alexandra Heads at 45, now 50k, the coffee shop section on the Esplanade is ahead and I weave into this area a little unsure of the path through the barricades and careful not to take a turn into a café. The runners are storming up the opposite way on their way out on their 10k run. We are separated by barricades and a grassed area. There are people cheering and waving and I hear a rider behind pushing me to go faster – cheeky girl - but I do.

Finally down off the Esplanade into Brisbane Rd and then right into First Ave. Runners are coming out of transition and marshals wave us down pointing to the line to dismount. Unclip, off the bike and turn off the speedo. Jelly legs now push to run with the bike to the rack where I am to hand over to Sean. Down this lane, yes this it, there’s the tree, where is Sean? “Sean, Sean, where are you?”, I yell.

Calmly, “Here mate, in the shade.” Sean appears at my side from under the tree as I undo the leg tag. Sean puts it on hurriedly. I slap his back and he is away. “Go, Sean.” I rack the bike and make small talk with those around me who are already there or are arriving like I did – stuffed but stoked. I drink Endura and check my time – 1 hour 18 minutes and 5 seconds, 40.8 kms, 31.52kmph. Better than last year but slower than Noosa. It is hard to believe that effort, for that long, without a break.

Now warm down, do some stretches. Careful, nearly cramped the hamstring – ouch!!! More water. I wander over onto the grassy footpath with my bag I have now collected from the security area. Off with my clip-in shoes and on with my runners. A young guy from work appears. “Hi Brendan, how did you go?”  “Mate, an OK time, 2 hours and 20 minutes. My coach tells me it is good for the conditions, but it is slower than Noosa.” “Same as me,” I think to myself, so I feel better about that.

I straggle up to meet Sean as he finishes and while waiting ring Jenny. She is now at her daughter’s. We congratulate each other. We both are feeling tired but are buzzing from the achievement. Sean appears under the finish sign and wanders through the water spray to cool the runners. “Sean, good work, this way, get a drink!” I point to a water booth where they dispense Gatorade and water. We shake hands and say well done, all warm and fuzzy. 

This is definitely a different life to mine of 2 years before!