Two races, two hemispheres, one week and a shoulder on the mend
So, it’s been a long time since I wrote my last blog, ‘This
is where the journey ends’ (
After completion of my Ironman 70.3 World Championships race on the Australian Sunshine Coast, last September, I returned to my hotel that afternoon and disassembled my bike. I packed all my belongings into my suitcase and grabbed a few hours sleep before the early start on the 5th September. I had booked a flight out of Brisbane and across to Perth, where I’d be staying with my close friend Ross Davis, and his family, before my return to the UK on the 8th September. Ross, being so well-organised, had crammed plenty of things for us to do in the 3 days I had with him in Perth.
On that Thursday, at a ridiculous time in the morning, I boarded the aeroplane at Perth Airport and prepared myself for the long journey ahead, flying back to the UK. Having had two very peaceful, relaxed flights I arrived back in the UK late that evening to be greeted by my family.
On the Friday morning I was woken early by my family who
were excited. Feeling a little dazed, blurry eyed and very fatigued I was
presented with a pile of cards and presents; it was my birthday! The
celebrations didn’t last too long as they were off to school. I spent the
remainder of my birthday washing clothes, reassembling my bike and preparing
for my trip to Weymouth where I’d be competing in my 2nd 70.3
Ironman event in a week.
Saturday morning arrived in a blink of an eye. My car was packed and I took on the long solo journey down to Weymouth. The weather was beautiful that day - if a little chilly. I remember arriving in Weymouth and thinking: ‘What am I doing?’ Not only had I just raced in a massive event out in Australia, I was still trying to recover from the jet lag. I just mumbled to myself, I’m tough, it’s no different to working the night shifts I’m so used to, just get on with it! So I did. I found the transition tent, set up my bike and clothing, then began preparing myself for the early start on the Sunday morning.
Sunday morning, race day! Although I was awake before
sunrise you could tell that it was going to be a very beautiful, warm day. I
was lucky enough to see the sunrise over the ocean. I took a moment to reflect
on my achievements during the past week.
The race went well (there was no pressure for me to achieve goals).
The swim went as I expected, a little slower than my swim in Australia, but
then again, the water was much choppier. I was still in the first group of
swimmers to exit into T1 – the 8th athlete across the timing mat.
The bike leg was tough. I remember thinking how much steeper the course was
compared to the race the week before, or perhaps it was just the fatigue in my
legs, but still it was enjoyable. The scenery was amazing! My run was so easy,
I felt that the course was suited to me. It was fast and flat and the
atmosphere was uplifting, thanks to the cheering and support from the crowds.
I remember seeing the finish line and thinking what could I do along the final few metres to acknowledge my achievement of racing in two 70.3 races, each in a different hemisphere, within a week. As I entered the final straight and ran along the red carpet to the finish line, Paul Kaye - the commentator - announced to the crowds that I had just returned from the 70.3 Ironman World Championships. He actually highlighted that this was my second 70.3 in a week. I finished 8th in my age group and 36th overall.
What next?
October. I was back in the pool and racing in the Master Nationals Swimming Championships at Ponds Forge, Sheffield. Being my favourite pool in the UK, I have spent many years racing there and created many fond memories and some very fast record-breaking swims.
November- and back to Burntwood, Cannock for the second year, where I was competing in a local aquathlon; one which attracts some very quick GB athletes. Another great result for me, finishing 2nd overall.
So, back to the recent operation. In 2014, whilst out training on my road bike I was unfortunate to have been involved in an accident. I hit a pot hole whilst travelling along the road. I was thrown from my bike and landed on my left shoulder. Unknown to me at the time, I had broken my left clavicle in numerous places.
I spent seven months off work trying to recover from the
surgery. The surgeon had to rebuild my left clavicle with lots of nuts, bolts
and metal plates. But to make matters worse he said to me, “You’ll have to be
prepared that you will never compete at the level you were once use to.”
Having competed throughout 2015 and 2016 I was very aware of the metal work in my shoulder and still felt pain on many occasions. I knew there would come a time when I must do something about it. So, in December 2016 I visited my GP and discussed with him what my options were regarding the removal of my plates. He referred me to a specialist where I underwent further examinations. It was agreed that the removal of the plates would be the best and only solution.
I left hospital feeling positive as I knew I would soon be free from the recurring pain. My positivity however was short lived at the realisation that I was going to be out of action for some time. How would recovery after surgery affect my training and racing? How would I compete in the Splash & Dash Aquathlon in December? Or even worse, what if the operation didn’t go ahead in December? What if this operation doesn’t take place until March, April or May?!
Having moved up to the 40-44 age group this year I felt I could make a massive improvement on my rankings from 2016. I knew if the operation wasn’t scheduled in January or February then I’d have to postpone it for another 12 months. I just couldn’t take the risk of being out of action for scheduled events.
It was an anxious wait for the surgery date. As luck would have it my operation was scheduled for the day after the Stourbridge Stagger. This meant I could get one more race in.
As I ran the Stagger many thoughts passed through my mind;
running has a way of giving you the head-space to think! Worries about my
impending operation…Would I wake up from the anaesthetic?! Would the surgeon be
able to remove all of the metalwork? How bad would the pain be after the
operation? All of these thoughts left me wondering whether it was worth putting
myself through the operation. Most importantly, when would I be able to compete
again, assuming there would be a next time!
Incredibly, the worry that I hadn’t foreseen was the nurse thinking that I might not be well enough to proceed with the operation when my heart rate was checked in the pre-operative assessment. She went very quiet before looking from the screen up to me and asking, ‘is your heart rate usually that low?’ I reassured her that all was well as it was usually lower!
So I was OK to proceed with the operation. One minute I’m talking about cycling with the hairy, male anaesthetist and the next thing I’m aware of two attractive female nurses at my bedside. Either the operation had gone horribly wrong and I was in heaven or everything had gone well and I was waking up from the anaesthetic.
It has now been four days since the surgeon
successfully removed approximately 10 metal parts from my clavicle. Much to my
son’s disgust I wasn’t able to bring the parts home! I rested on day 1. Day 2 I
was biking around Bilbao, Spain (on the turbo in the garage!) The hardest part
of recovery for me is not being able to swim and run until the stiches have
healed. I’ve had to withdraw from races 2 and 3 of the Tewkesbury Aquathlon but
I’ve set my sights on being recovered in time for race number 4. It is so important to have a focus.
