Just before the swim start with my family: Millie (left), Poppi (centre), and Courtney (right)

I’ve wanted to talk about ‘healthy aging’ for a while. A lot of the ‘injuries’ I see in clinic are related to ‘aging athletes’ or deconditioning. Although we are living longer, we are not aging less. And this process occurs earlier than a lot of people appreciate. We do not suddenly wake up one morning with grey hair and a walking stick. We do not suddenly go from 30 to 65 years of age and feel old. Aging is a process. And this process starts from our late 20s (if not younger). If you develop an ‘injury’ without a clear mechanism or significant trauma, you may be presenting with a symptom of the aging process. To elaborate, we reach our peak bone density in our early 20s. We start losing muscle strength and muscle fibre size from our late 20s (i.e. age-related sarcopenia). The capacity of our joints to absorb and dissipate load reduces from our 30s. Our aerobic capacity declines by about 1% a year from the age of 30 i.e. 10% per decade from 30. Ask yourself, how many All Blacks compete at a high level from 35 years? When I completed my first Ironman aged 24, I was in my physical prime. My lifestyle was also more conducive for this arguably selfish exercise pursuit. I had more time to train and more time to recover. Why is it then, that the majority of Ironman triathlete participants (not winners) are between 35 and 44 years of age when they are well past their physical prime? Social reasons aside, there are two main factors from a Sport and Exercise Physician perspective. The first is that we have the ability in endurance sports to exercise at a submaximal level for a prolonged period of time. For example, we can maintain a pace at 60-80% of our VO2 max and still do quite well in endurance events until our 60s. And the second is, with age, we have banked more ‘mental resilience’ (or tolerance to suffer) through our life experiences. Therefore, although I may not be physically stronger at 37. To compensate, I have become mentally stronger. The key message I wish to get across is that if you continue to exercise from 30 years of age, you can slow down the aging process! Those who continue to exercise can minimise their aerobic capacity decline to 0.5% per year or 5% per decade (i.e. compared to 1% per year or 10% per decade in non exercisers). Those who continue to resistance train can maintain their muscle strength to better support their joints. Those who continue to do flexibility/recovery sessions can maintain musculotendinous compliance to better absorb load through their joints. For those over 30 years of age, it is not ok to exercise less with each passing decade. If you are sedentary between the ages of 30 and 60, then expect to accumulate a weakness debt and the side effects of normal age related deconditioning. Be prepared to incur an ‘injury’ with the same day to day activities that would’ve never troubled you in your 20s. Exercise needs to be challenging with an element of difficulty. Because when exercise is no longer hard, invariably, ‘life’ becomes hard. Conversely, if you are still exercising intensely in your 40s or playing a ‘high demand sport’ (i.e. any collision or change of direction sport), be prepared to put in the hard yards. You must commit to dedicated aerobic, resistance, flexibility, balance, and recovery sessions in order to condition your body to handle the rigours of your sport. You need to tick all the right boxes and maintain a healthy weight. Your conditioning needs to be superb if you want to keep playing any high demand sport. You can’t afford to be mediocre. Or else, (no surprises here folks), you’ll get ‘injured’. There’s a difference between aging and healthy aging. The choice is yours.

Swim completed and heading towards the bike transition area

The weather gods are kind today and Lake Taupo is relatively flat with minimal chop. I’m not that keen for a fight this early in the morning so I keep my ego in check and start towards the back of the pack. Away from all the carnage up front, I establish a good breathing rhythm and ease into my work. The sunrise, sandy lake floor, golf balls, and lake weed are a refreshing break from the ‘black line’ of the swimming pool. The swim is my weakest discipline so I’m happy to complete the 3.8km swim in 1hr and 25 mins. It’s all a blur of spectators and a commotion of noise as I come out of the water and head towards bike transition in preparation for the gruelling 180km bike ride. Although the bike is my least favourite discipline, I attempted to adopt a gratitude mindset this year. I was thankful for the overcast conditions and light winds which made for favourable biking conditions. I was thankful to be in the moment and to literally have hours to myself away from the demands of parenting. At the same time, I was also determined to push hard as I wanted to finish before my four year old daughter went to bed and bizarrely, resume parenting (or contribute anyway). The parenting guilt seemed to motivate me and I managed to maintain a good pace throughout only stopping at halfway for an ice cold Powerade and two mince savouries. Unbeknown at the time, I had biked my fastest ever Ironman bike split at just over 6hrs 20 mins. Now that the hard part was finished, I was just left with the marathon…

Heading out of Taupo on the bike

Although I have a reasonably strong running background, the marathon part of the Ironman is one of the hardest marathons you could ever run. Being a runner at heart, I try limit my walking but the temptation to walk is great. In no other event in my experience is the compulsion to stop running as high as it is during an Ironman marathon. The next 42.2km is an absorbing battle between the willingness to move and the compulsion to stop. This struggle of wills is a life changing experience (in retrospect) and is probably one of the main reasons people like myself willingly come back year after year. I leave the run transition well lubricated and with the knowledge that I just need to maintain an honest pace to achieve a personal best time. The first lap (of three) of the marathon course is always the hardest. This is usually due to a combination of 180km of bike fatigue, heat, and being passed by other faster runners on their final lap home. With a PB on the line, I know I need to mentally hold it all together and keep pushing until sunset. As the sun sets, the air begins to cool and running becomes a bit more tolerable. Willed on by my family and many, many, complete strangers, I approach the finish line a touch over 9pm and just under a 5hr marathon time. Heading down the finisher’s chute, I spot my four year old, Millie, who is still awake and waiting for me. I resume parenting and she joins me for the last 100m. We finish together laughing hand in hand. I manage to achieve a PB of 13 hours and 11 mins but the greater satisfaction is having trained and finished an Ironman as a father. My last personal best was in 2009 when I was 26 years of age so you really can wind back the years (even as a parent)! An Ironman is not about how fast you can go, but more about, the less you slow down. Sounds a bit like life doesn’t it? Aim for healthy aging. Aim to exercise deep into your living years. Running is medicine. Join me at my next blog, the Mt Oxford Mountain Marathon in April (Coronavirus pending).

Heading down the finisher’s chute with Millie

Finished up with the swim

As the starting canon goes off, I’m aware that we’re lucky enough to have perfect swim conditions. Lake Taupo is flat and there’s no hint of wind. I’ve been told that witnessing an Ironman swim start is one of the most spectacular things you can see in sport. However, witnessing and experiencing are on different ends of the spectrum. The once still and flat water becomes chaotic. It’s like being churned up in one big washing machine as you struggle to breathe. Your main focus is to establish rhythm and control your breathing as quick as possible. If you can avoid eating someone’s foot for breakfast and don’t get a leak in your goggles (or get your goggles completely kicked off), then you are doing well. Once you’ve established your rhythm, then it’s a matter of jostling for space until eventually the field begins to spread out. The Taupo Ironman is advantageous in that you can see the bottom of the lake the whole time you’re swimming. This is reassuring for nervous swimmers like myself. I establish a 5/3 breath rhythm and eventually relax into my swim. I’m lucky enough to see the sun rise through the air bubbles under the water. It’s a beautiful sight.

Leaving Lake Taupo and heading out towards Reporoa

The 3.8km swim (or “warm up” as someone once described it to me) goes by quite quickly. The transition from the swim to the bike becomes the next challenge. It takes a bit of adjusting to being vertical and weight bearing again. Coming out of your tight wet suit and squeezing into your lycra can also be ungainly (though I imagine it would make for amusing viewing if you’re a volunteer!) If I were to be honest, the 180km bike ride is my least favourite discipline of the Ironman. The no drafting rule also means that interaction with other competitors is minimal. Coming out of transition, you often get an ‘enjoy the rest of your day’ comment. After a few years of doing Ironman, I’ve come to realise that this is a very truthful and literal statement. Over the next 6-8 hours, you spend the good majority of your day interacting and building a relationship with your bike. Your bike becomes your drink bar, lunch/dinner table, and for those wishing to shave a few seconds off their total time, it becomes their toilet as well. I push a bit harder on the bike this year in a bid to make up some time. After years of “saving my legs” on the bike, I’ve come to realise that this is futile. After 180km, your legs never feel “fresh” off the bike. Whether you take things easy or push hard, your legs will always feel like jelly when you start running. The reality is that you will make up more distance/time on a bike compared to any similar level of effort whilst running. Concentrate on biking strong!

On the run. The transition from day to night.

By the time I get to the run course around 3.30pm, I’ve finally reached by favourite and most comfortable part of the Ironman. Competitors begin to engage with each other again. You can feel their pain and sympathise with their struggles. The heart beat and struggle is palpable. Hope and belief is freely interchangeable. The town comes to life and the volunteers are amazing. The atmosphere is incredible! Despite this, the reality of exercising for almost 9 hours catches up with me and I hit a small wall. The marathon is a three lap course so those runners on their last lap are getting another wind and surging past me towards the finish. As much as I console myself that this is normal, it is psychologically damaging being passed by lots of people looking a lot fresher than you. Confidence and a little bit of ego provide some energy in marathon running. I throw caution to the wind and decide to be brave and accelerate from the end of my 1st lap. I seek out other runners who are wearing pink bands (symbolising they are on their 2nd lap and well ahead of me) and make an effort to restore some confidence and gain momentum. The extra incentive of seeing my kids before they get to bed also quickens my stride. From this point, everything leading up to the finish line becomes a blur of noise, emotion, and struggle. I finish around 8.30pm, 13 hours and 27 minutes later. I can never seem to finish before night but thankfully my 3.5 year old daughter is still awake at the finish line. I love seeing my family at the end of an Ironman. It makes it all worthwhile. If you have the courage to start, the strength to persevere, and the belief to finish, I sincerely believe than anyone can complete an Ironman. It truly is an incredible feeling! Running is medicine. Join me at my next blog, the South Island Ultramarathon (54km) at the West Coast in May (I hope it doesn’t rain…)

Couldn’t quite finish before Poppi’s bedtime but I did manage to finish before Millie’s

The strong NZ contingent at the inaugural Alps 2 Ocean Ultra

Small town NZ has its own special charm. This was evident from the moment we arrived in Oamaru. The pre race brief was held at the Oamaru Opera House with a special welcome from the mayor. The speech from the race director was straight from the heart. The event was born out of a desire to show case NZ and cater for all runners from the elite to the back of the pack runners (BOP). Cut off times were generous and there was a genuine desire for as many runners to finish as possible. Any profits raised from the event would also go back to the local community. You could really sense that this run was motivated by the heart and not the wallet. After race registration, we were then taken by steam train to the pre race dinner at a restaurant overlooking the ocean and resting penguins. For a small town, Oamaru had big charm. It would make for a welcome finish in 7 days and over 300km later.

Boarding the steam train to the pre race dinner

The bus trip from Oamaru to the start line was along a scenic route through Kurow, Lake Tekapo and eventually Aoraki / Mount Cook. On arrival, we were given the opportunity to view NZ’s largest glacier, the Tasman Glacier. Floating icebergs on the expanding glacial lake were a tangible reminder of its rapid retreat. We then settled into our camp site for the night with the Southern Alps and Mount Cook as our back drop. The summit’s knife edged ridge pierced the clouds and glinted in the sun light. Under the setting sun, blue sky, and puffy white clouds, we enjoyed a traditional Kiwi BBQ. Surrounded by mountains freshly dusted with snow, the view was simply breath taking. Mesmerising and captivating. It felt surreal. You couldn’t help but be in awe of the beauty around you.

Our first camp site nestled below Mount Cook

On the morning of the Sabbath underneath Mount Cook, a religion of runners set off in the inaugural Alps 2 Ocean Ultra. East towards the sun. Seeking the ocean. The Alps 2 Ocean was an opportunity to show case NZ and the event delivered on its promise. Running next to and along mountains. Through pine forest and around rocky shores. Along and through rivers. Next to sparkling lakes of varying shades of blue. Going up hills, you would be enclosed by native bush. Lost to the world and lost in yourself. The long day (86.6km) is mainly up mountains and through farm lands with a detour to the Clay Cliffs (formed by the flow of ancient glaciers over a million years). Crossing more rivers either by foot or water raft. The terrain is diverse and amazing. The views from the top of mountains, humbling. A reminder that we truly live in a wonderful world. The event had its own NZ quirks. The run through an old woolshed was a flash back in time and provided international runners with a memento of what a hair dresser for hundreds of sheep smells like. The event also had its own unexpected adrenaline rushes. The helicopter ride (surrounded by mountains) to cross a river 6km into the race was a surprise. However, the jet boat ride along the Waitaki River was a personal highlight. Exhaustion was quickly replaced by pure adrenaline as we sped along the river. Smiles from ear to ear and joyful laughter filled that short river section. The Alps 2 Ocean Ultra Adventure Race – adventure guaranteed!

Leaving the mountains and heading east towards the ocean

For a whole week, life was simple. Lubricate, run, eat, sleep. Lubricate, run, eat, sleep. This became the norm. In a shared tent with up to eight runners, any variation from the above order was fraught with danger. Those who failed to lubricate, risked being outcast! If staged running is about meeting people, then ultra runners are a different breed. Taking the road less travelled tends to change your perspective of life. You learn to sweat the run but not the small stuff. Ultra runners in general are nice people. Ordinary in ability but extraordinary in belief. Optimistic but realistic. Acceptive of the idea that hard work and persistence are the ingredients of success, but do not always guarantee success. Better people make better runners. Innuendo of ultra runners being masochist weirdos who gather together for mass orgies continue to be unverified (alternatively, I am never invited). During stage races, bonds with other runners can be formed quickly and tend to last longer. This would not usually happen in a normal work environment. As a group, you share each other’s pain, doubts, suffering, failures, happiness, and joy. Running creates connections. Adversity over 300km and 7 days strengthens these connections. Seeing others endure, you cannot help but be inspired. Long distance running has become the ultimate modern day expression of freedom and courage. The longer you run, the brighter the human spirit shines.

Started with 7 in our tent and ended with 5 (left to right): Myself, Alexandre Lucas (France), Dr Isobella Henzell (Australia), Vincent Coureur (France), & Kate Sanderson (Australia)

Running along lakes, through valleys and vine yards, I am happy. The event continued to charm with unexpected salmon bites, ice cream treats, and wine & cheese tasting. By now, running is the new norm and I am in the flow. The scenery is constantly changing and the course takes another diversion to the Elephant Rocks (lime stone outcrops resembling elephants). Eventually, you run out of lakes to run along. Sheep and cattle are replaced by people. Buildings replace mountains. Gravel trail is substituted by concrete path. You sense the run is coming to a close. As I run through a neighbourhood of old Victorian buildings, I approach the finish line. I hear my applauding fellow athletes. I see the ocean. I see the finish line. Sun burnt, hungry, blistered, chaffed, sweaty, and of a strong and unpleasant smell, I cross the finish line. But I am happy. Really happy. Quietly satisfied and untroubled. Content and comfortable in my own skin. Just happy.

Medicine for the soul

In life, no one really teaches you how to be happy. Happiness is not about having a flash car or house. It is not obtained by going to university and acquiring a medical degree. It is not about getting a good job and securing status and money. Happiness is about finding your passion! Running in the beauty of the outdoors is my passion. When I am running, I am happy. During Alps 2 Ocean, I was living my passion! Find your passion. Find your medicine. Thanks to the Alps 2 Ocean team for the great memories. Running is medicine. Join me at my next blog, Arrowsmith Marathon. Another favourite run of mine.

Crossing the finish line 7 days and over 300km later with good friend Dr Andrew Stanley

Race Summary

Day 1 – Stage 1 & 2 (53.85km) 07:11

Day 2 – Stage 3 (51.34km) 06:44

Day 3 & 4 – Stage 4 (86.6km) 14:00

Day 5 – Stage 5 (44.8km) 06:45

Day 6 – Stage 6 (53km) 06:30

Day 7 – Stage 7 (28.67km) 02:51

Running total 44hr:01min

Just passing through