Professional athlete and 3-time Ironman champion

From The Land Down Under


They are the dreaded words I loathe to hear.

“Deeds.  Day off tomorrow.”

Why do I hate these words so much?  Smyers says I need to embrace the rest day as a reward for all my hard work.  My rational head knows she’s right, and knows Siri’s right for pulling the plug on me.  But still, the “if some is good, more is better” mentality that permeates the minds of most long distance triathletes takes over.  Doubt creeps in.  “Have I done enough?”  “Will I be ready for my race?”  “Will I get out of shape?” (as if that’s even possible in a 24 hour window….I didn’t say the irrational head was logical….if it were, I’d wouldn’t be called the irrational head!). 

Plus?  Practically speaking, rest days are boring. 

But in the end, I’ve decided to turn my brain off, and follow rule #1 of coach/athlete relationships:


So a rest day is a good day to blog, as I haven’t do much of that since I’ve been here.

In part, I blame Coachie for that.  We’ve been far to busy with training to blog.  The other part is that my computer got a little homesick and took 2 weeks off work.  Had to be sent for some TLC for “3 day turn-around” service, that turned into a 2 week AWOL.

But we’re back in time for rest day blog!

Many were envious of my trip to Australia.  “How exotic.”  Right?  I suppose when home looks like this, I can understand that line of thinking. 



However, life here is simple, if not monotonous and dare I say….boring?.  Train, eat, train, sleep, eat, train, eat sleep.  The glorious life of a triathlete.  I shan’t bore you with the details, but pretty much here’s what we do all day:












Yes, that last image is, indeed, a grass track.  Pretty cool!

We’ve had some weather that’s been good:


And some weather that’s been bad:



We do make time for some laughs every now and again.


big feet



Don’t be fooled by that second photo.  I was just laughing at the set Siri had just outlined.  I tend to laugh in awkward situations.  Right after this shot was taken, I put my goggles on, cried in them a little and pretty much swam 4K all out on what Coachie calls “cruisey intervals”.

On our “down time”, we’ve honed our hunting skills.  We have an extra roommate here in Noosa, who Kevin decided to name Frank.  Generally speaking, I think it’s a bad idea to name things you intend to kill.  Like cattle farmers shouldn’t name their stock before sending them off to become hamburger meat.  It seems unnecessarily cruel. 

In case, this is a photo of Frank “before”:


Note; that is not my hand.  That is the hand of some crazy person who posted a photo of one of Frank’s relatives on Google. 

This is Frank after Bully (that’s my good pal Michelle Bremer) and I honed our hunting skills.


We tried to asphyxiate Frank with some Raid ant killer.  Turns out, it takes a lot of ant killer to even maim a spider that big. 

Long story short, Kevin went to check on Frank some hours later and the little bugger tried to get away.  His escape attempts were met with the heal of Kevin’s rather large size ??? yellow shoes Keatsy is wearing in the photo above. 

Buh-bye Frank.  Don’t come around here no more!

So that’s it from Australia.  More soon!

Persistence. Determination. Love. The Journey!

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