Blood, sweat and.... blisters

Everyone knows we're softies at heart (we're not ironmen and women yet!). So it must follow that our bodies need a bit of toughening up. 

Well we're working on the latter, but you'll see from these pics that the former's still true.

This is the bit where we chronicle the things that happen to our bodies. Well, the things that we can show on the internet. Trust us, you don't want to see what happens after a long run or day on the bike!

Simi's mid-swim complaints of "My wetsuit's rubbing on my neck" were rewarded with a take-home prize. Ewwww!

Simi's toe pointing out the chipped fingernail.

Bluebottle? Jellyfish? Giant Squid? Great White?
Who knows - they're all our friends in the open water swims!



We got quite used to soft sand running along Bondi Beach, so I didn't realise that Manly's sand wouldn't be so kind. Blisters on every toe.



I hate you Manly!

Random toe kicking up a fuss.



This is really stupid. Yes it's triathlon related but only just. We had just finished the Port Macquarie Half Ironman (Oct 2010) so we were stuffed. We walked our bikes and gear back to the apartment and somehow I stubbed my toe on the bike tyre. Then.... when packing the bike into its box I dropped the box onto my toe. Then..... checking in at the airport I happened to drag the whole kit across my toe.

Long run. Easy fixed. (Feet up).

Outta here!


The big question:

What does a pygmy whale have to do with a triathlon?

Not much, I hear you ponder. Imagine a cold, windy and bleak day at the beach (Brighton). You want for nothing else except to curl up in bed with a good book - only your training schedule reminds you that you need to do an ocean swim. Bugger.

You put your wetsuit on ( we need to train with it because it's compulsory at NZ) and wander to the beach, scanning the surf to try and find a reason not to go in. Then we spotted a crowd by the water. Wandering over, we find that a pygmy whale was being rescued after washing itself up to shore. The rescuers looked at us with pleading eyes, we being the only ones suitably attired for the chilly conditions (apart from the whale, sorry Moby).

We jumped in and relieved the crew. Then when the zoo vet came they decided poor Moby had had enough of thrashing himself against the rocks so we lifted him into the van where I had to hold his tail down while they tried in vain to find a vein to euthanase him. In the syringe went, until Moby thought he'd had enough of that too so he thrashed about and I ended up with the same syringe in my finger. The vet said "oh, you'll need some antibiotics for Seal Finger."

We didn't wait for an explanation - nothing more could surprise us that morning.



"Seal Finger" from Moby the Pygmy whale