Two weeks out from the Age Group World Multisport Championships, and I find myself in a situation I never imagined. Last year at this time, I was 8 weeks into a solid training program, on track and feeling great, albeit sick of the training. This year? Let’s just say things went to shit.
It all started with what should have been a routine hernia operation. Perfectly timed after the rowing season, it was supposed to allow for a quick recovery and a strong 12-week training program. Instead, it turned into a nightmare of internal bleeding, an extended hospital stay, and massive blood loss. The aftermath? Severe anemia that left me breathless just walking to the bathroom.
But wait, there’s more! Just as I started to recover, COVID decided to pay a visit. While not as brutal as my first bout, it still set me back. And just when I thought I was in the clear, the dreaded man flu struck with a vengeance.
As if that wasn’t enough, remember that hip replacement I had three years ago? Well, the doctor’s warning about my other hip being a “time bomb” turned out to be prophetic. It’s now reduced me to a limping mess, barely able to manage light treadmill sessions at a pace that’s miles away from where I need to be, only a lazy 3 mins per km off the pace.
The numbers paint a grim picture. My max heart rate plummeted from 216 to 168. My VO2 max sank from 54 to 47. My red blood cell count took a nosedive (143 to 83) before slowly climbing back up, but still well back of my normal. In short, my body feels like it’s betrayed me.
On top of all of this i always like to control my weight in a lead up to important races, but with all the sickness the last thing I could do was spare my body of food, and that actually messes with my head. Although, luckily I haven’t put that much on at all.
So, where does this leave me? Not racing isn’t an option – I may not get this chance again. But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t embarrassed. Putting on that green and gold race kit is going to feel strange, almost like I’m an imposter.
But then I remember what our Australian team manager, Alex Fehon, told me last year in Spain when I expressed my anxiety about embarrassing myself: “You won’t. There’s always people coming back from injury or illness.” Well, this year, that person is me.
Will I come last? Maybe. But someone has to, and at this level, there’s no shame in it. It’s not something I’m comfortable with, but it’s out of my control.
The hardest part is accepting that I am worthy, that I’m not an imposter in that fancy green and gold triathlon kit. It’s a struggle to believe it when I’m in constant pain and unable to perform at my best. And all I’ve ever wanted to do is my best!
In two weeks, I’ll be in Townsville, giving it everything I’ve got. It may not be pretty, it may not be fast, but it’ll be honest. Because sometimes, being worthy isn’t about being the best – it’s about showing up and doing your best with what you’ve got.
Lets see how this story unfolds. Whatever happens.
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