There is here

It's 4:00 am, I'm getting breakfast, mixing drinks, doing normal final touches before a race. Just one exception, this is the race. This is the culmination of over a years blood sweat and tears. This is what I had been working for all this time. Strangely enough, 4 months ago, I wasn't even sure I'd be here today.

Let's take you back 4 months. End of November, and I am reflecting on the past year. It's been a long hard year as far as training was concerned. I think about the previous year  and remember trying to register for IronmanSA 2014. I recollect how finance was an issue, and when I finally had enough to register for the race, all entries were closed. Looking back, I am so grateful for that, because as it turns out, I was far from ready.

Cue my second blog... The First Race. This eye opener just happened to be a month before IronmanSA 2014. In all honesty, I was under the impression that I would do ok. Time obviously would prove me wrong. But, that was a while back, it was now November, and I really am ready. Financially, I'm not as ready as I would like, but I know there might not be any available entries left. So I take a gamble and lo and behold, there is an opening. I close my eyes and just register, trusting everything will work out in the end... AND MAN DID IT EVER WORK OUT!!!

A month later, ever supportive Stace and my darling sister sponsor a bike... what a machine. Cervelo P3. Until now I could only have dreamed about a bike like this. It was a bit of a mission trying to get used to riding it. Embarrassingly, I managed to fall off, even before clipping my second foot in. So in essence, I had more ground time on it than seat time. But once I had gotten clipped in, It was literally smooth sailing. So fast. So comfortable. Actually much better than I could have imagined.

Everything was going along swimmingly. In no time at all, I was used to the bike, I had been on a few 7 hour rides, followed by 10k bricks. Feeling strong. In fact, I was doing 70.3 distances for practice, finishing them in 6 hours and feeling like I had just had a hard training session. I was feeling confident, I would not get the same lesson as Midlands Ultra.

Fast forward to March 2015. I know I shouldn't be doing it, losing the advantage of climatising and all that, but arrangements were already made, so we go down a week before the race.What a brilliant idea. Not from a race point of view, but for everything else. Being my first one, it was exactly what I needed to get the nerves under control and get used to the route, and do a whole bunch of other stuff. Basically, I used the time to get really comfortable with not only the course, but the idea of the race as well.


Being one of the first age groupers there, I got to hang with pro's and learn more than I could say. Albeit for no reason other than we were the only ones there. My first sea swim was with 2012 AG winner. Met most of the elites on the bike course. Even just running on the beach I bumped into some really impressive athletes.

Meeting all these ladies and gentlemen, I think only fueled my passion and inspired me. Replacing any fear, jitters or nerves with pure excitement. The atmosphere was just electric. Support of friends, family and even total strangers was unbelievable. In all honesty, the week before the race was just one complete euphoric blur. All this left me with only focus and excitement on race day.

This is probably why I am so calm, just an hour before the biggest race... no, biggest event of my life. My mind is clear, no shakes, no butterflies. I had never been this calm even before small races.  It was still dark mixing drinks for the day, getting everything ready, but nothing phases me. We walk down to transition, get drinks and gear onto the already racked bikes. everything goes off without a hitch.

Once everything is settled, tyres checked, bike given the once over, race food checked, I head off to find the Kids Haven support team. Turns out, they were more nervous than I was. I was pretty sure the atmosphere couldn't get any more electrifying. I couldn't be more wrong. Looking around at the other athletes, You saw nerves, focus, excitement, a complete overwhelming mix of emotions. This was just amplified by the emotion and support of the spectators. Paul Kaye announces it's time for us to make our way to the beach... Its time.

When I get to the beach, the sun is just about starting to rise, the helicopter is hovering on the horizon and the view is just spectacular. Almost like something out of a postcard.
I manage to find my group and start warming up and getting ready. I actually start getting nervous... not for the race, but because I am not at all nervous. Manage to shrug it off, and look around and take in the experience. National anthem, all the pre race stuff starts, and I start hearing less and less. My plan was to make my way to the front, and push for a fast swim, seeing as my swim is my strength.

My mind almost completely shuts off to everything else, until I saw Adam. The thing is, this was to be Adam's 5th open water swim. He literally only learned to swim a month or 2 earlier. Understandably, he was visibly nervous. I had so much respect for what he had accomplished with the swim, I couldn't help but say... "don't worry bro, I'll start with you". time to change my strategy. No problem, I have a strong swim, 10 or 15 minutes won't make that much of a difference in my time, after all, I am not going for a win. The elites head off, and everything goes quiet. everyone waiting for the cannon.

BOOOOOM.... and everyone sprints off into the water. Myself and Adam take a leisurely walk down, we get him comfortable with the water, wet his face. Once he manages to completely submerge his face, I look at him and simply say... "you're in bud, have a good race". Just take a moment to evaluate what's happening, as I look up I see the front runners of the group had already passed the first
buoy. I know it will be hard working my way through the slower swimmers and getting into a rhythm, so I just get to it. only lifting my head to sight and evaluate a route around the traffic. It was a bit overwhelming at first, but I got over that so fast. It wasn't 20meters before i couldn't stop myself from smiling. This was just so much fun, I couldn't understand why everyone didn't do it. Took the turn around the first buoy about 15meters wide, to avoid the screaming age groupers, from there it was open water.


I kept my 15meter distance wide of everyone, aside from the occasional wanderer, had almost no traffic. pushed passed the next few buoys and traffic started getting even easier. There was a bit of a swell, but I didn't even notice. My previous swims had drilled into my brain, don't look for buoys, look for the cranes, look for the building. So what I did, was look for the cranes, look for the buildings. before I knew it, I was taking the final turn towards the beach. I remember thinking... what? am I done already? I even double checked my Garmin. Didn't help though, it said I swam 9.8km. Note to self... I really gotta learn how to work this thing.


Not sure what to do next, I slowly made my way to transition.just following the group. crossed the timing mats at 1:13:42. not bad at all. Make my way over to the bags, grab my bike bag and look for a place to change. When I look in the tent, it's all full. Looking around, I see other guys sitting on the floor and getting changed right there outside the tent. Bonus. I do the same, empty the bag out on the floor and start packing everything on.


I had not yet learned to mount on the fly, so had to walk the entire transition on my cleats. No problem, I use this slower time to get some nourishment in, so on my walk I had a sandwich. Cross the start line, and still chewing, I glance over at my watch. 6min transition not bad at all. Getting started on the bike was a bit challenging, still chewing on the sandwich. I take a sip of my energy drink and oh my word, this is nasty. Looking down at the bottle I see it's a strange pink colour... not my usual orange. I guess I must have grabbed the wrong flavour at the shops.

Regardless, I take the first turn to start the first climb. Still feeling strong, I climb pretty well. Start feeling a bit flat about halfway through, So carry on sipping the strange pink drink. I make the climb in good form, start the fast downhill. Enjoying the speed and ease I really let rip. It helps I'm a bit of a fatty, so the extra weight had me overtaking everything I came across with a smile. Forgetting that what goes down must go up, I savour the downhill. Then my nutrition problems start. I realise I need to stop drinking the pink stuff.

 With about 5km left on the fast flat my tummy starts cramping. uh oh. No problem at all, There's plenty of fluids at the water points, I'll just stay hydrated, and not try anything new. At this point, my only concern is cramps. Knowing I have a history of cramping, I knew it was pretty much guaranteed without my salt from my drink. Only solution would be to take it easy. I slow down drastically as we took the turn into the forest section, knowing it was a bit hilly from there. I passed a water point, and grabbed some water, tummy still cramping, I didn't trust taking anything else.



About 60km into the first lap, Immie ( one of the guys from my group) passed me. He slowed down long enough to ask what I was doing. To which my reply was simply taking it easy. He told me I was taking it too easy, and to step on it. I was more than happy to comply, I gave him a questioning look, he gave me a nod of approval, and I was off. The rest of the first lap was pretty straight forward. I finished it in 3:30. Not bad considering how easy I was taking it.


Turning up to the first hill again the lack of nutrition started to show. I took the turn and my legs started showing signs of fatigue. Early signs of cramping set in. This is where I would need to start focusing. I started pushing hard, and when the cramps started, I slowed down. The fast stretches started getting a lot shorter, and the slow bits longer.


Nevertheless, I persevered. I kept moving forward, never stopping. At around 130km, the turn around Maitlands along the coast proved to be a real test. Coming back up that hill drained the last bit of my cycle legs. Heading into the hectic wind took a lot more out of me than I anticipated. I had heard about the beasterly easterly, and this was my introduction to it. It was hard, fast, and unrelenting. That last 45km took the better part of 2 hours. Tummy still cramping, with added leg cramps, I was not in a good place. Regardless, I was still having the time of my life. Enjoying every minute of it. I managed to finish the last lap with a pretty even split. Another 3:30. Made it back to transition in a total time of 7:03:38. Not bad at all.

T2 was a lot slower. I took my time about it, trying to get myself together. For what seemed like eternity, I stretched, shook and loosened myself. My tummy had finally settled, so had some gums. and walked off out of transition. To my surprise, T2 was only 6 minutes. By the time I left transition I
was feeling strong again. The run was never my strength, but I had managed to gather myself. I was even feeling better than a normal brick run. So I was back on track. Taking care not to start too fast, and stick to the pace I trained for... in fact even going a bit slower.

The run leg was absolutely amazing. The crowd support was something out of this world. Total strangers screaming your name like they were your best friend. Friends and family getting so excited to see you, they forget to take pictures. The first few km, I take stock of the race so far. I'm feeling good, still on track for a pretty decent time, well within my target for the first Ironman. Target was under 13 hours btw. Everything is going well, when at the first water point I step on a plastic water packet. I loose my footing, twist my leg somehow and feel a pop in my knee. I think uh oh, that's not good. I kept the pace up for about another 4 km, when I realise the knee is getting worse.

Staying calm, I manage to evaluate, and with 9 hours still to go before cut off, I figure that's my race, just finish. 9 Hours is plenty of time to walk to the end. NO MATTER WHAT, DNF IS NOT AN OPTION. Rather than do anymore damage and push further the decision was to finish easy and come back next year for a time. Turns out, I found out a couple weeks later, it was a tendon that was torn.


So without any pressure of time on me, I was left to really enjoy every aspect of the race. Soaking up the crowd, dancing with the cheerleaders, taking my time about it. after 14km of limping along, I had developed a pretty decent sized blister as well, I assume it was because of the way i was limping... but I was not going to let that detract from any of the joy from the day. I kept on partying and enjoying the day and crowd.

I even managed to finish the run in just under 6 hours. pretty good day overall I thought. No matter how hard it got, no matter how challenging or painful, I couldn't stop thinking about what to do different next year. Not for a second did the thought even cross my mind that i would never do this again. Never did I question why I was doing it. The entire experience was just simply mind blowing, I just can't wait for next year. now to start saving for next years entry. With a total time of 14:30:22 for my first full IronmanSA, I was really happy with that result.

This all started as an effort to raise funds and awareness and hopefully funds for Kids Haven, but has somehow morphed into a full on lifestyle change. I did somehow manage to raise a few ZAR for them, but I will of course keep campaigning and hopefully raise a lot more. It just so happens, I will be having the time of my life doing it. Who would have thought making a difference in the world would be exactly so rewarding?

I have since been asked countless times... what next? why? what is in it for me. All that comes to mind when I hear that are the words that Paul Kaye said when I crossed that finish line... ZANE GAMIET, YOU ARE AN IRONMAN. ZANE YOU ARE PHENOMENAL. And in reply I simply say to them... this was not the destination, it was the merely the beginning of the journey. There will always be another triathlon, another Ironman. So in short, this was never about getting there, turns out it was more about finding the start. The start to a healthy, nail biting, entertaining, thrilling fulfilling journey. A journey of loving every minute of life.