Keystrokes from the ghetto

Back in primary school, standard three to be precise, Mrs King annonced me the pin up boy for letter writing after I aced some homework that involved writing a letter to my Grandma. Clearly it was a one off as I'm hopeless at keeping you updated on all things nuggety. Guess I'll have to run with the quality over quantity approach.

Anyway how the bloody hell are ya?! 

Riding yesterday I got passed by, what could only be an absolute German good bastard, as he was driving a Hilux ute - first one I've seen here. I got all choked up and overrun with warm-fuzzy thoughts of those New Zealand back roads, but then realised I was riding in blazing mid 30 degree sunshine and quickly quashed all emotion.

So I've been filling my last couple of weekends with races in Germany, neither result is worth writing home about, but I'll do it anyway, because it at the end of the day you might get a laugh or learn something like I did.

Schliersee is stunning. T2 is up in the Bavarian Alps in the distance.

It all started with Schliersee where I wound up 17th which was no where near where I was aiming, but I learnt a thing or two so it meant it wasn't a waste of 10 hours in a van. Firstly, kaiserschmarrn is the super incentive for climbing the beast of a hill to second transition. I wish I'd had the opportunity to try it beforehand as maybe I'd have found another gear. What it is, is these Bavarian style pancake meringues morsels covered with powdered sugar and served with apple puree on the finish line, at 1,100m. More than enough to impress even the Gordon Ramsay wanna-bees. Secondly, now write this down, always know your course. Riding a few wheels back into a sharp corner kicking into a steep narrow climb is not ideal, but worse when the great divide opens up a couple of bikes in front of you and there's no Team Sky to close it for you. Always know your course. I scrambled to cover the run third fastest, but from second bunch it's as handy as tits on a nun.

I thought I ate enough kaiserschmarrn to recover and knock out my last hard week into Dusseldorf, but turned out I should have gone back for thirds. A few hard days later, all boxed up and crying on the inside, I was off to race Dusseldorf. 'Race' was maybe optimistic, ironman race pace was about as good as I could manage, which didn't bode well considering the world class field on the start line. I was in the zone where I just couldn't hurt myself, but shit, if I came into contact with these cobbles on the bike I definitely could.

The course was quite technical, with some nasty consequences if you did get it wrong. It was all ok until we hit the easiest, straightest, widest part of the course on the last lap and suddenly bikes were piling up in front of me. Slamming on the anchors I was wondering which part of Will Clarke would be least painful to try and bunny hop, but luckily managed to haul it in and avoid the worst. Again bunch positioning had proved costly and the splintered line we rolled into T2 with was how the guts of the run would go. I finished a very disappointing 30th, but hopefully iced off my key training block into Palamos this weekend, and Geneva the weekend after.

So that's racing.

On a session between the two races I came across this German gem of a sign, as to what it means, well it's pretty obvious really. When driving in your tank you can go 60 if the road is clear but, only 40 if another tank is coming at you. Safety first.

Right then Fred, Sam Osborne and I, or 'Scam' as we are affectionately known locally, are off to do some training.

Love to my homies,

nugget.

It's been a while between drinks

Sorry for the wee lapse in the flow of nuggety words, truth is I’ve been out training the house down in four seasons here in Germany. You see, just like Tim Don or Jan Frodeno suggested in their Specialized videos, I also do 15 hour training days for breakfast, then start my hard sessions.

Really though, the title to this yarn is a little misleading as it hasn’t been too long since my last drink, in fact there is a Pfungstader Radler beside me as I write this. As I’m sure you’re aware, ‘bier’ is a big deal in Germany and just as in New Zealand, exactly what brew you’re drinking is rather important. Because of this, so not to offend anyone, before the Pfungstader I had a Darmstadter, naturally.

Enough of the beer though, the second most important reason I’m in Europe is triathlon and despite thunder and lightning raining heavily on the parade, the DSW Darmstadt boys and I managed to get in a quick race yesterday. It was home track for us and after a team ‘win or death’ pep talk from a nervous trainer we were into it. I got the choke just right and dropped the clutch for a good start, but second gear was bloody hard to find in the fighting mass of neoprene. Once I got it though I was head down arse up into it and hit the sand third, managing to mount my steed first.

This used to cue the start of the hardest part of the race for me, but with Tim and I coming up with a few breathing-out-your-arse style swim-bike sessions I’m a changed man. It was hammer down before I looked back to see daylight, well a dingy, shitty, rainy attempt at daylight. I sat up and took a highly refreshing drink from my fluid sponsor - it really works for me and I find it means I hold, on average, 32.8 watts more for a sprint race. It has the perfect carbohydrate, electrolyte, protein, pH balance and the flavour doesn’t upset my stomach. Water. Plug done, I’d love to say when the first guy rode up to me we attacked and stayed away, but we didn’t. We had a go but, boring story short, I think almost the entire race came off the bike together for a dangerously slippery, muddy transition. Up to my tits in mud trying to keep me and my two-wheeler upright, I felt like I was racing cyclo-cross!

Chuffed to get through transition I had the goal of trying to emulate a Brownlee, I don’t really care which one, actually scratch that, I was trying to be the ‘Super Brownlee’. Within the first 100m I’d already failed as I’m sure I’d blown out to 2.50 pace, but pushed on regardless. Initially I was dodging the lake-like puddles on course, but then I started to enjoy myself and went for it kiwi style up the guts. Oh, the little things eh! Just as the weather started to clear, I splashed down the carpet to break my first race tape in Europe. Great place to do it in my home away from home and the team got the job done to come out on top overall too. Like Borat says, “great success!”

Thanks to my sponsors, namely, 229 Heinrichstrauss and everyone at the DSW club, I can’t thank you enough for all your hospitality and help. It’s onwards and upwards for me, a week hosting the legend himself, Mr Dylan McNiece ladies and gentlemen. Will be good to hear a kiwi accent and get back to the meat and veg 15 hour training days to get ready for the next Bundesliga, Schliersee, in two weeks. Ohhhh yeeeeaaah!

Say hi to your mum for me.

Nugget.

Fancy a jog?

The running here in Darmstadt is second to none and would have to some of the best in the world. Happiness is best shared though, so I thought I'd do my best to take you for a run here. I'd say close your eyes and read this, but that would be a bit awkward and make the going pretty tough.

So, you're heading out for an easy hour, the first km is on a cinder type surface and winds through the bustling university campus before hooking head-on into the forest. Here's were the fun starts. Everything is bright luscious, floor to ceiling green. Sweet fresh air fills your lungs and you're on a long straight gravel road with grass claiming the middle. A couple of hundred metres along, a single track darts off to the right, you take it. It twists and turns, rising and falling gently as it goes. Nothing so steep as to stunt your pace, but rather smooth and flowing so you can ride easily with small changes in your cadence and stride length. The ground beneath you requires a bit more attention now and your eyes are drawn down from the trees to concentrate on the uneven sandy dirt. It's light and soft in the sun and a muddy rut in the shade - perfect for the wild pigs that have rooted the grassy edges of the track last night. Your senses sharpen, wondering, are the pigs still around? And, could you catch one? Imagine that! Maybe down this track to the left? The excited adrenaline makes you take it, curious to see where it will take you and what you might stumble upon. Realistically though, you have no idea where you are going. North, South, East and West are lost in the mirage of trails within the odenwald. The only way of learning is by running and chancing across landmark pieces to the puzzle. Worst case scenario, there's always the 'Back to Start' button on the Garmin. 

Shit. You almost lose it on a rickety log bridge across a quietly bubbling stream. Suddenly your senses change, someone turned out the lights and turned on the sound. The canopy joins high overhead all but shutting out the sun and your ears are filled with the sound of countless seasons of leaves sighing beneath your every step. A few quick strides up the rise and your thrust out into the sun. Your eyes are struggling to adjust to the acre of bright yellow crop to your left and to your FARK! There's two deer! They've seen you first though and are in full flight heading for the coverage of the bush. Instantly the easy jog is forgotten and your throttle is wide open, diving down the first track after them. Your imagination runs wild, spurred on by some prehistoric beast in you and for 5 seconds you're in the chase. Reality then hits you square in the ankle as your tendons creak over an unseen tree root. Calm down and get back to your easy jog. 

There's white pollen flowing constantly past your face and big black beetles spotting the track, many having fallen victim to the cyclists commuting on this trail. The track breaks right, skirting around a ancient bomb crater, and you drop down onto a clearing dominated by a small lake where an old man is fishing, with a pole even older than him. This is the landmark you were hunting for, from here you can get home. It's 20 minutes and it surely isn't the fastest way, but at least you know it.

1 hour, 3 minutes and 42 seconds later you're back on your doorstep having just been for the best run of your life. Until tomorrow.

I can't quite deliver on the sights, sounds and smells like Margaret Mahy, but hopefully you managed a glimpse into where I'm trotting every day. To help you paint a picture in your head, some fellas did take this photo while out enjoying the odenwald, European style.

Hope you're well,

Nugget

Topsy-turvy opening in Europe

Now, where was I... 

That's right, WWIII at the airport check-in desk. Long story short, I lost and my bank account suffered some ugly battle scars from excess baggage. All aside though, I got on the plane and made it to Germany without too many dramas... (if I dismiss that my video screen not working between Sydney and Seoul; for reasons unknown we sat on the airport runway for 2 hours when we arrived in Incheon and; I got stuck in the window seat amid a pack of Korean businessmen who celebrated some "rery big deal" from there to Frankfurt. The same bunch who laughed when I ruined my airline meal by adding some, "hahaha, this is some rery hot Korean sauce"),  it was a great trip. How good is the New Zealand comfort zone eh?

From Germany it was straight down to Spain in time for the briefing for my first race - Banyoles. It's a ripper of a posse and even in early May the mercury was climbing into the 30's. See the view for yourself below, if you are reading in NZ, BYO warmth.

In hindsight, it was rather optimistic to adopt the number-8-wire-style, 'she'll be right mate', approach to flying Wellington-Sydney-Seoul-Frankfurt-Girona and stepping out of the plane on to the start line. It bit me in the arse, hard. Literally. Arriving in Banyoles I couldn't ride my bike without my arse cheeks feeling cripplingly tight, like my gluts were going to snap on any one pedal stroke. It was crazy, my arse was probably even tighter than the one on that hot girl in the skinny jeans I saw down on Heinrich-Fuhr-Strasse Street today. Only mine was awful. Dispite stretching my arse off, mind the pun, I was a mess come race day and biking was excruciating. I was faced with one of a triathlete's most feared 'D' words and had no choice but to DNF early on the bike. Having ticked the boxes in training and flown to the otherside of the world, it really ripped my undies and I was proper gutted, for me, and everyone who supports me.

Such is triathlon I suppose and due to the nature of the European beast, I had six days to sort my shit out and get my body together for the first Bundesliga in Buschhutten. This race was all new to me and consisted of a 5 x 200m relay swim, 26km team time trial ride, and a 5.6km footrace where the only thing that mattered was how fast your fourth-best team member could run. 

My body turned up to race and I was last away for Darmstadt, (my German club), in a swim so short it wasn't worth getting wet for, but *insert choice words* it was cold! In a blur we were soon humming along the autobahn, basically all 16 teams together. Dispite the road being three lanes wide, 16 x 5-man TT trains is utter chaos and is a crash waiting to happen. With my limited German in composed situations, my "links" (left) and "recht" (right) screams were gibberish to teams we were trying to ride around.


Glad to be out of the high speed carnage, it was run time, where I worked some entirely new muscles while racing. Being one of the stronger runners it was my job to get the weaker runners to the finish line as fast as possible. This meant hurling encouraging abuse in German-English; pushing politely, but as firmly as possible on their lower back; and being their very own dedicated water boy. As I write this the sorest muscles are my throat from screaming and shoulder from pushing! It all worked well though and the team was stoked to come away with 6th place in the company of some stacked teams. 

Awesome fun with some great guys, and being screamed at in German is an entirely new experience. Celebrations all round with some sponsored Krombacher-AlkoholFrie, athlete-style... then it was off to Burger King for the real festivities on the way home.

Cheers if you've read this far, that's bloody top notch and I appreciate your support / internet stalking. Hi Mum. I have so much more to write about all things Deutschland, but will bottle that up and bore you with it the next rainy day.

Okay, it's over and out from Darmstadt,
Tschuss, (German for 'see ya')
Nugget.

Pakeha Brand Butter and other sh*t

Yeah gidday,

Thought I'd take the time to check in with a wee update on all things Nugget.

The biggest thing in my life right now, by far, is excess baggage.
Not the emotional girly type, that would be much easier to deal with. This is the airline type where you pay sixty bucks to take a $5 pair of gruts to Europe. You love those undies though so there's really no option but to bite the bullet and pay through your ring to get a few home comforts to the other side of the world with you. I'm going into battle to see if I can minimise this cost when I fly out to Europe tomorrow, hopefully I've got the stronger fighting stamina at 4am in Wellington Airport.

I'm stopping in Korea on the way in to visit a fella about his rockets and see if I can't get him to park the pointy end of those things somewhere safe. After that's sorted I'll be touching down in Frankfurt briefly before heading down to Banyoles to see what racing over there is all about.

The last couple of days I've taken the opportunity to catch up with Mum and Dad and everything else Feilding has to offer, which is far to much to fit into a few days! Yesterday though, I almost fell off my bike when I came across quite the sight on the outskirts of town. Have a go at this!

The other key point I need to share with you is a term I coined a while back which came knocking today. Now, before you turn your nose up, take a moment to be honest with yourself, because chances are, if you've done more than the odd run, you've experienced 'sobing'... Today mid run my guts did a grumble and within a few short strides I realised I had a Shit-On-Board. The rest of my run would be spent in a tentative jog 'sobing' along, willing the porcelain office closer. Surely I'm not the only one who's experienced this annoying discomfort where the hardest working muscle is nothing to do with your forward progress that is running.

Glad to have that off my chest I should now really get to bed. I'm up at 3am for a quick jog before gearing up for battle with the check-in desk at the airport. Up at 3am?! Yes it's nuts but it's for more than just fun, I'll fill you in on that in the next episode.

Keep being awesome.

Nug

Oceania Champs

There's nothing quite like racing in your home town and seeing as Friendly Feilding will never play host to a triathlon, Wellington is home town racing for me. Having had possibly the best spell of weather in the wet and windy city since ages ago; I was sure the capital would return to it's former self come race day, but it was not to be. We had a slight southerly and overcast conditions, nothing on what it could have been.

At 11:45am we stood on the start pontoon looking out on a millpond. Into the starters hands.... and we were away! Still not keen to get my freshly healed tit into too much biffo, I dealt with the riff-raff a bit like a girl and was getting bullied backwards through the first 100m before manning up and moving forward through a few guys. Once around the first can I could see I was just off a breakaway bunch and had to put my foot down to get across to it. In the water is just like jumping across a gap on the bike, just go hard and fast and recover once you get there, which is what I did. Plus, by going fast you're much less likely to drag people with you. Swimming in a breakaway bunch compared to the masses is bliss, so I was happy to nestle in and wait to hit Waitangi Park where it'd be all on again.

I spent a good 10 seconds trying to do my helmet up, which in transition time feels like 10 minutes. Luckily it didn't cost me and I was on the bike and safely in the front bunch. We had about 8 of us, which means there's enough of us to just look at each other until we get caught, or the perfect amount to work together and stay away. All but one of the Aussies were there to ride and Kiwi's tend not to shy away from honest work so we were into a good roll and going well. The gap to the second bunch wasn't much, but it wasn't really changing. A few attacks went in to soften the legs up but nothing of any significance. I was trying to ride smart and not work any harder than I needed to, which tends to be the opposite of how I like to ride. Tim had found this out in a race a while ago so I was now rationed to one attack and one attack only. I felt good so thought I'd have a dig with a lap to go in case we got caught by the second bunch, and to see if I could smuggle some easy time up my sleeve. Once off the front I dangled there waiting for someone to join and it didn't take long before Ryan Bailie and I were working well together and stealing time. I think the national coach almost fell over his whiteboard when he saw us come past off the front - it's taken me a while to learn how to ride a bike.

Another ho-hum transition before getting the running legs going. Crikey, I felt pretty good! I tried to keep a lid on it while I started to wonder - was this the day it was going to come together for me? I was sitting just off Ryan when I came past the coach who simply said "on his shoulder" and like Flash Gordon I seemed to be there with ease. A couple of kms into the run we were caught by the front runners from our old bunch and we both tagged on to their freight train. It was about here my guts opted out and I got some horrible stomach cramps which made it an 8km battle. Going backwards on the run for no good reason is not something I've experienced before and not something I'm keen to do again. I hated it. Running past family and friends while guys ran through me was rubbing salt to my already sore guts. From having a great race I faded to 5th New Zealander and 13th overall. What could have been...

Just like Ripcurl says, the search continues.

Nugget.

PS Thanks for the hometown support.

Takapuna Contact Tri

With the sour taste of missing Geelong still ripe in my mouth, I jumped on the bird to Auckland for a grudge match. I wanted three things out of the race; number one was amending last year's blunder of tearing off on a extra lap on the bike; two was to test the tit out in a short sharp swim; three to just let off some steam!

Taka treated us to a rip snort of a day and my tired body was quietly fizzing for a tester.
I was off to a tentative swim start, then put the gas on and managed to swim the long, but less messy, way around to the front guys where as I just started to get into my stroke, the beach came up to meet us. The 500m swim must be measured on the king high tide and we were right on the bottom of it, not to worry I'd survived and ticked off one of my key processes.

After seeing my heart jumping out my throat coming up that nasty hill to transition we were on our bikes and away. I'd talked to Tim, (the coach), and we'd agree I'd work hard from go if there was the chance of a break, which there was and a group of us made the most of it. It is amazing how fast you go, with relatively little effort, when in a small bunch with everyone organised and working. And that was the that for bike ride. No real attacks were thrown out there, although a Korean rode away for a small gap towards the end, which I think none of us actually realised, I definitely knew nothing of it.

A good T2 and I had my legs running for their life - another thing Tim had said, take it out hard. So was me and the Frenchman Moulai forcing the pace through the first kilometre. It was about then my legs sent an urgent memo to my brain asking wtf I was going on.I had done bugger all running, let alone anything at that pace, since Kinloch and 1km was about as far as I could fake it. I tried to hang tough but about halfway through I did a silly thing and started thinking backwards. Four of us had broken clear, but I couldn't sustain the pace - how far behind was fifth? What if I pushed to hold on and then exploded and got run through? Two questions that shouldn't have crossed my mind. I was in defence mode and watched the front three run away, only to see one drop off just up the road - if only I'd been 'just up the road'...

I ended up coming in comfortably in fourth and even stopped to lap up the outstanding atmosphere Takapuna streets put on for us - it really is an awesome place to race, possibly my favourite so far.

Lesson learnt - hang on as long as you can, then hang on some more.

Until next time,
Nugget.