VRDL take on Hotrod Honeys

Fast, intense, rough, sexy, exciting and tough. I don’t think I have ever seen anything like it. Not only is it a sport, it’s also a spectacle. Roller Derby is a skillful game that’s grueling yet graceful.

The almost Antarctic conditions didn’t stop the crowd flocking to the showgrounds last Saturday night to see the Victorian Roller Derby League take on the Texas Hotrod Honeys. All three and a half thousand of them poured through the gates blankets and beanies in tow. For the lucky ones, they scored a seat on the ground or in the grandstand. Those not so lucky stood at the back on the platforms. Those wanting to get close to the action, brought cushions and rugs and sat track side in the ‘suicide seats’ just outside the safety zone. This is where the play comes crashing and sliding down on top of you!

I took my seat on the cold concrete ground, next to the player bench. The girls roll around the track effortlessly warming up. For them skating is second nature. Finely tuning their skills before the start of the bout. They are known only by there derby names, Kitty DeCapitate, Skate Bush, Smashen Pop, Kitty von Krusher to name a few. There uniforms are all different but matching with there own personal touch.





The atmosphere is intense, especially when you have thousands of people huddled around the short track. The teams form their final huddles before ‘Game On.’ As they take up their positions on the track the Hotrod Honeys look to have an impressive line up. But why wouldn’t they, the origins of derby stem back to America from 1930s. At the first whistle the battle begins. The Texans are fast and strong with chiseled abdominal muscles they are quick to tally their first points. There talent is incredible and the local girls put up a fight. The team’s fly past, around and around, they crash and bash and fall and fight. The crowd roars as they battle it out for 60 minutes.





When the final whistle sounds, the bout is over. The scoreboard shows only the result, but not the wonderful spectacle that has rolled out before us. The Texans have won, but it doesn’t matter, everyone had fun. The crowd swarms to the edge of the track to celebrate with the players on there victory lap, high fives all round. The place is left buzzing after this amazing display.

An electric sport like nothing you have every seen before. If you have never been to a derby bout I suggest you get to one soon. You wont regret it.


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Do you think it's possible to fly?

Do you think it's possible to fly? Of course it is! Have you ever wanted to fly? Well of course you have! Imagine soaring through the air. For a moment in time, you are weightless. Flying, no connection to the ground or anything for that matter!

Five meters off the ground, I stood on the platform, approximately eight inches wide. My left hand held the side post, the right held the flying swing. Staring directly ahead, I saw the 'cradle'. That's where I was going. My waist harness was fastened and I was ready to go.

Six months ago, after weeks of pondering, I signed up for flying trapeze school. This was one of the best ideas I had ever conjured up! Once a week for two hours, I'd join five others to learn trapeze tricks at Circus Oz. A fascinating class, the first I attended made me realise what a wonderful escape this was from the world. You really have to concentrate hard on what you're doing, right then and there. Listen and instruct your body, let go of fear and chuck the tricks.

After two terms Id build up quite a number of tricks that I could attempt, I was close to mastering a few but the most recent was the 'Alibaba'. Being quite an advanced trick, Id had a few attempts and I was getting closer and closer each time. The key to the Alibaba is a strong swing, height, power and as with most tricks getting the timing right. My classmate Julz had already succeeded twice on this trick tonight.

So there I was, on the platform, eyes fixed on the cradle. That's where I was going. Firing up I took the leap and launched onto the swing. Kicking my legs backward under the platform, then a tremendous beat forwards. I had the power in my swing. Reaching the top I took another swing backward, a strong beat, I had the height. The final beat forward with all my might. I thrust myself forward releasing my hands to fly forward. Soaring through the air the whole world stopped and I was flying. There I was sitting in mid air, I could see the cradle, closer than ever before. Arms outstretched I reached as far forward as possible.

SPLAAATTT! I hit the mats with the hardest thud. Splattered out like a pancake. I had missed. Again. I'll try again next week, in my last class for the term.

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Need for Speed!

Up the ramp, across the roof, down the stairs, around the corner, through the gate and in through the little door in the corner, this place really was a secret headquarters. Grey clouds and rain had been threatening this cold winters day. As I made my way into the warehouse the cold air lingered, it was no warmer in here. I was embarking on a new adventure, into the world of roller derby. I was lucky enough to obtain one of 50 spots in the Victorian Roller Derby Leagues (VRDL) recreational training program, or as they called it the ‘wRECk crew.’

Just a few months ago I began my quest to be a derby player. I invested in a pair of skates. They were bargain from ebay. Part of the reason I had brought them was because they looked cool. Like sneakers, but with hot pink wheels.

As I newbie in the ‘derby world’ I understood that it would be a while before I would be good enough to bout. I’d heard a bit about the VRDL, a professional league, perhaps one of the best in Australia. Three teams that bout once a month. Together they also form a Victorian team to travel interstate and overseas all in the name of roller derby! Now that’s fun! This is not just girls on skates, this sport is intense. Firstly, to be selected into the league you must get through the try outs. This requires a fair amount of derby skills and fitness, then after months of training for several hours a week, if you’re good enough you will be selected into a team to bout.

So here I start. Skates on, knee pads, elbow pads, wrist guards – check, my helmet is fastened and my mouth guard in! The girls in the group are great chicks all at different skill and fitness levels. We learn to fall, stop and skate in different ways. In the skating drill I find myself flying around the track as fast as possible – its my 'need for speed' (build up through sprinting and bobsleigh). My brain warns me that I’m still very much, an armature. If I’m not careful Ill overbalance splattering all over the cold hard concrete floor. Thankfully I’m fortunate enough to avoid a date with the hard floor on this occasion, no doubt we will meet one day!

I leave the session feeling exhilarated, I have just tapped into another new passion. I am determined to play...watch this space.

Two little words.

The past 18 months have been a roller coaster. I have been scared, emotional, ridden with fear. Felt excited, had fun and been inspired. The most important thing that I can do now is recognise this has not only been MY journey, I have not achieved this on my own. This tale is not complete with out mentioning the amazing people who helped me learn to run again. To say those two words that we don’t say enough. THANK YOU. So here we go.

On the medical side…

Dr Tymms, my amazing orthopedic surgeon, who wonderfully repaired my snapped achillies and opened up my leg twice more to fight away the infection.

Dr. Leo, my anesthetist and the team at the Epworth Eastern hospital.

Jacqui Louder, my sports psychologist. Thank you for listening and guiding me through this roller coaster of events. I gained so much from the time I spent with you.

Steve Hawkins, my physio who got me back on my feet. Your experience, knowledge and care are phenomenal. Your enthusiasm towards my rehab ultimately was something money couldn’t buy.

John Quinn, my wonderful physiologist who helped me though the final stages of my rehab. I am fascinated by your knowledge and your wonderful ability to get athletes back on their feet.

Ian Nathan, my massage therapist. Your work extends far beyond massage and I have learnt so much about my body and how it operates. Your ongoing support, care and understanding in incredible.

Getting me back to running…

Joe Gulli, my old coach. Your genuine nature and being able to relate to athletes is such a wonderful quality. I still have your words of wisdom in text message you sent me after I had told you about the injury

Peter Van, my coach. I don’t think there are enough words to thank you. Your support in all aspects of my life through this time was so great. The friendship you offered me, the professional direction you adopted and the laughter that you can generate was a massive part in my recovery. Most of all, thank you for your belief in me to achieve my goals. Without you, I would not have achieved what I did. Thank you.

Lloyd, Dys and Bells, my dedicated training partners that I see day in day out. I love training with you. Thank you for being so supportive and interested in my recovery. I know training will be fun when you guys are there.

Thank you to the Angelsea Beach team. You are an amazing group of people, I love training and racing with you.

John Baldock, your passion towards the surf club and me is mind blowing. Thank you for all the support you have offered during this time.

My friends…

Jadey, Dani, Andy, Tanya, Andrea, Tegs, Kate P, Ebon, Gabe, Jess, Jack Gulli, Jemma, Marty, Steve, Abi, Kate, Jan, Sara, Nai, Matta, Nes, George, Steve, Mans, Crib, Em, Crib, Date, Hayley, Pammi. Thank you for your visits and time spent with me over summer.

Housemates Gabby, Adrian and Saana, thank you for putting up with me and helping me live and get by on one leg.

Workmates and colleagues Dave, Jane, Andrea, Nat, Kate Bu, Kate P and the crew at Fed Square, thank you for caring so much and getting me back to work.

My support group…(aka my family)

Wendy, my aunty who had this same injury. Thank you for offering me your insights.

Aaron and Holly thank you for caring and understanding what I was going through and supporting me during this time.

Mum and Dad, your support to me though this time was amazing. Thank you for caring so much, for allowing me to not have to worry about the smaller challenges that life throws at you during these times of toughness.

And most of all my beautiful sister, Claire. You have inspired me, encouraged me, put me back into line, told me to pull my head in and taught me so much. I cant thank you enough.

I cant thank all of these people enough and everyone who was part of this time in my life. I love you all and thank you.

The 18 month rollercoaster

Training returned to Olympic Park tonight. My first real session back there since I ruptured my achillies. I have trained there since, but not in the same capacity. A typical cold winters night. Beautiful, none the less. As the darkness of the cold Melbourne night set in, the city comes to life the radiant AAMI park roof lights up. I could stare at it all night, the tiny coloured glistening lights. With the darkness brings peace and stillness in a strange way when you are in the middle of the chaos.

Our session begins as this place has a unique ability to immerse me in the moment. Pacing up and down the grass, I feel like I’m floating. I haven’t run like this in a few months yet the feeling is amazing. I truly love running. The others idle with athletic chitchat, as I am completely absorbed in the moment. The soft grass takes my impact and I concentrate on perfecting my style. Striding out, I lift my hips, relax my shoulders and freely swing my arms. The cool air freezes my face, my body moves. There is nowhere else I would rather be.

As I trundle past the very spot my achillies snapped (a quick calculation in my head) exactly 18 months ago to this very day (ironic in itself), thoughts of my journey of returning to running come flooding back. The past 18 months has been an incredible roller coaster, physically, mentally and emotionally. A time that seemed could not pass fast enough, is simply over and I have popped out at the other end. A place I never thought I would reach at the time. Emotions deluge my mind as a lump builds in the back of my throat. I feel I finally can realise the ride I have been on. The amazing ability the human body has to heal and recreate itself. Most of all the true understanding of achieving something you set out to do. After they hype and excitement of the moment dies down. Believing in yourself and the unforeseeable future. I did it J.

Aussies Finals Day: In just a few short seconds, it was all over!

Being ‘alive’ on the finals day is an exciting experience. I sat in the shade of the big screen waiting to be called for the final. The breeze was warm and it was hot in the sun. The atmosphere was buzzing. Knowing that a few days before the arena was filled with every competitor. Filed down to the final eight, it was now practically empty. For me this made it more exciting.

During this wait a few people joined me momentarily. Lloyd came with his enthusiasm and motivation. Amongst others, Lloyd has been one of my closest training partners and had shared the entire year of training with me. His excitement for me lifted my spirits. Balls sat down beside me. His passion for this sport is so great; he can make you smile and cry at the same time. The final words always so encouraging and filled with wisdom and true meaning.

Van sat on my other side for the last piece of advice. I can’t thank him enough for the work he has put in with me. His energy and enthusiasm were addictive. This was not about what I had to do, or not do. The hard work was done. For now I couldn’t get any stronger or faster, perhaps just wiser. He took me back to remember where I had been. The emotions flooding back, as everything to do with this injury flashed before me. Remembering how hard I had worked to get where I was. The rebuilding process that I had achieved to be here today and in this race. He reminded me that I was the only one who had started this quest for the flag 12 months ago in a moonboot with a ruptured achillies. This didn’t make me better than anyone, you should never compare. But it made me realise what you can archive if you want something bad enough.

To my surprise I wasn’t drawing inspiration from this today. Perhaps in hindsight I should have been. I wanted to look forward and focus on what I could do. Or maybe how good I could do it.

We walked onto the arena and the hot sun pierced my entire body. The heat was scorching. As much as I tried to ignore it, I had probably drawn the worst possible lane. Between teammates Melissa, last years winner and Chanel who’d beaten Melissa at last weeks Queensland titles. This didn’t matter because anything can happen in flags. Lining up on the sand, I drew every inch of energy from the super excited crowd as the air fell silent and we waited for the start.

The whistle blasted and I didn’t miss a beat. When I turned to face the flag, I couldn’t see anyone. But as I stepped out they caved in beside me, I had no option but to change path. Behind Chanel I put the dive in but being in the wrong line I missed by inches. For a moment my heart sank and I was bitterly disappointed. There was no flag for me. In just a few short seconds, it was all over. Walking of the arena I felt sad inside. I am pretty hard on myself in what I expect to achieve. I love flags so much; I just wanted to keep playing! The final seemed to drag on for ages and I watched from the sidelines. Michelle came in third and Melissa winning in a close run off with Chanel (in second). I commend these girls, congratulations to them all. This year had definitely been a hot final!

As I came to reflect on what I had achieved, I pushed the sadness away. I realised how well I had done to get this far and to get back to this level of competition. Eighth in both individual finals and third in our relay, you have to be happy with that. Yes, I was happy with that J.

Aussies day three: One Big Day – Part 3: The semi final ill never forget!

By now energy levels were starting to dwindle. After the hype of the relay we left the presentation area to prepare for the flags. I felt like I should be getting into my pyjamas and hoping into bed. Instead I was practicing beach flags ready to contest the quarterfinals. Flags are very much a mental sport. Being in the right state of mind is critical. Getting into the right mindset wasn’t too difficult. The key is to be relaxed and clam. The difficulty today was pushing the nerves aside. Today I knew 100% that at the end of the day there would be a final of eight. This seemed like a scary thought at first. Until I kept reminding myself that there would be a place for me in that final eight. At the end of the day someone has to take them!

The quarterfinals were a good warm up. Thankfully I was on the ball from the start. The best thing was that Claire and Hayley had qualified for the semis too. Claire was in the other and Hayley was in mine.

Down we went onto the line. My first turn was sharp and I lined up for a flag. Taking the dive I stretched out my hands opened around the flag. Bang! Someone had come from nowhere. Knocking the living daylights out of me. Instantly shocked my hands mustn’t have had time to clamp down on the flag and it was gone. Where was it? I came up without the flag, realising that it was Hayley that knocked me. But none of us had the flag. I was underneath and knew the flag was there somewhere. Remaining calm I quickly put my hand in for the search. Where was it? After a few seconds of scrambling I felt the hose, clenched it tight and pulled it out! Few! That was a close one!

The blow from Hayley had been hard and I didn’t feel quite right when I stood up. So I took my time getting back for the next run off. I was second from the end this time. Feeling happy with the line up, I got down on the sand again. Whistle blasting, it was another good turn. This time coming across to line up the end flag. Devina, a long-standing great flagger was on my left. I was about to take her flag. She used her body well against me. But I muscled through and as I took my dive her feet clipped mine. I plummeted into the sand headfirst with arms outstretched. The flag was secure but I came up with a face full of sand. I had taken another bashing. I took some breaths before facing the next run.

The cheer squad was awesome. Spotting Crib, Nai and Dys on the sidelines lifted my moral. The next run off I was clear, grabbing a flags no problems. Now it was the run off for the finals. I drew lane one. In my mind I was already there, but physically I needed to get there. My turn could have been better and Michelle on my left started to come over. I couldn’t go for my end flag. Some quick thinking and I switched directions, weaving behind Michelle for the other flag. Someone else was lining up for this one too. Not today, I had worked too hard to let this one go. In the contested dive I came up with the flag. The flag to the final!  A magical feeling, I had made it!

Aussies day three: One Big Day – Part 2: Relay in the Medals!

There is something about running in a beach relay for Anglesea SLSC. Maybe it’s the history of Anglesea and those who have gone before us. Maybe it’s the uniqueness of the individuals that come together to form a team. Whatever it is, it’s a great feeling.

Today Molly, Hayley, Claire and I would start in the Open women’s event. In my first years to Aussies I ran with the likes of Elly, Hutton, Vanessa Guest, Catherine Marshall, Lucy Robinson and Em Watsford. But most inspirational of all was Nai, Naomi Symington. The biggest team player I had every worked with. A great runner, she knew how to step to run relays. She is now the president at Anglesea. The best thing was that she was here today. Originally she had decided not to come to the Aussies. In the end, she couldn’t resist and brought a last minute ticket.

The four of us warmed up together. We were a great team. We had had some setbacks throughout the season but we were here now. Our running order had changed around many times. As Mol had broken her right arm she would start and I would take the baton from her in our perfected “left handed change.” Hayley was next and Claire would bring us home. Together we made our way down the water. There was room here to practice our changes. Nai met us all there, watching on and giving us the final tips. She believed in us and I knew she wanted this as much as we did.

Collectively we had ranked out team in the top four of the competition. Considering this we were a pretty good shot at making the final. However we didn’t want to be too confident. I was particularly nervous which was a good thing. However I had to concentrate hard for the first baton change. The race was good and we had placed second. We cruised through to the final. Our changes could improve and we agreed that we would all step up the pace.

Before to long we were being called for the final. Waiting in the marshaling area, we all stood together. Last week, we trained at Anglesea beach. The weather was gloomy and we were the only ones on the beach. We had filled a jar with Anglesea beaches sand and it was in my pocket. We stood together in a circle giggling with our jar of Anglesea. A lot had happened for us all to get here as a team. This didn’t matter, it didn’t matter whom we were racing against. We just wanted to contest this final!

Running from the top lane we took up our spots. Mol and Hayley walked to the other end of the track that felt like forever. Finally Mol was in the blocks and they were away. All I could see was her charging towards me at a rate of knots! I didn’t know where the other teams were, but that didn’t matter. She hit my mark and I flew out.

What happened next can only be described as pure luck, perhaps mixed with a small amount of skill! The two or so seconds that follow felt like eternity. Meeting in the middle the baton was up, my hands were out and Mol let go. I started to accelerate but where was the baton? Normally it was secure in my hand but not this time. I didn’t freak out, I kept powering on. Naturally my arms had come crossed over my chest. I was hugging the baton. Thankfully my right hand aligned and I clasped the baton pulling it backwards with my next stride. Those who saw this told me I didn’t even break stride! For the first few steps I had felt like I had no baton. Our team had been very lucky. Racing down the track I knew we were close. The change with Hayley was seamless and my work was done.

All I could do now was cheer for Hayley. She was flying. Her change with Claire was brilliant and we were now on the home run. I couldn’t look at the other teams but I knew they were there. I knew it would be close and I knew we were in it! Claire had stepped up and she was motoring home. Every step she took she was getting closer. She crossed the line and I stood there frozen. We had done it, we were third and we had collected and Aussie medal. The feeling was wonderful.

The feeling of winning an Aussies medal came flooding back to me. Until we were all there as a team I felt like we couldn’t celebrate! Our cheer squad congratulated us as we technically dissected each part of the race. When we saw the others Mol seemed upset and apologised profusely about our change. For a moment she was unaware where we had placed. I told her it didn’t matter because we had come third. Her face lifted with confusion, excitement and almost disbelief. This was her first Aussie medal. She had done it with a broken arm! They don’t just give away Aussie medals, you have to earn them and we had. This was a wonderful moment.

Aussies day three: One Big Day – Part 1 Beach Sprint

Today we rose early, the entire team would be racing today as we had relays, sprints and some flags. The team walked down to the warm up area together. This was a great feeling. This team was amazing one that has grown so much in the last few years. I was so excited to be surrounded by these wonderful people.

We warmed up together and felt invincible. After a few laps of the park Lloyd – the beach team captain gathered us together. He reminded us what we were doing here and more importantly where we had come from. This mini pep talk would get us going. The energy this team was generating fuelled my excitement.

First up were the sprint semis finals. I didn’t want to know where I was and who was in my race. The marshal called me to heat 1, lane 1. I couldn’t have wished for anything better. Not having to hear or see who would be in my race. Again the hood went on and I focused on my lane. All I could see at the end of my lane was the number one on the gates. The words “gold” (as in gold coast) were on the sponsors banner ahead of me. This worked for me. Adrenaline was racing and energy levels were high. The nerves ran around my body, the atmosphere was electric. Settling into the blocks and calming my nerves just enough was easy. The gun blasted, I powered out and I felt amazing. What was happening, I was winning? I felt like I was floating. I had that feeling I love, of running fast. Lost in the moment. Relaxed in the rhythm and the pace. Hair flying behind you and your face is cold.

When I crossed the line something inside me smiled. Looking over to my support crew on the fence, I was in shock. Where had I pulled that run from? I should have remembered my reputation in semi finals. Historically it’s normally my best performances at Aussies. I couldn’t believe what I had just done. Right now, I was a finalist in the Open Women’s Beach Spring for 2011. Incredible!

After the semi it was a nervous wait for the final. All other finals had been run but due to the TV coverage there was time delay for open events. The feeling of making an Aussie final is second to none. Waiting in the empty arena they called us to the line. The camera panned passed and I smiled, excited just to be here. This was cool! I’m on TV!

Silence fell over the beach and all I could hear was the thudding music building the anticipation. This was kind of scary. Not a sound and we were on our marks. As the gun blast the crowd roared. Screaming and cheering was all I could hear and I belted down the track. A frightening yet exciting experience. Crossing the line in eight place, the trill of running in the final was enough. I nearly hadn’t entered the race and this time last year I couldn’t event walk! This was huge!

 

Aussies day two: A day of Flags ill never forget…with only one run off!

Beach flags heats are always the most frustrating at Aussies. They are normally all scheduled on one day. Taking the competitors down to a final of eight. I woke up on Friday morning knowing that by the end of the day the finals would be decided. Competition wasn’t starting till 2pm. This alone made me wonder if we would even get the heats finished. Most competitors would agree that it was a long agonising day. The sleep in was great, but then we waited and waited. We warmed up and waited some more.

When we finally got called on to the beach arena it must have been about 3.15pm. Watsy and Dyson had gone before me in the under 19 men’s event. They were both through to the finals. Both so excited and relieved that there day was over. I wanted to be in their position. And so we waited.

By the time we got to the line it must have been about 3.50pm. All competition must stop at 4pm. After last year’s tragedy, this was a new rule implemented to avoid long tiering days on the beach. In an attempt to speed up the program 3 competitors would be eliminated per run. This was cut throat and made me nervous. I focused all my energy on pushing this aside. Instead I would just enjoy the moment and soak up the atmosphere.

Finally were on the beach, whistle blasting. Someone broke and we were called back. You can hardly blame them, after waiting all day for our first start. My start was great but we would go again. That competitor was eliminated. I was in lane one, which left me only one option, the end flag. Bang, whistle blasted again. We were up and running, so determined to get the hose that lay ahead of me! I got it! A great relief to have the first run done and dusted. Not knowing the time, the official told me that we might be finished for the day. 3.55pm. Sure enough she was right.

In a matter of moments it was all over. Although I was frustrated at the same time, a wave of relief rushed over me. The commotion that went on was quite amusing, the field of girls had only one run off and we were calling it a day. The news was that we would complete the round on Saturday after the sprints (semis and finals) and relay (semis and finals).

Tomorrow was going to be a big day. The frustration of the events had put me on edge, and I tried to brush it aside. I couldn’t. I felt happy for my teammates who had made it though but couldn’t relax completely. That entire day and there we were one flag run off, with the entire event ahead of me. I keep telling myself ‘it is what it is’ and there has to be eight girls to make that final, there would be a spot in that final for me!

Aussies Day One

Thursday was our first day of competition. Beach sprint and relay heats. I had been training for beach flags this year. Opting out of the beach sprints had always been my intention for Aussies. However I had been toying with the idea of having a run. The tracked seemed good. I was feeling good. The relay was later that day and it would be a good warm up. I was in!

The plan was to have a hit out in the first round. If I was on pace I would continue, if not, I’d withdraw and save my energy for the relay and beach flags. This didn’t go exactly to plan. The heat I drew had only four competitors. The top four would qualify for the quarterfinals. As long as no one broke we would all get through.

Quarterfinals were up next and it was time to switch on. My plan was to run my own race. I didn’t want to know the competition. Nor did I want to know who was in the lanes next to me, or heats behind me. For our team uniform this year we had been given a white hoodie. This was my perfect retreat. I pulled the hood over my head and fell into my own world. The marshal called my name “Heat two, lane one, Abby from Anglesea.” Perfect, I thought. Being here meant I wouldn’t have to see or know whom I would race against. I lined up staring directly ahead, down my lane. The starter called us to our marks and I could have been the only one on the beach. As the gun went I channelled all the power and speed I could find. Propelling forward, I glided along the sand. Feeling relaxed and fast I finished the race. Effortlessly it seemed Barley raising a puff! It worked, I had just cruised through the semi finals placing second.

Soon after we were informed that our relays went down to straight semis. We wouldn’t have to run them today. Tomorrow we would flag. I could only try my luck in the sprint semi on Saturday. Our relay would feature then too. For now I was content. Day one was over.

Aussies Eve

Here I am, in room seven at Broadbeach Central. Today is the eve of Aussies 2011. 14 years ago I came to Kurrawa for my first Australian Surf Life Saving Championships. The atmosphere was electric, the hype was intense and as a 15 year old there was no better feeling than arriving at Kurrawa. Experiencing this event for the very first time. Today was no different. Perhaps this is not expressed so outwardly anymore, but the excitement still flows through my veins when I arrive at this beach.

The half of the Anglesea Beach team that have arrived, assemble at four o’clock. We would have one last training session on the beach. There is nothing quite like walking out onto Kurrawa beach on the eve of the championships. The eyrie thrill of being in the middle of the beach sprint track is electric. Grandstands line the edge and the big screen towers above us. What has gone before us and what is about to happen is what makes this place buzz. The cool sand slips through my toes. The light breeze dances through the hair that has fallen from my ponytail. I’m excited. Everybody here is. The energy bounces off one another. Block starts for some, beach flags starts for others. We finish off with baton changes with our relay teams. Before we leave the beach some words of the advise from our incredibly talented leader in Peter Van Miltenburg. John Baldock also adds his bit. Brimming with passion for the Anglesea Beach Team, his enthusiasm seeps into each and every one of us.

At out team meeting we hear of the day’s results. In closing Peter Van adds some words for us to think about. His passion, enthusiasm, and pride for the Anglesea Surf Life Saving Club are immense. Everyone sits in silence not daring to move a muscle. Eyes focused on the speaker. Every word is bellowed with absolute meaning, as the team is captivated by his words. I certainly am. The passion reaps before me from this man, my coach, my friend. I am so proud to be a part of this movement with this team.

In a short unexpected chat with Peter Van, in front of room one, I’m offered one final piece of advice. Seemingly fitting on the eve of our first race. What you need to this weekend is let go of the past, the expectations and the wonder. You need to let go so you can find the single reason in why you are here. Look inside yourself and unleash your passion, the love for what you are doing here and why you are doing it. Let it be. Then and only then will you achieve your true potential.

Aussies is looming...

Claire and I waited in the car. The wind lashed across South Melbourne beach and cars were in gridlock along Beaconsfield Parade. The beach was empty and the water looked more than uninviting. Friday night beach sessions were always how our squad finished the week. Tonight was different; there was buzz in the air. Tonight was one of the last sessions for the season.

The team trickled in one by one. Hayley, Wooly, Lloyd, Simon and Dyson. Claire and I gave up the warm car for the blustering wind to join the others. Wattsy, Kate and Steph came after. Aussies was looming and excitement grew within the squad.

Most of us were there tonight. We rolled through our warm up and head onto the sand. Our final preparations were making us sharp. Our team was coming together and we were energized for the week ahead. Relay changes, block starts and flags. Stories were told from previous years Aussies, as we wondered what we would make of this years Championship. We couldn’t wait to get to Kurrawa and as the session came to an end, we were one step closer.

For now we had done the work, and that had been a lot of work. For me it was 2 years work. The Anglesea Beach Team were ready, I was ready.

A lesson learnt at the State Championships

Today was just another day of competition. This morning we woke up early. We played our favourite songs though my computer. Claire, Hayley, Tahni and I joked around as we packed our bags for the carnival. Today was day 2 of the Victorian State Life Saving Championships for 2011. We were all excited but for me it felt like just another carnival.

The championships were held at Lakes Entrance. Juniors and seniors came together on the same beach. With bags packed and dressed in green and white we began the walk to the beach. The pilgrim we called it. Competitors, nippers, coaches, mums and dads made their way to the beach. Moving as one along the boardwalk, across the bridge, over the hill and onto the beach. The calm morning was quite but the atmosphere was certainly buzzing. The sunrise was picture perfect red, pink orange and yellow.

Beach flags are by far and above my favourite event. The finals first up on today’s program. The sun got hot quickly as we warmed up. Or perhaps we were preparing to do battle against the seven other competitors. I watched on as the age finals took place before us. Fellow competitors and friends fighting it out, winning in glory, others losing, shatteringly devastated in their performance. I absorbed the mixed emotions and attempted to harness the good. Instill confidence in my ability. This is my event, I have proved it to myself this year and today would be not different.

The girls and I marshaled at the bottom of the track. Anglesea had strength in numbers, as we always do. But there were only six of us today. This meant it would require only five run offs to become the champion. Before long we were underway. There seemed so many feelings and thoughts racing though my mind. Concentration the key, focus the challenge. Elimination one by one and before I knew it we were down to just two. My sister and favourite friend were now in a position of fierce rivalry. Claire and I, would battle it out. Only one of us could win.

I drew lane one. Id had one turn in this lane already, it didn’t seem quite right. Blocking those thoughts, I told myself it was the winning lane. I was confident and focused. We prepared the cool sand and took up our positions. We could have been the only two on the beach. Silence and stillness fell around us as we awaited the start. The blast of the whistle was the reaction queue. Powering my body into action. I snapped up and turned to face the flag. Racing out of the blocks, shoulder to shoulder. I should have been clean if front but my turn had been sluggish. Panic set in as I attempted desperately to turn it into power and speed. We launched for the flag in a fight of our bodies. My hand reached out and closed in around the flag. Was it there? The sand fell away and I felt the rubber hose. I clenched on with my entire mite. We came up together neither of us wanting to let go. The judges consulted as we waited for an outcome. A re run was called.

Playing it out all over again. My feelings were strange. Anxious and scattered I made my way up to the line. The familiar voice from the sideline stood out amongst all others. Vans words were a blessing and set my mind at ease. Back to the concentration and focus. This time it would be mine. My turn was spot on and I was out in front, I had it. Launching for the flag, she came powering over me. I looked down at the flag her hands had it too? Where had she come from? Again the judges consulted. We waited in confusion. Approaching us they explained the situation. They believe my hands had grabbed the baton first, I was declared the winner in a strange series of events. Claire had thought she had the flag clear in the first run off and was disappointed with the decision. This wasn’t the same winning feeling. There was a lesson learnt proving a warning for me. Four weeks out from the Australian Championships at Kurrawa.

Ready to Race

When the 10^th December ticked over I was filled with adrenaline. I felt ready to race. Of course I had my doubts but they had been buried by my excitement. Battle of the beach was the first competition on Friday night. On Sunday would come the ‘real’ first carnival at Ocean Grove.

Battle of the beach would be tough. Starting off with three 90m-beach sprint races. I was just happy to make it through. The beach flags was what I really wanted to win. Before I knew it, we were down to the final race off. Pausing for a moment, I realised how much I had gone through to put myself here. I smiled and took up my position. From here, it didn’t matter what happened, because I had made it this far. Nailing the turn, my competitive spirit kicked in. Diving to the ground, I grabbed the flag to take the win. Overwhelmed by emotion and excitement, my hands trembled. The thrill of competing came flooding back. This was a wonderful moment.

Backing up on Sunday for competition would test the body. This was the first official carnival for the year. A cold, windy and rainy day at the beach was nothing new at a Victorian surf carnival. Excitement and enthusiasm had carried through from Friday night as I found myself lining up in the final few for the beach flags. To confirm to myself that Friday night had not been a fluke! Again I found myself in the final two. Again I paused and remembered and smiled and laughed to myself in my head. I was here. Friday night was not a fluke as I backed up with victory again.

Being back on the beach and feeling fit was amazing. Over the past 12 months a lot had gone on. Physically, mentally and emotionally I had been pulled through the highs, the lows and everything in between. My moods had been up and down. My doubts came and went. However when I stepped onto the beach, I was ready.

For this, I owe credit to my team. All of the inspirational people and supporters around me. On the medical side the main contributors were my surgeon, physio, physiologist, psychologist and massage therapist. My housemates, friends and family. Joe and the Gulli gang, my old training squad. Everyone at the Anglesea Surf Life Saving Club for their care and support. The Angle beachies squad, the guys that make training so wonderful every single day. I look forward to training so much because of you guys! Nai, Nes, Jade and Balls who inspire me to keep going and search for the best in myself. Andy who’s advise is invaluable. Mum and Dad for being there whenever I needed and offering their support no matter what happened.

My coach Van, what an inspirational friend you have been. Your outlook on life, your views on issues, your coaching ability are second to none. Above all I admire your attitude to ‘keeping it real.’ Keeping me down to earth. I love your passion for getting the very best out of your athletes. I cant thank you enough for the time and energy you have invested in me as an athlete and friend.

My sister Claire, thank you for being their every step of the way. You inspire me.

Thanks to Danielle Lynch for the wonderful photos.

308 days on.

Upon returning from Aussies 2010 I learnt to walk again. I had been walking in the boot but without it, it was different. My right calf muscle had totally disintegrated. The muscle was like jelly with no structure at all. I was literally starting from scratch. In the beginning I would get tired easily. After completing my daily exercises and a day at work I couldn’t do much else.

Before too long I built up some strength. When my physio suggested I could start to try and run again, my eyes burst out of my head. This was exciting. However it was a slow process. Firstly I would start with 30min, jogging for 200m then walking. Gradually I would build up to a complete 30min jog. I remember this clearly. I returned home feeling so excited to have completed a 30min jog! Everything was fine but both legs felt different. My left leg felt normal, my right leg felt as though it had ran a marathon. This feeling went on for a while. Occasionally I would have shooting sparks fire up my right achillies. Thanks to my phyiso I could understood this was all part of the process. This was probably a nerve ending trying to figure out how to reconnect itself!

As frustrating as this process was, I kept pushing through. At times I felt like I was wrapping myself in cotton wool. Was I doing enough? Was I doing too much? Winter training had started and I eventually made it back onto the track. This was the scene of the crime. Being near the back straight at Olympic Park was creepy. I could almost feel the thud of my right ankle as it collapsed beneath me. None the less I started there with light run throughs. These built up, faster and faster. Before too long our squad moved to a grass track. This was a welcome change for my confidence.

Towards the end of June I had an appointment scheduled with my surgeon. I waited eagerly in the foyer, wondering what he would say this time. What would my instructions be and when would I see him next? Finally it was my turn. The appointment lasted about 10 minutes. He was happy with the progress my achillies was healing. I was free to go. Continuing with physio, I did not need to see him again. Just like that, seven months on, my achillies had grown back together. From my perspective there was still a lot of work to be done. I was a long way away from sprinting 90 metres down a beach sprint track.

October 4^th 2010 was a significant milestone for my return. Most of my competitors would have been preparing to for the world titles in Egypt. I completed my first time trial, 150 meters in just over 22 seconds. 308 day before my right ankle had snapped in two. This was a joyful day. I was so proud to get to this point.

Before too long, I had marked December 10^th in the diary. This would be my first race back. Clocking up training sessions, the days ticked down. As this date drew closer I started to doubt if I would be ready in time. This was as much a mental game as it was physical. I was scared and afraid. I wondered… ‘What… if I ruptured it again?’ ‘What if… it wasn’t ready?’ ‘What if I couldn’t run fast again?’ So what if…Only time would tell.

Aussies 2010 – Tragedy and standing on the wrong side of the fence.

Taking up photography meant I could be involved with the team at carnivals. Not that I needed an excuse. I wanted to be useful to the team. Taking photos gave me a buzz and I practiced my skills at surf carnivals. Just being there was exciting. Trampling up and down in the soft sand in my boot was tiering, but it didn’t stop me.

The Australian Surf Life Saving Championships has an indescribable atmosphere. In 2010 they returned to Kurrawa, QLD after three years at Scarborough beach, Perth. On the second day whilst I was waiting for events to start, a tragedy occurred. The entire beach of about 4000 competitors and spectators feel silent. Shock fell over the carnival as the word spread fast on the beach. The horrific news we heard was that a competitor was missing at sea. For the best part of 45 minutes we stood on the beach in silence. Nobody left, they just stood there looking out to sea. Jet skis and IRBs circled the ocean as helicopters buzzed above. The carnival was cancelled and people began to leave the beach. Later that day we were informed that they had found the young competitors body. Nobody knew what to do and everyone felt upset. The following day event organisers announced that all water events were cancelled. Beach events would be the only events completed at Aussies in 2010.

The beach competitors continued on their way. The heartbreaking events were so fresh in everyone’s minds. Saturday saw the beach sprints and relay final races. Anglesea performed outstandingly with finalists in the sprint and relay. Even better were the medals our men’s teams won. Standing on the sidelines was exciting. Cheering with enthusiasm as our team lined the fence. I couldn’t help wanting to be out there. Racing with the others.

Sunday was set to be a long day. The remaining flags heats and finals. What I really wanted to see was the opens women’s race. This was my event. What I had been training for throughout the winter. Standing on the wrong side of the fence was difficult. I wanted to be a part of the mix. To be racing off for those flags. Instead I bit my lip and came to terms with watching. I was still wearing the boot. One by one, girls were eliminated. Becoming harder and harder to watch each time. I snapped photos of every run off. My mouth was dry and I was silent. At last the event came to an end. Seeing triumph for the winner and placegetters. Some were disappointed. I was relieved. I could put it behind me and look forward to next year.

Walking away from the event was strange. The tragedy of Friday hung for a long time. The surf life saving community bound together. They left with feelings of sadness. They would return but no one would ever forget what happened on the beach and in the ocean that day.

Understanding rehab for a ruptured achillies.

Rehabilitation for a ruptured achillies is a long process. Everyone told me this, the doctors, physiotherapists and friends who had ruptured their achillies. Perhaps one of the longest required for an injury. My doctor told me it could take as long as 24 months to recover. If I was lucky as short as six, but generally around 12. A calculation in my head determined that there was a possibility I could race next season. Immediacy I cemented this as my goal. Without this, rehab for the sake of rehab would be tough. So there it was, I would learn to run again.

As soon as I could, I started fronting up to training. This would be mainly upper body and core stability sessions in the gym. Initially I would hop around with my crutches. Then I would hop around in my boot. Being back with the squad was wonderful. They were preparing to race the State Titles and Aussies. I got a buzz out of simply being around them. They were inspirational.

There were a lot of other rehab exercises that I had to commit. One thing that was made crystal clear to me was to “Do every exercise you are given, listen to your physio and do everything they say.” Ingrained in my mind, this message became the foundation blocks for the beginning of my rehab. My physio was amazing. Initially I saw him every two or three weeks. Soon this stretched out to four. We would talk about every facet of the injury. Including how my mind was coping. Seeing the physio was exciting, representing the next step in the recovery process. Some sessions were great, others I would be in tears. Every time I saw him, I would walk away with a handful of exercises to do. These would take anywhere up to an hour each day. Being back at work this meant getting up and hour earlier just so I could do them. It was a strenuous process and sometimes I didn’t want get up. But every day I got up. I would hear the voices in my head and the message “Do every exercise you are given, listen to your physio and do everything they say.” I’m still doing the exercises today 12 months later!

Third time lucky.

Saturday morning passed quite quickly. For the third time in six weeks I was down in the operating theatres. I was a regular now. The operation was over before I knew it. Again waking up unsure of what had happened. Again I came crashing back to reality in no time at all.

In total I spent seven days in hospital on the second stint. It was physically, mentally and emotionally draining. Visitors occasionally rolled in. My family was the first to support me. My training buddies and close mates also visited. Although it was the middle of summer the weather wasn’t that great. One day the rain pelted on the windows. I thought to myself ‘the weather was just as miserable as I was.’ In times like these my inner voice would speak out. It had been seemingly strong during this ideal. So much so that I even surprised myself at how well I was coping. This time it told me again to be positive. ‘There is a reason this had happened, you just don’t know it yet. Stop looking at the negatives.'

Looking back now, I believe it was my attitude that helped me though this injury and rehabilitation. In the first instance when the snap occurred, I didn’t break down. Carrying a brave face I looked forward unfazed by what had happened. This kept me in high spirits but also kept my feelings inside. When I returned from hospital for the second time, I broke. Emotion poured out and they heavy feelings set in. Fair enough too. What I built my body up to be had broken. 12 months of training and hard work down the drain. During this period I couldn’t do much but sit at home and wait. Thinking about my feelings, thinking about what had happened and thinking of ways to entertain myself.

There were times when I just couldn’t do anything at all. My back would ache from being in the same position. Sometimes I didn’t want to watch TV, I didn’t want to read and I didn’t want company. I would just sit and stare into space. Hoping that a magical idea would come along to cure my boredom.

Simple tasks became difficult. Showering, grocery shopping, getting from A to B. Being on crutches means not only do you loose you leg but you loose your arms and hands as well. Fortunately for me, during this time my sister had moved in. She did everything for me. I could not have coped and remained sain without her. I can’t thank her enough for her support during that time.

Nights were the hardest. I simply can’t recall how I managed. The pain and was discomfort unbearable. Like nothing I have experienced before. One night I gave up my fight to avoid the strong painkillers. I couldn’t remember how many to take. I took two. It worked like a treat, perhaps too well. Later that night I attempted to grab my crutches and head for the bathroom but it was no use. The drugs had knocked me out. I couldn’t even make it to the door. Returning to bed and out like a light.

This period was a tough time, but it had to be stuck out. Life is all about timing, I had decided. Things happen at certain times, for different reasons. I strongly believe this and still do. The reason why this I ruptured my Achilles when I did is still not clear to me. I don’t need to know that now, I just trust that one day it will become clear.

Take Two

When I got into hospital, I was put on a drip. Antibiotics were pumped through my body. For the entire night and day, I waited restlessly for the second operation. There was nothing else for me to think about. I just had to wait. Finally at about 7.30pm I was prepped for surgery. This time was much harder. I had been waiting for this all day. They wheeled me right into the theatre. Moving me onto the operating table. Aren’t they going to give me the anaesthetic now, I anxiously wondered? The table was narrow and hard. If I had moved, I would have fallen off. To add to my fears, I suddenly realised I had worn the wrong underwear. A lacy pair you could see right through. It was too late to worry about this now. Besides I’m sure they had seen worse. The surgeons prepped around me. I lay helplessly on the operating table in my lacy underwear.

All of a sudden, alarms started to sound. Trolleys rushed around me. Tension in the air heightened. I could feel the panic. An emergency code blue was called. The six or so doctors fled my operating theatre. This left the anaesthetist, one other girl and me. My anaesthetist explained to me that he should go to assist as well. The look on my face must have been shear horror. The girl explained that she would stay with me. Not that I could have gone anywhere. If I had moved a muscle I would have fallen off the table. Anxiety had been building through out the day and now this. I think my heart rate must have increased by about 40 beats per minute. I was on the verge of panic mode.

Soon everyone returned. No one said a thing; they just got on with their preparation. I was curious, but they acted as though nothing had happened. I wished they would hurry up and give me the anaesthetic. My anaesthetist then explained that the patient in the next operating theatre was having some problems. “There were some problems with his anaesthetic,” he said. My eyes jumped out of my head and my heart rate increased again. A needle was pushed into my hand, filling my veins with a cool fluid. It helped me relax. Again I tried to fight the anaesthetic and again I couldn’t. I let it have me. I was tired.

Again I flashed in and out of a dream before completely realising where I was. My leg was heavy. Strapped in half a plaster cast. This is called a back strap. It was late when I returned to the ward. The build up and anxiety of the day had got the better of me and I was out like a light. Sleeping wasn’t easy in hospital. My leg pined me down. Getting comfortable was difficult. Every four hours the nurse would wake me to refill the antibiotics and take my blood pressure. After this it would take me forever to get back to sleep.

My doctor returned in the morning to explain how the operation had gone. Apparently the wound was quite infected. So infected that he couldn’t stitch it closed. Underneath the back strap and bandages the back of my ankle was open. I could see my achillies if I looked hard enough. This felt a little strange. All of Friday was spent being filled with antibiotics. They would operate again on Saturday morning.