I know I know…….. I just love this clip. I use it often.

There is just something about this week. I am excited like I was about to do a full Ironman. Maybe it’s because I haven’t done nearly as much work as would have gone into the prep for a full Ironman. Maybe that element of doubt is there, that element of being unsure how it’s going to go down on race day. This is a relatively short race for me. A new set of competitors. People who can run fast after a bike ride which is not nearly as taxing as the ride at Ironman.

My specialty is going relatively fast for a very extended period of time. But I am throwing that to the wind and going to see what the day brings. I am going out there to represent the warrior poet and delve into the depths of the hurt locker to come out with the best result that I can possibly produce on the day. Am I willing to hurt myself? Of course I am. I am not going to the race to see how easily I can finish. I want to know how fast I can get there and that requires a special kind of effort. One which requires much pain.

Why on earth would I do such a thing? We already have those answers, don’t we…

So if I look calm to you, I am not. I am excited, I am ready to hurt, I am ready to suffer. I am ready to take it to the outer limits and fight you for that place at the finish line. If I look like I am coasting out there, I am not. I am hurting more than you can imagine. I am taking all the pain in and attempting to transfer it to forward movement. If you want to see the release, where all the pain gets exploded into the world, you better get to the finishline ahead of me. I release when I hit that carpet. So should you. Let it ALL hang out. Who cares if the tears come. Who cares if you come 1652nd. RELEASE IT………..

Lose yourself in that moment. You have EARNED it.

The limits exist only in your mind…

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So in 10 days we will all be lining up in our waves in Buffalo City with the hopes of completing a Half Ironman race in top condition without injury, incident or suffering, to finish ahead of our scheduled times in perfect weather with amazing people, flat water, no wind on the bike and loads of shade on the run, right?

Right?

Thought so. Let’s get to grips with the following things you can accept already…

1. You will suffer. It’s a Half Ironman. A 1.9km rough water swim, a 90km super tough bike and a 21.2km run with 2 big hills in it. It’s safe to say you`ll suffer. Accept it. Feel it and relish it and put it away in that sweet spot where it cannot hurt you. Do. It. Now.

2. You will doubt yourself. The bike course in East London is made to doubt yourself. You will be too slow on the way out… accept it! Many of you will wonder if you are going to make the cut off time on the bike… JUST KEEP PEDALING!!

3. There will be wind and more hills on the way back. It has happened every single year. Prepare for it. It’s not ALL downhill on the way home.

Right, now that we have that cleared, here are some vital tips to making it through the day.

1. Have a plan. Make sure you have a plan. Eat at designated times, drink enough fluid and make sure you do NOT overcook the first 20km on the bike.

2. Stick to the plan, stoopid!

3. Bodyglide goes a long way on race day where the swim is in a salty ocean. I go with the N.A.N principle, that would be Neck, Armpits, Nether regions….

4. Ask for sunscreen before the bike and before the run. Sun burn = poor performance. Would be useless to train for 6 months and throw it out the window because you couldn’t spend 10 seconds getting properly protected. Ask a volunteer, they rock and will do almost anything you ask them to do.

5. Have fun! Connect with the people on the way. Put a bubble around those who are negative and share energy with those who are positive.

6. On the hills on the bike, to kill time, count 50 right leg pedal strokes, then 50 left leg pedal strokes. Eases the mind a little.

7. Wash yourself at the last aid station. By now you are a mixture of sunscreen, Bodyglide, Coke, gel, dust, sand, grit & spit. You are NOT pretty. Your finish line photo and your family will be happier if you just give yourself a quick rinse.

Those are some small tips to make your day easier. I am going to use all of them, considering I have never raced this particular race and am going in with a humble mix of brave and stupid. Should be a cracker. If I do not acknowledge you on the run, its simply because I am suffering so badly that I can’t remember my own name.

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You`re on the start line, sitting still, looking at your heart rate monitor. It reads 134. You are supposed to max out at 158 today. What the…

It’s the adrenaline, the anticipation of the rush you are about to feel. You check your goggles one more time for fog. You look up at the sky an.. BANG! off goes the gun and you are in a flailing of arms, legs, feet, fists, heads and white water. There is foam everywhere and you are in survival mode. What race? All you want is to get through the first 100m. You find some water that isn’t filled with bubbles and stretch your stroke just a little. It feels good. The taper seems to have worked. You look around for some feet to sit on. Back into bubbles, but control this time.

Oh shoot, you are in an Ironman. All the preparation, all the sacrifice, all those hours that took forever and here you are. It suddenly dawns on you that you are here, that by getting to the start, you are 99% of the way there. You breathe a little easier and realise you are already halfway through the first lap. The feet you have are slowing and you attempt to move around but there is only clear water ahead of those feet. You look behind. 30 people are sitting your feet and you pat yourself on the back for those extra swim sets.

You judge it to be 10m to the next pack, so when you hit the beach you run hard to cross the gap and make it as you hit the water. Settle in onto the feet again. STOKE!! Lap 2 goes by so quickly you almost forget to kick a little more before hitting the beach. You high five a spectator as you run up the stairs to Transition, because YOU ARE AWESOME.

You thank the volunteers for helping you dress for the bike and hop onto your bike, the music and crowds are just a treat. Your first few pedal strokes are so easy. You feel so good. You know this will eventually go away, but you hammer a little, just because, in the first few kilometers. You settle your heart rate around 10km and aim to hit the zone. People are flying by, but your coach said this would happen. You hang tight, obey the rules and eat son! Up and over the drag you are on your way back to the coast and before you know it, that fresh air off the water is with you and the wind slightly at your back. Some of those early pace hitters are starting to fade already and you feel a-ma-zing! Lap 1 is done, right on time.

Lap 2 feels super, until about 110km. Eat boy! Eat! Focus! You find your rhythm as you come back into town, the crowds and the noise are a motivation and you bottle the energy in your thumbs and stare at them for the entire lap 3, holding focus. Before you can blink you are off the bike. The legs are not happy about the change of position. The back is stiff. You run barefoot back to the tent and it stings. You beg for sunscreen and help with your socks. Volunteers rule! Socks, shoes, cap, gels, tablets, water, what did you forget? Ahhh, there is your trusty arm band. Don’t forget it. Karma.

You hit the first aid station and need to pee. Eish. It feels like a world record in time but its a short stop. Breathe. Coke! Water! Arms up! Repeat. 40km to go. This is what it’s all about. This is make or break, this first lap. Hold BACK boy! It feels effortless. You high five a kid so hard he almost falls over. He loves it. He runs with you for 200m then fades. I AM AWESOME.

You head into the university. It’s warmer, with no people. The dead zone. You find your power song and hummmmmmmmm it loudly in your head. Where is the damn aid station?

There is it. Focus. Arms high.

Coke! Water! Gel! Water!

Tailwiiiiind!! Round the corner and lap 1 is almost done. Wow! The drone of the crowds rise and your pace a little faster as the pain seems to vanish under the cheers and the applause and the admiration for you being such a warrior. For making the commitment, for your willingness to be better than yourself. It’s 18km and the next turn and you are smashing it now. Feeling better than you ever have. You are so in the zone and your pace is so dialed you don’t even have to look at your heart rate monitor anymore. Your smile says it all.

You cruise through the back section of the loop with more confidence this time, knowing the crowd reward at the end of lap 2. You head out on lap 3 and with 10km to go, you feel mega tired for the first time. They have either switched to coke light or you are missing something. Fatigue is creeping and your head feels a little fuzzy.

Hold it together. Just like in training. Come on, boy! Focus! One step in front of the other. This is now really hurting. 8km to go and into the university. What is this hill? Was is here on lap 1 or lap 2? Sheeshkebab! You walk for the first time. You make the choice to laugh at yourself instead of cry. I AM HUMAN.

When the hill flattens, you find your stride again. Just make it to the aid station. Baby steps. COOOKE!! COOOKE!!

The long downhill to the last turn on your most epic day ever seems quiet and your reflection begins long before you hit the finish line. The noise is distant and you wake to the emotions you have been hiding for so long. You swell up and let a tear loose. Your stride begins to grow and your pain disappears. You feel euphoric and you head back to the noise with a returned smile.

You stop at your supporters area and thank everyone. They yell at you to keep going. You oblige.

You hit the carpet.

There are 2000 cheering and a huge sound system blaring.

You hear nothing. It’s dead quiet. You feel numb. I AM AWESOME. You raise your hands, cross the line and life returns. The beautiful day is over. Bring it back…

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Race pictures to follow, but wanted to get a report out quickly before I head off for the 3 day trip it takes to get home from here. Yesterday was Xterra in Maui, the World Championships. I was hunting for a good day, a bit of a miracle, as my legs were pretty shattered from Kona, just 14 days prior. I had never trained straight after an Ironman and it proved to be hard and I felt the fatigue all week.

I had a bit of a nightmare the day before, as I replaced my chain as a precaution and once I did that, it turned out that other problems existed. I had to replace the cassette as well as the chainrings. Not a major issue on its own, but it turned out there were no chainrings on the entire Island. Crap!

In the end, I had to buy a new chainset at last minute, being the last guy to get his bike out of the shop. 6pm. Bit of a stress and quite a bit of walking around, which was not great.

Race morning arrived and I was excited to give it everything I had. I had heard great things about the race and was keen to give it a big go. I was still in the hunt for the overall Double title, if the two guys I was racing had a bad day or a mechanical, after the mishaps of Kona.

We had Hawaiian Warriors send us off with a traditional dance and before I knew it the gun went off and we were in the water, a mad thrashing of arms, legs and really, all bodyparts. Far rougher than the Ironman swim, I got punched in the head and kicked in the nose before the first buoy and decided to chill off the back of the pack as I saw I was quite near the front and knew the day was a long one. I survived the swim as best as I could and was out the water in a respectable time.

Loved the fact that my Forerunner was able to include swim, bike, run & transitions into the equation smoothly. Out onto the bike and man, the course was brutal. I was going well for the first 5km or so, the intensity was great and I felt great. The slow puncture (in my hip flexors) was next to arrive and was debilitating and I had really expected to feel flat at times, but this was totally not what I expected. My heart rate dropped by 8 beats and my hip flexors were super tight, without the power I have become accustomed to on the bike. The thing I had spent all year working on was now my biggest enemy. I was super on the flat parts, but everytime the road went up I went backwards. I was unstable out the saddle, something which made me laugh. My Fretten will tell you I love powering over the little hills, but yesterday I was hopeless, looking for a smaller gear and unable to get out the saddle at times, my hips were so tired.

The ride was super technical and the Morewood Zula was amazing on the technical stuff. I was loving the downhill stuff, slippery as all hell. The new tires were superb and the bike handled so well. Made up some places on the downhill but the Double title was gone, Thomas came by with a smile and I salute him for the effort he made yesterday.

Onto the run with the new Puma Haraka cross country flats, nursing toenails on the verge of falling out and wondering how I was going to lift my feet with them tired hips. True to form, the first km was flat and I was motoring. Then it went uphill for about 4km and I died, having to walk the steep stuff a few times with a soft chuckle to myself. When it was flat I could motor, but the hills were abysmal and the effort to lift my feet was excruciating, the hip flexors crying for relief. I caught 3 guys in my age group but it was in the end, not enough.

The beach was fun and the spooky forest was amazing. I cheered and jumped across the finish line with a big smile, happy that it was over. 4th and 80 odd seconds short of the podium on a day when I was really not myself is a big achievement for me and I was super happy with that awful tinge of “what could have been” but really, super happy to also have finished 2nd amateur in the world for the Double to Tommy, who has won it before and had raced 22 Ironmans and 6 Xterra Maui races.

Congrats to Conrad for winning his 4th title and to Mikey Keith for domination of the 15-19 category. He passed me on the bike like I was having a picnic at the lowest of my times, but his form picked me up and gave me a bit of vooma for the rest of the ride. The kid has a bright future indeed.

To all who dominated to the afterparty with myself and the joyous South Africans, thank you. Those who came along for the mass skinny dip, fantastic. I am awaiting the photo from Dan on the Koi I caught with my bare hands to share with you and hope nobody is sharing photos from the large gathering in the hot tubs on any social network. It was such a laugh, ALL night long, until the sun came out this morning.

Will get the pictures and the Garmin info up ASAP when I am back on my pc and have the pictures from official race photographers.

Until then, I wish you an amazing week ahead. Go out there and find something that gives you the joy a child experiences when he falls head over heels madly in love with his newest toy. Divulge in its amazepeguinballerness and squeeze every millimeter of joy out of it.

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What a week that has gone by. Thought to drop an array of thoughts, facts and figures before its out. Below is first up, the run of Ironman. 3:24 for a slightly long run, but if you click through you will see the moving time is 3:13 and you should be able to see the short and long potty stops. 11 minutes of lost time, but that was what it was. I am still proud to have run a 3:13 ex potty stops with a seriously bloated stomach and hyponatremia. I am excited to see what I could run on a great day now. I am thinking under 3:05 on a good day.

…then I spent the week hobbling around with bad, oozing toes, which have subsided and I have now been for 2 short runs and all seems to be ok. Have ridden and swum every day until today, which has been interesting in its own, training the week after Ironman. Tough, but the legs did come back.

The afterparty was great. Yes, the skinny dipping tradition continued. Thanks to the Specialized crew who were part of the madness and respect to driving the crazies around the island looking for stuff to do at 3am.

Today we went exploring and man, this island is amazing. In 7 hours we did sunshine, clouds, rain, lava rock, lunar landscape, tropical rainforest, pine forest, Scotland landscape, true KZN style areas, flowing Karoo outbacks, dry desert, and the beach. Crazy, but here on Big Island you get 13 of the worlds 14 climates, all on 1 island. It varied from 10 degrees celcius to 35 as well. Crazy.

It, by the way, is not possible to jump over a waterfall, as witnessed in this awesome picture. Them Puma’s are bright and have had so many compliments about them. Another impossible thing is to summons whales from the highway, desperate as I tried…

What there is here though, is ALOT of climbing on the bike. Check this for a ride, which we did on the Zula’s this week…

1300m climbing in 30 odd kilometers. It was so beautiful up above the clouds. We are going back there tomorrow. Excited. Got some new tires which are the bizniz and thanks to Dan for that. It’s been a joy to hang out with him as well after the interview we did a week or so ago, which was actually done way before I left.

Having TheHousemate here has been easy too. He has left the world of financial business at home and has trained up a storm. He is going to suprise himself next weekend in Maui, when we are racing this. Have met Tommy, who has won the Double (Ironman + Xterra combined time) and he is about 7 minutes up on me. Really too bad I had a bad day out at Ironman, because its doubtful I will put 7 minutes into him at Xterra, but I am going out there leaving nothing on the course, going ALL IN, just a hairs breath short of full retard to make it happen. I am looking forward to being on the fabled course and all it has to offer.

That’s really it for this week. Been a great, eventful, busy one. Going to watch Jackass 3D tonight for some light entertainment. Should be amazing. Chat on Monday…

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I wanted to write this a little differently, as a day worth of reflection still has me a little dazed as to the challenge that was out there on the day. Yes, sitting at the awards banquet last night I was happy, and I still am, but there was a moment of thought that went to what could have been. I am very happy with my result, how my body went and what I went through on the day.

As the experience is so personal, I thought to write this as a point of view, almost through my eyes and hopefully I’ll be able to take you with me on an amazing journey for the next 10 minutes or so that lead to the moment you see there in the photo.

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Beep beep beep! 4am alarms are never subtle and this was so different. Ok. Get up. Get food in and get the body going. Breakfast at 4am is never quite what it is at 9am. Force it down, you’ll need it later.

Coffee, brush teeth and into the car. Nice tune. Going to be a great day, can just feel it. Legs feel amazing; have felt so good all week. Time to cash in some cheques.

I have to pump tires, get nutrition onto the bike and get my special needs bags in, get body marked, swim bag in, toilet and quiet time in the next 60 minutes. Plenty time. It’s all going smoothly until the mechanic drops my valve extender into the wheel. Shouldn’t make a noise once going 40km/h, I think.

Bang! Pro’s are off, 6:30. Time to get into the water for a quick warm-up and then wait for the start. 1800 people in a squashed area with 15 minutes to go, feet and arms everywhere. People starting to panic with claustrophobia. The noises are not great. 10 minutes to go. Breathe. BOOOOOOM! I get a great start and find some nice hips to sit on. Into the front pack I go, the arms are feeling great. All the extra swimming was worth it. High elbows, breathe. Focus. I move to the back of the pack and find some feet. It feels great and the pace is easy. This is going so well.

Around the halfway and all is well. Group is sticking together. Nice. Pack slows a little and I look up to see a split as someone just ahead of me has swum skew. Oh well. Let them go, no point chasing. 500m to go and I work my way to the front of the pack so get a clear run up transition. Woop! 20th out the water I hear. Perfect.

Helmet, nutrition, glasses and go go go! Onto the bike, press start on the Garmin. Click. Legs feel golden. Up Kuakini highway to the first turn around and I feel great. Making up 2 or 3 places by the time we hit Palani and I just spin up, will catch the big bladders on the Queen K. Body is feeling amazing, just hold back. We are about 20 riding together and I am sitting near the front, about 3rd or 4th wheel, just cruising. 20, 30, 40km go by smoothly. Waikoloa comes quickly this time, despite the headwind. 38km/h is about right; the pack is riding so nice. All the contenders are here. The Katana is sweet and running like a dream.

Turn left, then right to Hawi and here is the wind. Cruising up, feeling good. Gusts are heavy, hold the wheel. I get blown across the road, almost two lanes and have to hit the brakes hard to avoid going off the road. Red card. Blocking, apparently. I say something. Not smart. 4 minutes becomes 6 and I am off. Pack gone. Don’t chase, you’ll catch them later, your run has been golden of late. Just be patient.

Special needs, must get my calories. They can’t find my bag. I press stop on the Garmin. 3 minutes later, I am off, without calories. No bag. It happens. Find your tempo and watch the wind, which is now gusting at 90km/h side on. Garmin says I am cruising at 60km/h down here. Woo hoo! The wind is howling, making riding in the aerobars virtually impossible. It’s not ideal and I can feel the body tense up. At 115km I for the first time in ages hit a real low. I decide its time to push through. It’ll go away, in 10km or so. I know my body; this is just how it goes. 125 become 135 and I am still in a dark hole somewhere avoiding thought of the past or the future. Just hold this moment right here. Yes, it hurts. No, its not particularly fun. Yes, it will pass. It’s stupid hot now. So hot it almost takes my breath away. 145km. Come on body, come back…. Please. Doubt, fear, looking at myself and realizing there is only one way out of this and that is to keep going. Headwind is not helping and I am continuously being dropped by single riders coming by. Motivation, please come back.

155km and all are good again. Something clicks. Checking splits, I know I can make it under 5 hours, ex penalties and lost bags. Awesome, considering how bad that patch was. All those hours spent, 100% worth it in that moment. Bag me and tag me and ship me off. Wait; still have a marathon to run with a pair of legs that want to run. Let’s do this…

Struggling with the socks in T2, on wet feet and an endurance athletic haze. That plugged into the wall feeling. Awesome. This is it, where it all happens. Let’s do this. I know I can run way under 3:10 if I just hold back on Alii drive. The Eutopia’s are awesome. I hear someone in T2 say its 126 degrees outside. Makes total sense, considering what I felt out there.

Water, ice, coke. Repeat. Focus. Form. Hold back. Whatever you do, just hold back till 21km. Bladder bursting, stop for the official world record pee at 3 miles. Now that feels better than I expected. Let’s get back into this and crush it. Heart rate is 150, running 4:10 per km. Legs feel amazing. Aid stations going perfectly. Wow, already at the old church. Turn around and head back. Good job! So thirsty.

The way back is easy and feels great. Easy now, control. Hold back. Slow it down to 4:20 per km so you can smash the Queen K, I tell myself.

Walk/jog up Palani, quick, little feet. Up onto the highway and let’s do this downhill thing. At 18km my stomach drops and I am searching for good news, but it’s nowhere to be found. It’s not a cramp, this is serious. You are in white shorts Raoul, there is no hiding anything. Toilet stop. Stomach explodes. Its ok, won’t happen again. Get back out and onto pace. Cramps. Shit. Nausea. This is not good.

Toilet stop, holding back nausea. Run. Repeat.

Energy Lab. It’s hot hot hot. Cramps are excruciating. Feeling dizzy. Come on! Just one foot in front of the other. It’s becoming an aid station to aid station run with slow walking through the aid stations. Out the lab and back to town. You can do this. Come on.

Toilet stop.

Run. Feeling better. Back to 4:30 per km between aid stations, but the aid stations are slow and I let the cramps go. The acoustics coming out my rear are awful and all I can offer is apologies to other athletes. 2 more hills Raoul, you are running well, despite the odds. Let’s finish this.

One more hill. Come on. Hold it together. The pain will stop when you hit the line.

Really now? What the hell is this? How are my toes so freaking sore all of a sudden? Walking down the fun downhill? Really? It makes me smile. I high five some people. They think I am crazy to be walking, but I cannot explain how sore my big toes are. Damn wet socks. 1 mile to go. The pain is unreal until I hit 200m to go. This time, I am not going to care about the extra minutes. I high five people, cheer with the crowd. Hug a fellow competitor. I walk when I get to the carpet.

There is no finish line. Just an ellipsis for a release before life continues. I close my eyes, raise my hands and breathe. It’s quiet, there is no noise and I cannot hear people or music. The moment feels like forever, but it’s maybe a second. Release. No pain, no feeling, no tears this time. It’s a beautiful, simple moment. Just a pause, but it’s earned.

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Kona is amazing, the place that inspires beyond what can be explained. I am epically grateful for the opportunity to compete here. Thank you to all the kind people who support me, send me messages and wishes of going well. I believe I had the form. That will come in another post. For now, times don’t matter and this is all about the moment.

This is the place where mistakes are magnified, but where pushing through collectively rewards greater on an emotional scale than any other race. I could analyze about penalties, better stomachs and what could have been, but really, I have no regrets.

I hope you enjoyed that. I could never give it the full meaning. That is why I write, because I hope to inspire you to try this out. To live it through your eyes. Thank you for listening.

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Thought to get a quick post up about the toughest day, for me, but also one of the best ever.

The 9:37 you will see on the scoreboard tells so little. Thankfully, the Garmin’s tell a whole different one. The Garmins, which don’t measure time spent next to the side of the road, waiting for an irate draft marshal to calm down giving me a 6 minute penalty for almost falling off my bike in the crosswinds, will also show you the 12 odd minutes I spent in 4 toilet stops on the run. They total a 9:14 with my fastest run ever (3:14) and a 4:59 ride. They do not, however, show you the 3-4 minutes I spent waiting for my special needs bag to arrive on the bike.

I wish they could show the emotional hell I went through in km 115-155 on the bike, where I had to face my biggest competitor yet – myself. Gosh, those were dark times, but I came through with a smile.

Really though, the day was amazing and the body performed well under stressful conditions (45 degrees ambient heat on the bike) and crazy winds, fighting a temperamental stomach which had too much sugar in it.

The biggest congrats for the day goes out to Ray Tissink, who silenced every critic he has ever had. You rock, Ray. I will attempt to put the words together tomorrow, but really, this is Ironman and no words will ever describe the day I had. The frustration, the elation, the euphoria of coming through the bad patches and the reality that history will show I had an off day today. Thankfully I know better and I am smiling ear to ear because I dominated every doubt and fear I had out there today.

Congrats to Macca and Rinny for their amazing performances today. They are true champions.

Raoul

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I have wanted to interview Dan for a while, having bought him a drink when he was underage in a dodgy bar in Madeira, many moons ago. It’s been a privilege to watch his rise through the ranks to being in my opinion, one of the finest multi sport athletes in the world. He is a thinker, a tinkerer and like me, mildly obsessive at times. These answers should convince you to watch his progress and learn from the details he presents to the world.

I may be one of the guys who understands your drive to get every nanomillimeter out of your body better than most. How much of a difference do you think body composition makes, even among the pro ranks, where differences are small and vary race to race?

My man, that’s a lengthy response with currently heated emotions you summon. Yes, at the top it seems to become ultimately specific. Perhaps the most relate-able example is a Contador vs Cancellara – both cyclists, both icons, both unbeatable when the playing field suits them.

The Xterra racing on the USA circuit is really varied, and often highlights strengths and weaknesses amongst the few at the top end. The series final was the past weekend, which including 3000ft of elevation gain on the bike alone. Which is as much climbing as Alp d’Huez. With remote transitions we hardly had any descent, making it a very course specific race. I was grumpy regarding all this, until fellow South African, Conrad Stoltz, who is not a climber either, biked 5minutes into the rest of us.

Reality is, we all have varied ability, and limitation in how much we can adjust them. I am still figuring my own capabilities, and am really curious to spend a season more focused on Ironman 70.3 racing. I believe my body and energy systems may be better suited to most 70.3 courses. I can only race a handful of events in a season, and being able to hand pick the courses and condition that best suit my ability is weighing odds to my favour.

Tell me/us about Boulder and why you have seemingly fallen in love with the place.

Boulder is the triathlon mecca of the USA. Especially for the long course triathletes. A tough generalization, but Ironman racing is the pinnacle of the triathlon niche in America. And all its A-list reside for all or part of the year in the small town nestled against the Colorado Rockies. Between the perfect weather and perfect bodies – there is plenty excellence and inspiration to feed off and become the best athlete you can.

Boulder is at 5400ft, but a quick drive and you’re running at 8500ft, or any longer ride can be done mostly on Peak to Peak highway, which again is undulating at 8000ft. There is rolling when going North-South, and flatlands when headed East. West has a variety of climbing to suit any session.

Beyond the triathlon circles its very similar to Stellenbosch. Small, a uni town, affluent, very sports orientated. And overwhelmingly hippy. I’ve not smelt such strong weed nor seen so many dreads on any of my travels. I do like how progressive town is – definitely a thinking man’s home with a active lifestyle as habit.

Working with fat oxidative rates and improving them is becoming slightly more trendy but I still find myself with blank faces when I approach smart people about it. Can you tell us your experience with working with fat oxidative rates for the body as well as where the limits and shortfalls lie?

Sure, I was trying to maximise my aerobic oxidation capacity this past summer. Forcing more and more of my energy to come from fat energy as opposed to carbohydrate energy which has lactate as a by-product. I am still a student of the game, and will always be it seems.

My feeling is that optimal diet is not such personal to individual athletes, but to individual athletes and their current race goals. I got incredibly efficient at aerobic exercise, which would have been golden had I been training for an Ironman. However, with 2h racing much time is spent at Threshold and even VO2 max, and I’m uncertain whether focus on fat oxidation should be primary or secondary.

Either way, I tipped over the edge, not for training too much volume, or eating too little, but for eating vary specifically and in specific patterns. Forcing my body into a state of hypoglycemia regularly. The hormones that respond to restoring normal blood sugar get desensitized and eventually a domino effect had me totally “hormonal” in bad way. Sure, thats an oversimplification, and lack protein was critical to the melt down, but trying to maximise fat oxidation laid the foundation to a collapse. At the same time, there is much benefit not just as an athlete but as an individual pursuing a state of well-being.

Good fats are beyond good. They’re essential. Sugar and stress is the enemy of health.

You are coming to the Big Show this year (Kona), to watch, work the expo and watch the race. Is it on your to-do list, or like Conrad, are you going to leave it to us “crazies”?

I have never felt more inspired to race Ironman some day, and especially to race Kona. I have spent the past four months very close to the inner Ironman elite here in Boulder, and could not resist the thinking that Ironman is normal and that Kona is the holy grail.

It may be years from now, but I will race and represent South Africa in Kona.

For Maui, what are your expectations this year after a bit of a melt down mid year? I know of a few pro’s who’ve had melt downs mid year and come back to win a world champs later in the year, across various sports. Where do you see your role in the race?

I’ve had one outing at Maui before, and am really excited to be returning two years later. Getting there, and getting to the finish is not to be taken for granted. I hope for a bit of magic, but I know how much better I can be, where I can still improve as a rounded athlete, and until such a time as me believing I am the best I can be, it is hard to believe I’ll be the best in the world.

I am swimming well, and riding is close. With some good legs on the day I’ll be close off the bike, in theory, and would gladly be surprised on the run. We’ll see.

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There you have it. Dan is someone who takes his profession extremely seriously, someone who I enjoy talking to and who I learn from every time we go for a bike ride (where I am merely hanging onto the back). We wish him luck for Xterra Worlds, but more importantly, we will be buying him a coffee in Kona to laugh at life. Follow him on Twitter for more regular updates. His tweets are always raw, which is kieeeef bru.

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If THAT doesn’t get you pumped up, then nothing will. Right now I am on a jetplane, to Johannesburg, connecting to London, to Los Angeles and to Kona. I am shooting halfway across the globe for my moment, to rely on myself and only myself, to give myself a shot at the greatest triathlon race on the planet. Over the next few weeks I am going to attempt something truly ambitious.

Failure is not going to get into my head. Here is the bit you are going to love:

I cannot fail, because I am only going out there to race myself. I cannot lose or come second, because I am going to go out there and DEMAND everything from myself, because I owe it to myself. That is why I cannot fail. Once you learn this, one of the biggest lessons in life, you too will drop from watching the others, racing the others and you will too learn that the greatest competitor you will EVER face, is yourself.

I am going halfway across the globe to put myself in the toughest conditions ever, to race myself in the place that brings out the deepest, darkest moments to the very front of your mind like a sledgehammer beating on your forehead, because I want to know what it’s like to look myself in the eye and wipe away every morsel of doubt, every fear I have ever had and smash through it. I want to run through the pain and into pure release, glory personified with a blank stare running back to Alii Drive where that finishline will not define me, where it will be an Ellipsis before my simple life carries on.

I am going to go and smash my second place into a million pieces so that there is only a 1st place left for me. There may be 1800 competitors out there in Kona on raceday, but I am racing only 1 of them…

So when you ask me what my goals are, when you ask me if I am ready, if I am scared, the answers are here for all to see. Now watch that video again, go find yourself in the moment and race yourself, completely in your own world, where nobody is visible but the barrier that is stopping you from becoming the absolute best version of yourself.

Bring. It. On.

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With the wind howling on the weekend, I had to make my way out to Durbanville to ride what was supposed to be 114km in 3 hours. That was the goal. The attached Garmin file is therefor, a little misleading. There are a few km’s missing, where I am at fault for pressing the wrong buttons (I am still learning), right at the start. I had a mechanical issue out the gate and stopped the watch, only to realise this 10km down the road, which is too bad, as it was about the only 10km with tailwind. The rest was side on and not much fun. Learning to handle the new Urban Ninja wheels in this wind though, was a fantastic opportunity to test them in a race scenario.

Either way, the two main sections were covered at good pace and I called it with 8km to go for a bit of a cool down, as I was quite dehydrated (I went in the middle of the day and ran out of water at 10km to go, so just soft pedaled home until I could refresh before my t-run.

Nice little widget this, from Garmin. Something you`ll be seeing more of on here. I have, indeed, found an amazing new partner for 2010, and 2011, in Garmin. A big thank you, they have come to the party for the Kona trip in ways you cannot imagine. Also, this now makes me accountable for the mileage I do, as well as being able to show you what I am trying to achieve.

I wanted to push 37km/h for around 110km on the weekend. 37km/h gives me 4:51 at the Ironman distance. I went and found a course specific to Kona, with loads of rollers and drags. Indeed, only 600m in the 110km I have registered on the Garmin, but if you had to look at the altitude widget, you would find lots of little bumps in the road. What you will also not see is the headwind on the way home. In Kona, the wind kicks up once you get to the halfway mark, so simulating that meant having to suffer exactly like it, going through the mental notes of “damn, no tailwind to help early, and now, a headwind on the way home”.

Emotionally that is tough.

It took a lot of focus to do the ride on my own. Much bad language was heard around 80km by the birds and the bees. But you have to tough it out, get in the moment and make sure you get back home. I had SA Blog Awards to deal with that night, where Urban Ninja was voted the 2nd best sports blog in South Africa. Congrats to you, for voting so many times.

Just nice to beat all the football and rugby blogs… it shows you are a tight community who get involved. Thank you.

So, back to the brick. We do the brick because we want to simulate race day, what it feels like and to get a reality check on that.

For me, to have ridden the 114km mark in roughly 2:56-57 I reckon (factoring in 10km of downhill-esque riding missing from the data) at a heart rate of 141, I am super happy. I averaged around 145-148 in PE and will look to roughly do the same in Kona again. I am even more pleased that I was able to hold the same pace, into the headwind as with the tailwind on the way out. It took quite a bit more focus, effort and a higher heart rate for sure, but I managed.

My run after went great until about 2km when my mouth was so dry I had to make way for the Engen garage to get a coke into the system at 4km. Without a doubt, under fueled all day. When there is no aid station every 10km, its tough to stop and refill on a rural road. Still managed 6km in 25min. I only need to run 4:25 at Ironman to hit my ultimate goal, but the idea is to take it out a little harder in these bricks, but to follow the watch religiously in Kona. Hopefully, the thought goes, it will seem quite easy then, and that is the point, because when I hit the lab, I want to be able to shift a gear…

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