Build Up
The build up to this race had been somewhat turbulent. Last November, in the first bike ride after our qualifying race at Longleat in the UK, Keeto and I had an impressive wipe-out on our bikes going round an icy corner at 40k’s per hour. Keeto hit the ground hard and was pretty banged up with road-rash and bone bruises. Instead of landing on Keeto to break my fall, I opted for the softer option and face planted into the sidewalk.

I cracked my thumb bone and tore some tendons in my hand which resulted in me going to a doctor, having them put a needle in the tendon, resulting in a vasovagal attack (like a mild epileptic fit) and losing consciousness. After being revived I promptly threw up in the doctor’s rooms, then went home and slept for a day. Bad start to the season.

The cast on my hand meant no cycling, only running and swimming. The increase in my running resulted in an inflamed Achilles tendon which resulted in me going to a doctor, having them put a needle in the tendon, resulting in a vasovagal attack (like a mild epileptic fit) and losing consciousness. After being revived I promptly threw up in the doctor’s rooms, then went home and slept for a day. Bad thing to happen mid-season.

My inflamed tendon meant no running, only cycling and swimming. A few weeks before Clearwater I was side swiped by a van while cycling, which resulted in a few bruises, a broken bike seat, a temperamental iPod and more disappointingly a dented mojo. Bad thing to happen before a big race.

The J-Factor
However, it proved to be a great year with the arrival of Jake. Never underestimate the focus and power triggered by the birth of a father’s son. Jake too would be a big part of the race. A stomach bug he had been subjected to at one of his playgroups resulted in vomiting bouts on the Sunday before the race. The bug was subsequently passed on to Blur, Keeto and me, and to our entire support entourage heading to the US. The flight over was eventful if only for the lack of sleep, stomach cramping and spewing going on flight BA 2037 to Orlando. We were all Jake-lagged until the morning of the race.

Priorities
The day before the race involved discussions of what to do at the finish line. It was agreed that hooching in multicolour would be inappropriate and that to finish would be a reward in itself. We spoke about the logroll finish, made famous by Jon Blais at the 2005 Hawaii Ironman. Jon aka Blazeman (**) suffers from ALS (amyotrophic lateral sclerosis) also known as Lou Gehrig’s disease. It’s what Professor Stephen Hawking has. Most ALS sufferers last 3 to 5 years. There is no cure.

I spoke to Blazeman and his dad who were recruiting for Team Blazeman. To be a part of the team one had to place an ALS sticker on their kit (mine went prominently onto the water bottle behind my seat) and then do a logroll at the finish line.

The discussion continued into early Friday evening between the guys. At that stage we had agreed that we required a remedy for the sore tummies other than the Imodium and electrolyte pills we had consumed. It was agreed, as all South Africans do when in a fix, to have a pre-race braai. So we got stuck into barbecuing steaks, chicken and - owing to the lack of boerewors at the Walgreens – some chorizo sausage. Washed down with some Bud and pasta salad. Pasta is a good carb prior to a race.

The Swim
Here are my tips for a perfect swim start:

• Always get into the water and flush out any unruly adrenaline you may have surging through your veins.
• Once warmed up get in behind some swimmers faster than yourself either to the far left or right of the start line.
• Always start your watch when they say 30 seconds to race start. You don’t want to get crushed while fiddling with your Timex.
• Once in the water, ahead of all those fiddling with their wrist watches, start veering off course immediately.
• Most don’t follow as they think you’ve lost your mind. You’ll find open water immediately and relax into your own rhythm.
• After 5 minutes of swimming, re-enter the adrenaline-free pack and draft off someone’s feet.

That’s what I did and had a pretty comfortable race. It was an out-and-back swim and aside from returning blind into the sunrise, had a good swim. The aches from the bug had subsided and I was feeling strong. T1 was a blur and I mounted my bike with my shoes already locked into my pedals and headed inland with 33 minutes on my watch.

The Bike
The road was fast under my wheels and I settled into my usual heart rate of between 145 and 150. The only guy I ever recall overtaking was Rudy, a double leg amputee athlete and Olympian. After that things got pretty interesting. To say that a few drafting packs came by me would be like saying a swarm of locusts is really only a gathering of a few close friends. If the United Nations could come together as well as those pelotons, made up from athletes all over the world, World Peace would not be long on the horizon.

I have two things to say about the drafting, firstly, some paid the price with the broken bones from some of the resulting peloton pileups, and secondly, the Blur is reviewing photographic and film evidence of the race and will be conducting a few house calls.

My legs were feeling pretty good and I keyed in 4-bike-lengths behind a British cyclist who appeared to be the only one who hadn’t set his speed dial to “suicidal.”

At just after the half way mark, Keeto pulled up alongside me. I anticipated that he’d been struggling on the course as the 100% Keeto would have overtaken me far earlier on the bike.

And with that Keeto was gone. I saw him a few minutes later in the distance swerving drastically to the right narrowly missing cars in the slow lane as he dry heaved to the side of his aero-bars. A vomiting Keeto is still a fast Keeto.

Even though I averaged a solid 36kph, single athletes were still passing me at about 38 to 40 kph (the winner averaged 43kph). I’d get the occasional chirp, “Something-something Brazil” (my borrowed South African bodysuit looked similar to the Brazilian outfit) and every now again “Team Blazeman”. My ALS sticker on my water bottle was pointing me out to my fellow Team Blazeman members. Free mojo replenishment.

My bike time was a new PB of 2.30 at a heart rate of 147. Gotta love that American tar.

T2
Whenever I’m asked on my CV what my best qualities are, I write “Good in T2”. The transition is often the best part of the race. It’s a great crowd pleaser as there is always the threat of a crash at the dismount line and it’s where you can overtake people who’d you otherwise never have a hope of overtaking on the bike. My T2 split was 3 seconds off Simon Lessing, who took 2nd place overall in the event [applause please]. This is also where I met up with Nige who had cruised past me in the last few miles of the bike. I knew that Nige, who had run the New York Marathon in the previous week, would be hesitant to give his all in this crucial part of the race. T2 ought to be a priority for all athletes. I went for the glory of being the first out of T2 and made my move. Nige, still with that NY-NY gait of his, never knew what hit him.

The Run
The first few minutes of a run is like when Ed Harris swallows liquid air in The Abyss(***). At first, you think you are drowning and are about to die. Then when you don’t die, and once acclimatised you realise that this is all tolerable and it allows you to go to extreme depths, or in the case of a race, something that resembles speed.

I held back until the big climb on the West Campell Courtney Causeway. It was at this hill that I caught up to Keeto who was still struggling with his stomach. Most people would have quit or at least started walking. We ran together for a while without saying much, sometimes words aren’t required. And then Keeto mustered up some strength, “Go get ‘em Goose!” And with that I moved ahead.

At the bottom of the Causeway hill, I took some water and threw back some coke. My heart rate was low and my body was feeling good. That’s when the first shotgun cramp struck my left hamstring, only 10 minutes into the run. The cramp caused me to turn around completely and comically face the runners I had just overtaken. I manoeuvred my body to alleviate the pain and touched my toes in order for the cramp to subside. Keeto pulled up alongside me and offered his assistance. I told him to head on and tried to regain composure. I wasn’t really concerned as to the reasons for the cramp which could be attributed to (1) too fast a pace (2) not enough training (3) tummy troubles (4) too much chorizo. I was more concerned as to what to do.

Priority number one was to stop the cramping. After that I walked back to the aid station and took in some more water and had another coke. Might as well fuel up if I can’t run. I sensed that it would only be a matter of time before The Blur would catch up to me. Unbeknownst to me, he too was cramping (Iceman was being iced) and it’d take him about 30 minutes to get through the first two miles. After a few minutes I started walking, then jogging and slowly gathered up something that looked like rhythm. I was now no longer running at heart rate but just below cramp threshold, which is often a far more realistic measurement of effort.

Keeto and I would continue to play overtake-vomit-overtake-cramp which is often a very pleasant viewing experience for spectators and we made our way around the run course. Spotting The Blur on the other side of the road after the first lap, I realised he looked like I felt. Aside from the handle bar moustache, he looked to be in serious trouble.

Two miles from the finish line I started to pick up the pace and had a peculiar incident. As I ran past one of the loud speakers blasting out music I became enthralled in the lyrics of one of the songs by the Killers. The words “he doesn’t look a thing like Jesus” made me think if Jesus would ever be offended by such lyrics. As I thought it, my other hamstring exploded and I huddled over and spun around to face the runners I had just overtaken. Déjà vu.

I laughed at my timing and tried to ignore the relevance of such an incident. Once again I tried to walk, but any movement where my torso was not 90 degrees to my legs caused the cramp to worsen. “Forget the time, focus on what’s important,” I said to myself knowing that I was within walking distance of a PB. Once again, Keeto pulled up next to me and offered his support. Whereas most people when in the throws of serious physical discomfort might go into selfish survival mode, Keeto was only interested in my well being. They don’t call him Maverick for nothing.

Eventually the cramp released and I made my way passed the cramping Keeto to the finish line. Natalie, who has the loudest and most recognisable supporter’s voice ever, pointed me to where she’d hand over Jake. So in the last 50 metres of the race, I carried Jake to our first father-son race finish. The cherry on the top was that Keeto had made a last ditch effort to catch up the Riccs to celebrate a sub 4.50 half Ironman. My final run time was 1h43m at the low heart rate of 158. We were soon joined by Nige and the Blur at the finish line. The finish line of the inaugural Best of the Best half Ironman racers in all the World. And possibly the entire galaxy.

Click here to see the video of Keeto, Jake and RobbyRicc crossing the finish line (clock says 5.04.30)

Draughting
Since becoming the inaugural Best of The Best world elite … ok you get the picture….well since then, word has hit the triathlon network that some of our team were bust doing the D-word. I now have the photographic evidence to reveal that it is true. Post-race most of our team were found draughting at some time or another. In fact, draughting took place at various places around Florida:

1. Frenchies in Clearwater;
2. the Sand Key Resort after the race;
3. the Ribfest where lots of draughting was witnessed;
4. Disney World;
5. Sea World; and
6. Universal Studios.

And this is to name only a few places. Word is that it may not stop until at least the beginning of the ’07 training season.

Budweiser and Ribs at the St Petersburg Ribfest	The gals	Jake & Donkey look on disapprovingly as dad is caught draughting at Universal Studio

Fear Factor
Plenty of discussions focused on what happened at the race and what we would do next time. It was The Blur‘s race debriefing that kept me in stitches. His applauding the drafting packs and starting fights as they rode past kept me amused. His cramping in certain parts of his body where I didn’t realise one could cramp was a classic. He’s the first guy I’ve heard of who has cramped in his pectoral muscles while running.

But it was his finish line experience that made me smile the most. Heading down the chute he felt that he’d had a tough race with all the cramping on the run and so decided to do the Blazeman logroll. Not realising who the Blazeman is, but knowing that it was worthy cause, he did the logroll bringing attention to the Blazeman’s plight to beat ALS. Now that’s power! Click here to see The Blur recovering (time on clock 5.22) from his finish line log roll.

One would have thought that his holiday would have been soured by his tough race, however not one to settle back and feel sorry for himself, Keith entered the Fear Factor Live show at Universal Studios a few days later. Going up against 20 other contestants, Keith made the last 6 contestants to go head-to-head in the Fear Factor final in front of a couple of thousand people. He fell from the height of a 5-storey building; put his hands a dozen times into a tank infested with electric eels; caught & threw octopi; climbed a building while being pelted with water guns and rubber balls; climbed onto the bonnet of a car suspended 3-storeys up and shot a target with a rocket launcher. I kid you not.

After a nail-biting finish against a Kentucky builder, The Blur became Fear Factor champion! Which goes down as one of the funniest and most impressive feats I have ever witnessed.

2007
So many challenges for 2007. Maybe an Ironman? Or two? But at this stage I’m taking some time off to chill with the family and rekindle the love with Jake and Natalie and my friends. Thanks to Natalie in particular for looking after Jake and me this year; to the real athletes who lent us their suits; to the SAUK gang; and to everyone who kept me buoyant with electronic mojo.

As Keith said to the Fear Factor audience: There’s no "i" in Fear

Merry Christmas,
RobbyRicc

(*) Best of the Best (1989)
Coach Couzo: You've worked very hard. All of you. You've grown, as athletes and individuals. You've learnt a lot. We've ALL learned a lot. A teacher also learns from his students. Today, you have the chance to be the greatest martial artists in the world. It's up to you. If you give everything you've got, EVERYTHING, you'll be winners. That I promise you. You can be - the Best of the Best.

(**) Blazeman video & website:
http://www.tristatetrek.com/ironmanshort.mov (You’ll get goosies at his logroll)
http://alswarriorpoet.com (You’ll get goosies at the Braveheart sound intro)

(***) The Abyss (1989):

Catfish:	How deep?
Monk:	It's classified. Anyway, you breathe liquid so you can't get compressed. The pressure doesn't get you.
Catfish:	You mean you get liquid in your lungs?
Monk:	Oxygenated fluorocarbon emulsion.
Catfish:	Bullshit.
Monk:	Check this out. Can I borrow your rat ?
Catfish:	What are you doin'? Hey, no, no, no. You're gonna kill her !
Monk:	It's okay. I've done this myself. He's gonna be fine. Just going through a normal adjustment period.
Catfish:	No, man. She's gonna drown! Look! She's freakin' out! Does this look normal to you? She's gonna drown !
Monk:	He's taking the fluid into his lungs. There he goes. There's a bit of anxiety here. Now he's starting to relax. He's breathing fine. See his chest moving? He's getting plenty of oxygen.
Catfish:	Ha. Damn rat's breathin' that shit.

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