It's been a while. Calving finally eased but the hours on the farm haven't. October is Artifical Breeding month where we try to get all the animals in-calf to set up next season. It takes time out of our daily routine and because I'm the boss, I put my hand up for the really super stupid early morning starts. 2.15am, every morning for the whole month so if my spelling and grammer are awful, please cut me some slack. Normally I can handle the hours but this October is a bit different. This October I have a guy by the name of Jason Wheadon from Sweat, in Hamilton trying to kill me.
Jase is the trainer for the most magnificent Northern Knights, the New Zealand womans cricket team, Commonwealth Games star Joelle King and of course, me. He is a great guy who is always happy and cheerful to be around. He is also somewhat of a sadist. My days consist of either 90km bike rides, 50km rides backed up by 5km runs, 12-14km runs or just massive amounts of time in the pool. Some days I get the pleasure of doing more than one task. Now whilst I have lost a heap of weight, I am still carrying to much and this has a twofold effect on me. Firstly, it is harder for me to get through the workload because I'm carrying to much weight. Secondly, it means I am still hardly an athlete so the body takes far to long to recover.
I send Jase an email giving him my feedback on how the week has gone, how I'm training on some days for 3-4 hours. I'm expecting some kind of response filled with gushing words of praise. Instead I get "...wait till your training for 8 hours at a time..." and "...work harder..." and the gem "...the half Ironman is about the equivilent of 1/4 of the full Ironman..."
Wonderful
Now people often think they have it harder than everyone else. Either their job has more stress then anyone else's. Perhaps they think they work longer or harder than anyone else. Naturally I think my life is tougher than Wendz, I'm doing this program set up with a guy who has a love of pain, Wendz is 'just' 9 months pregnant. She is in all sorts of discomfort with bad eczema yet I still joke to her the only thing worse than being 9 months pregnant, is living with someone 9 months pregnant.
Wendz is still doing work around the house, she still fronts up every day after milking and inseminates our cows. She mows the lawns, cooks tea, cleans up after me, chases Cam around the house, chases me around the house imploring me to leave the toliet seat down, makes sure the place looks great when friends come for tea, cooks extra when other friends pop in on the same night for tea, reads to Cam, teaches Cam basic skills, handles his tantrums when something doesnt go to plan, makes the beds, hangs up the laundary, deals with her mothers daily phonecalls, makes sure my cycling clothes are washed for the next days ride, bakes for friends, bakes for me, you get the point. Short of wearing her undies on the outside of her clothes and saving the starving in africa, she gets through a lot, on a daily basis all the while totally covered in eczema brought on by the pregnancy. Did I mention I was difficult to live with and that our son has Autism? So as you can imagine, she is as full of sympathy for my aches and pains as Jase is. I'm starting to think they are colluding with each other.
Whilst I'm not pregnant, I wake up, I ache. I get in from the morning milking and I ache even more. I have a snooze and when I wake up, I still hurt. I go for a ride or a run and within 5 minutes, I'm beyond aching. And this is only after three weeks of reasonably serious training. I used to think I had a healthy music collection. Now I leave the music at home because it's surprising how quickly you can get sick of hearing every one of 1500 songs over and over again. Running or biking without music means I have lots of time to think. I spend time thinking about how Wendz manages all that she does all the while the baby is pushing on that nerve or kicking under the ribs and rolling lots. I try to tell myself that what I am doing is hard, that it takes mental toughness and everyday where I complete another of Jase's floggings is just further proof of that. Yet I start to realise that Wendz and indeed, all mothers of children in the ASD spectrum are just naturally tough. If your a Dad who is the chief caregiver, than I put you in the bracket as well.
You have to be tough. When you become a parent you have these dreams of how everything is going to turn out. Going to be an All Black, going to be a Doctor, going to make a great mark on Society. Defentely going to marry the daughter of Jessica Alba. People are commenting on how the baby looks cute in the little bootys knitted by nana and you are just not contemplating how things can go so no to script. For us, when Cam started to get to an age where he could start to impart his personaility on the family, he was forever upset at something. Wendz and I start to argue because of course, it must be the other parents fault. 'He is just badly behaved and spoilt, it's all your fault'. Or, 'you work to much and never spend any time with him, it's all your fault'. I reckon this is where Mum, or Dad, starts to build mental toughness. Your marridge is going to a place it hasnt been before and you have to handle that as well as handle the frustration of your child just not doing the things that other kids are. In our case, I had the farm as a release from the pressures of home. Wendz didnt.
The faily doctor says there might be something not quite right, we will get tests done, after of course, the 6 month waiting list. More mental toughness. Mum is dealing every day with a child that isnt responding to the ways we have been shown to parent. The sun comes up in the morning and sets in the evening and whilst inbetween you have plenty of happy times, frustration builds. Again, not letting this frustration become evident to Cam is just mental toughness coming to the fore.
One day, a group of specialists confirm your child falls under the spectrum. Even though we knew in our hearts this was coming, hearing the words for Wendz was still tough. But she picks herslef up, walks into the next room where Cam is playing and starts to deal with it, again showing real strength. You say to yourself it could be worse, this will make life difficult for him but it won't kill him. Wendz deals with hurtful comments from some ignorant 'friends' and family that the environment you have raised your child in is what has caused it. You deal with stares from people in the supermarket whose eyes just convey such a feeling of disdain for you as a parent as Cam is having a meltdown. All this just builds more mental toughness. More resiliance and a deeper love for our son. I'm not sure how other parents handle it, I suspect its quite similiar for most.
People come up to me and say what I am doing is great. What I am doing isn't great. I follow a program all set out for me by Jase. If I stick to it I will finish the Ironman and hopefully later in life , Cam can take something from that. It's pretty simple really. The real Ironman is the Mum or Dad that raises our children and deals with the highs and lows of Autism every single day. They have people like Estelle Pretorius and Anna Dekker who help and these people are magnificent but their plans arent as clearcut as a training program. There are to many variables that cant be planned for. At the end of of 3 or 4 or even an 8 hour training session, I can go into recovery for the next day, play with Cam and get the best of both worlds. For Wendz, the training session isnt a defined period of time, its from sunup to sundown, every single day.
I'm doing the Ironman for Cam because it's my way of trying to let people know that Autism doesnt have to be something to be embarrassed of and hopefully people can see how great our kids are. People say when it gets tough you can use Cam for inspiration and in part thats true but the real inspiration comes from the mentally toughest person I know, my wife.
Sunday, October 17, 2010
Can You Help
Right, this Ironman thing is starting to kick into gear.
I'm training like a nutter and the media commitments are just starting.
Now the aim of all this is to increase awareness of living with Autism and Aspergers, although our son doesnt have Aspergers, I hope to be able to help both causes. But another goal can be to use this media exposure to raise some money to help a family in a way that will make a real difference to the quality of their life. We have Autism New Zealand support and indeed, they will handle any funds raised but it would be nice to develop a target.
If you know of a family that may benefit from the purchase of a specially trained dog to help their child can you please either email me on wendyandjason@farmside.co.nz or ring/text me on 0211532779. It would be nice to be able to have a specific family or even families in mind to know who I'm busting my butt for.
Cheers
Jase.
I'm training like a nutter and the media commitments are just starting.
Now the aim of all this is to increase awareness of living with Autism and Aspergers, although our son doesnt have Aspergers, I hope to be able to help both causes. But another goal can be to use this media exposure to raise some money to help a family in a way that will make a real difference to the quality of their life. We have Autism New Zealand support and indeed, they will handle any funds raised but it would be nice to develop a target.
If you know of a family that may benefit from the purchase of a specially trained dog to help their child can you please either email me on wendyandjason@farmside.co.nz or ring/text me on 0211532779. It would be nice to be able to have a specific family or even families in mind to know who I'm busting my butt for.
Cheers
Jase.
Friday, August 6, 2010
The Friendship Jigsaw
The worst holiday in the history of the world happened to me. No one died let alone got hurt or sick. Our luggage was never lost and we weren't robbed of our valuables. I didn't have the mother in law to contend with. I didn't have to sit in circles holding hands with strangers whilst singing kumbaya. We weren't stuck in an airport and we weren't caught in any natural disasters. No, my holiday was worse than any of those possibilities.
In the middle of a cold dreary winter, by a beach with no surf, in a house with no t.v or books, I was stuck with the better half doing a jigsaw puzzle for 3 days.
A bloody jigsaw puzzle. 1000 pieces of some eastern european countryside. 990 of those pieces all seemingly the same shade of dull green. I couldn't see the point. If I wanted to look at a pretty picture I would just cut the cover off the box and pin it to the wall. I mean the picture was right there, we spent 3 days trying to create a picture that we were looking at the whole time. Jigsaw puzzles belong in the darkest recesses of your grandmothers wardrobe, a throwback from the days of no electricity, no telephone and no sex before marriage. There was nothing else to do other than cut up a nice picture and spend hours trying to make it look half as good as it was before being vilified.
The only gift required to fulfil this hobby is having no life so that nothing exciting can pull you away from the task. Truth be told, a lot of situations in life are like a jigsaw puzzle. You try and get all the parts to fit together to give you something whole. Friendships are like that. You try to surround yourself with people whose company you enjoy and with whom you have a mutual desire to see each other happy. Different friends make up different parts of the puzzle but they are all important to complete the picture, you or me.
I can't remember my first friend. I was trying to think of who it would have been and the best I could come up with was a boy who used to wear a blue tshirt at kindergarten. What his name was, well I have no idea but if he's reading this I do apologise for hogging the tonka truck and making him cry 31 years ago. As I've moved through life, friends and really close friends have moved too. Some you move on from, some friendships fail because you make a mistake and don't know how to say sorry and some stay; they are always there through good times and bad. Having a child, who at first just seems badly behaved, and then later you are told has autism, is one of those bad times and then as the cliche goes, you find out who your true mates are.
Some people either don't like being around when your child is prone to bouts of frustration or they feel awkward and as such, try not to be around for fear of such an episode. Gradually, they will stop visiting, stop ringing and certainly don't ask you around for tea anymore. Before you know it, your circle of friends halves because it can be tough being friends with a family with Autism. Since Cam has been diagnosed, we have been fortunate enough to meet other people in similar situations and they are great people who have the added bonus of empathy for what the tough times can be like and how the good times make it all so worthwhile. Also through my rather sycophantic obsession with cricket and Northern Districts, we have been lucky to make friends with people who just have empathy for everyone, us included.
One decided to come running with me, to try and help me get through the initial pain barrier of my first couple of events. I was told once the greatest gift you could give was your time and he has certainly done that in abundance. The other people that spring to mind could be seen as being quite different. One is a shoe fanatic and the other is a fanatic for shoe fanatics. They care about Cam and understand that sudden changes or surprises can be upsetting. And yet, knowing this, they have invited us to go out for tea with them tomorrow night and to bring Cam.
Taking Cam out to tea to a restaurant would normally strike fear into me. I'd rather go for a drive in a car with the mother in law and talk about feelings such is the unease I would feel. However, they must have anticipated this as they suggested to meet a bit earlier so as to give him time to adjust.
So we are going and I know that all will be fine because if he is having a bad night, they won't let it affect ours or their enjoyment. I don't do serious very well. I don't do appreciation very well and I certainly don't do jigsaw puzzles very well. But I have come to realise that in life, our own jigsaw puzzle evolves and how we would like things to look changes. We feel lucky that as we go along, we are finding the right pieces to complement and complete what we already have.
In the middle of a cold dreary winter, by a beach with no surf, in a house with no t.v or books, I was stuck with the better half doing a jigsaw puzzle for 3 days.
A bloody jigsaw puzzle. 1000 pieces of some eastern european countryside. 990 of those pieces all seemingly the same shade of dull green. I couldn't see the point. If I wanted to look at a pretty picture I would just cut the cover off the box and pin it to the wall. I mean the picture was right there, we spent 3 days trying to create a picture that we were looking at the whole time. Jigsaw puzzles belong in the darkest recesses of your grandmothers wardrobe, a throwback from the days of no electricity, no telephone and no sex before marriage. There was nothing else to do other than cut up a nice picture and spend hours trying to make it look half as good as it was before being vilified.
The only gift required to fulfil this hobby is having no life so that nothing exciting can pull you away from the task. Truth be told, a lot of situations in life are like a jigsaw puzzle. You try and get all the parts to fit together to give you something whole. Friendships are like that. You try to surround yourself with people whose company you enjoy and with whom you have a mutual desire to see each other happy. Different friends make up different parts of the puzzle but they are all important to complete the picture, you or me.
I can't remember my first friend. I was trying to think of who it would have been and the best I could come up with was a boy who used to wear a blue tshirt at kindergarten. What his name was, well I have no idea but if he's reading this I do apologise for hogging the tonka truck and making him cry 31 years ago. As I've moved through life, friends and really close friends have moved too. Some you move on from, some friendships fail because you make a mistake and don't know how to say sorry and some stay; they are always there through good times and bad. Having a child, who at first just seems badly behaved, and then later you are told has autism, is one of those bad times and then as the cliche goes, you find out who your true mates are.
Some people either don't like being around when your child is prone to bouts of frustration or they feel awkward and as such, try not to be around for fear of such an episode. Gradually, they will stop visiting, stop ringing and certainly don't ask you around for tea anymore. Before you know it, your circle of friends halves because it can be tough being friends with a family with Autism. Since Cam has been diagnosed, we have been fortunate enough to meet other people in similar situations and they are great people who have the added bonus of empathy for what the tough times can be like and how the good times make it all so worthwhile. Also through my rather sycophantic obsession with cricket and Northern Districts, we have been lucky to make friends with people who just have empathy for everyone, us included.
One decided to come running with me, to try and help me get through the initial pain barrier of my first couple of events. I was told once the greatest gift you could give was your time and he has certainly done that in abundance. The other people that spring to mind could be seen as being quite different. One is a shoe fanatic and the other is a fanatic for shoe fanatics. They care about Cam and understand that sudden changes or surprises can be upsetting. And yet, knowing this, they have invited us to go out for tea with them tomorrow night and to bring Cam.
Taking Cam out to tea to a restaurant would normally strike fear into me. I'd rather go for a drive in a car with the mother in law and talk about feelings such is the unease I would feel. However, they must have anticipated this as they suggested to meet a bit earlier so as to give him time to adjust.
So we are going and I know that all will be fine because if he is having a bad night, they won't let it affect ours or their enjoyment. I don't do serious very well. I don't do appreciation very well and I certainly don't do jigsaw puzzles very well. But I have come to realise that in life, our own jigsaw puzzle evolves and how we would like things to look changes. We feel lucky that as we go along, we are finding the right pieces to complement and complete what we already have.
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
Whats my role?
Calving. The deep abyss that dairy farmers dissapear into for what seems an inordinate amount of time. Approximately 8 weeks straight, every single day starting at a rather uncilivilised time, anytime you have to set your alarm clock for a time starting with either a 3 or 4 is uncilivilised. And on a good day you finish in time to watch the news, a bad day, well dont ask. I once went to Mexico on a ship with a crew from the Phillipines and they had a saying 'Every day's Monday'. And thats kind of what calving is like, only instead of a sea of crystal clear salt water to gaze out upon, I have a sea of mud, mud, mud, effluent and more mud and this sea isnt so romantic.
I'll tell you what else isnt romantic at this time of year, going for training runs at the end of 15 hour days. Nor is the thought of sitting my backside on a painfully thin bike seat at the end of the day. Actually, romance it'self or rather 'business time' also isnt so romantic during this period. That could explain why very few children of farmers are born in the months of April/May. Wendz is expecting our second addition to the family in November, I think it's November 14 but who knows, I've yet to meet a father who really remembers dates like these. Clearly, it's safe to say that nine months prior to that date, we had no cows calving. It's also safe to say that the cows in the paddock aren't pestering the father in question for names for their offspring.
Why, in the middle of the busiest time of the year, 3-4 months out from the due date is finding a sutible name for our baby a pressing concern?
Well that is just how things can be a bit different, when you have a champion little boy with autism. You see Cam doesnt handle change or surprises very well. We would rather have not discovered the sex, shes a girl! However, Cam had it set in his mind that he would be having a wee sister and would hear nothing of it being a boy. Thus we felt it was best to know so that we could prepare him in case he was getting a brother. And of course, a name is essential in this process. Wendz, being the sensible one, picks all the nice names to choose from, Isla, Lily, Alyssa and there were others but during All Black season, I dont really listen that well. Naturally, I exclude the names of ex girlfriends, girls that shunned me at some stage of my life for a Brad Pitt and all other names that sound wholesome and sweet while trying to focus on some names that come with certain stereotypes. Stereotypes that are gauranteed to get a reaction from my dear wife.
Apologies in advance if you bear a name of exotic origins, no offence is intended but I felt Porsche, Mercedes or even Candi were worthwhile mentions for no other reasons than I would get the desired reaction from Wendz. And when Mum growls at Dad, Cam laughs so of course, I keep fishing for bites from Mum to get more laughs from Cam. We,(her) have decided on a name and a week ago, if you asked Cam who was in Mummys tummy, he could tell you. But I adopted Porsche and would constantly deny the intended name, much to Mum's protest and shout out 'Porsche' Now Cam kind of thinks his sister is going to be named after a sports car or a stripper, depending on if your from Remuera or Hamilton. And in doing so, I have, to a degree, undone the good intentions of mum. So that lead me to thinking, 'whats my role'?
I broke the role of a Dad down to 5 core tasks.
1. Teach the little bugger to drive
2. Make him laugh lots.
3. Teach him how to carry a rugby ball with both hands in front of him.
4. Teach him when to play the back foot cover drive to a left arm pace bowler and...
5. Ensure he grows up with respect for Mum and does what she says.
The rest, toliet training, making his bed, cleaning up, manners, mowing the lawns, brushing his teeth, cleaning behind his ears, blah blah blah are all Mums domain. Of course, in any family where the children dont have extra burdons placed upon them, my ideas on being a father do not pay enough respect to the role. In a family like ours, well it's fair to say some things have to change.
There are a lot of courses avalible to parents of children with disabilities. You can learn different methods of teaching to a 'disabled' child, how to handle your child if they are having a bad day and how to help them adjust to different social settings. I'm pretty sure though, that there were no courses on how to handle the balance of seeing your son at the end of a long day, when your dogtired and you just want to have some fun with him without confusing simple issues. Sometimes you just learn by trial and error and hope that the errors arent to significant to fix. After all, thats what Mums are for...kidding.
As you might have guessed, training is tough at the moment, its not happening as often as it needs to and it's not being performed at the quality it needs to. Joey Yovich said to me once that sleep was overrated, it might be time to take that advice and just work harder for the next two months as I want to exceed expectations. Every day might be Monday on the farm but it's easier than having Autism.
I'll tell you what else isnt romantic at this time of year, going for training runs at the end of 15 hour days. Nor is the thought of sitting my backside on a painfully thin bike seat at the end of the day. Actually, romance it'self or rather 'business time' also isnt so romantic during this period. That could explain why very few children of farmers are born in the months of April/May. Wendz is expecting our second addition to the family in November, I think it's November 14 but who knows, I've yet to meet a father who really remembers dates like these. Clearly, it's safe to say that nine months prior to that date, we had no cows calving. It's also safe to say that the cows in the paddock aren't pestering the father in question for names for their offspring.
Why, in the middle of the busiest time of the year, 3-4 months out from the due date is finding a sutible name for our baby a pressing concern?
Well that is just how things can be a bit different, when you have a champion little boy with autism. You see Cam doesnt handle change or surprises very well. We would rather have not discovered the sex, shes a girl! However, Cam had it set in his mind that he would be having a wee sister and would hear nothing of it being a boy. Thus we felt it was best to know so that we could prepare him in case he was getting a brother. And of course, a name is essential in this process. Wendz, being the sensible one, picks all the nice names to choose from, Isla, Lily, Alyssa and there were others but during All Black season, I dont really listen that well. Naturally, I exclude the names of ex girlfriends, girls that shunned me at some stage of my life for a Brad Pitt and all other names that sound wholesome and sweet while trying to focus on some names that come with certain stereotypes. Stereotypes that are gauranteed to get a reaction from my dear wife.
Apologies in advance if you bear a name of exotic origins, no offence is intended but I felt Porsche, Mercedes or even Candi were worthwhile mentions for no other reasons than I would get the desired reaction from Wendz. And when Mum growls at Dad, Cam laughs so of course, I keep fishing for bites from Mum to get more laughs from Cam. We,(her) have decided on a name and a week ago, if you asked Cam who was in Mummys tummy, he could tell you. But I adopted Porsche and would constantly deny the intended name, much to Mum's protest and shout out 'Porsche' Now Cam kind of thinks his sister is going to be named after a sports car or a stripper, depending on if your from Remuera or Hamilton. And in doing so, I have, to a degree, undone the good intentions of mum. So that lead me to thinking, 'whats my role'?
I broke the role of a Dad down to 5 core tasks.
1. Teach the little bugger to drive
2. Make him laugh lots.
3. Teach him how to carry a rugby ball with both hands in front of him.
4. Teach him when to play the back foot cover drive to a left arm pace bowler and...
5. Ensure he grows up with respect for Mum and does what she says.
The rest, toliet training, making his bed, cleaning up, manners, mowing the lawns, brushing his teeth, cleaning behind his ears, blah blah blah are all Mums domain. Of course, in any family where the children dont have extra burdons placed upon them, my ideas on being a father do not pay enough respect to the role. In a family like ours, well it's fair to say some things have to change.
There are a lot of courses avalible to parents of children with disabilities. You can learn different methods of teaching to a 'disabled' child, how to handle your child if they are having a bad day and how to help them adjust to different social settings. I'm pretty sure though, that there were no courses on how to handle the balance of seeing your son at the end of a long day, when your dogtired and you just want to have some fun with him without confusing simple issues. Sometimes you just learn by trial and error and hope that the errors arent to significant to fix. After all, thats what Mums are for...kidding.
As you might have guessed, training is tough at the moment, its not happening as often as it needs to and it's not being performed at the quality it needs to. Joey Yovich said to me once that sleep was overrated, it might be time to take that advice and just work harder for the next two months as I want to exceed expectations. Every day might be Monday on the farm but it's easier than having Autism.
Sunday, June 20, 2010
7 Weeks + 130kms + 2 half Marathons + Loss of 2 Sizes
Well Hey, the title says it all really. Seven weeks ago we decided to start training for the New Zealand Ironman next march and by training, I really mean losing enough weight so that I could actually fit some of the clothes that I might train in. As we know, the Huntly half was a struggle so the next four weeks would need a change of plans or else I would damm near kill myself.
The first step, buy a book written by John Ackland on running half marathons. To be fair, it was the only book I found on the subject however I walked out of the local book store with all the giddy excitement of a teenage boy whose just got the keys to dads car for the first time. This book would guide me, lead me to the promised land. I would read it from cover to cover and faithfully execute all that was set for me without question. Well that was the plan, until I realised that this book was a 12 week program for running your first half marathon. I had just done one in 3 weeks, all be it, not very well, and was going to do my second in 4 weeks. So rather arrogantly, I preceeded to turn Mr Acklands 12 week program into a 4 week effort.
I also noticed that it was quite alright to not run every day, in fact allowing the body to recover would be essential to improve my performance.
"That'll do me" I thought. I had run every day since starting and the thought of a night off certainly rocked my world. And hey, I figured that if I had a night off, I could 'rock' Wendys world, so to speak. All this running made for me to be a very tired lad so rather than tell her, I would surprise her when it came time to turn the lights out. Meanwhile, throughout all this time, Wendz had been running the home, pretty much on her own. Dealing with Cams good days and bad days and during this time, trying to give him a haircut made for some bad days. One of the problems Autistic kids can have is they might not like change, change in daily routines, change in social settings and certainly, change in appearance. You cant explain to Cam that cutting your hair is natural, he's not yet capable of reasoning these things so in times like these, Mum needs to get creative and tonight, creative was going to be the Kryptonite to my plans of rocking worlds.
Dearest Wendz, not knowing my plans, takes Cam to bed with her to get him to sleep in a room where she can get good access to light once hes out with the fairies.
She patiently waits for him to nod off and then sets about giving him a haircut where he sleeps, on my side of the bed....picks him up and delivers him to to his own room, turns the lights out and retires for the night. Meanwhile, I have a shave, slap on some aftershave and ease my way under the sheets, ready to cash in like the night I first got the keys to Dads car. My pillowcase feels a bit funny but what the hey, it's 'business time'. In an effort to wake Wendz up I roll over, right into a pile of curly red hair. Of course, I would have my mouth open enough to inhale a fair chunk of said hair. Wendz wakes up, not to me cuddling up to her but to me choking half to death. Lights come on, words said, I spend half an hour trying to rinse the hair from between my teeth and out of my throat and I'm left thinking I need to be more attentitive when Wendz is telling me about daily issues with the little man. She'd been tired and has forgotten to clean up the hair clippings. I would have known this had I listened better...
Since then I worked on using John Acklands abbreviated program. Running greater distances less often. I'm learning to love hills, now I'm going out of my way to find some hills to run up. I also learnt to better plan 'days off'. I took on board his advice on how to tackle the run and so I approached the Te Awamutu Half as just another training run with some small goals. The run was yesterday and given the amount of rain we had, I was sure that I'd see Noah drifting past on a bloody long wooden boat. Of Course, in spite of the torrential rain, Bradley Scott arived, full of energy and positive intent. We did the run, just over 2 hours, achieved all the goals in terms of wanting to try different things and easily came within the top 50 of the event and I swear, there was at least 51 people entered.
So thats it, seven weeks in and a few lessons learnt. I've gone from an XL tracksuit to a Medium. I've learnt that I need to pace myself better with my workload and I've certainly realised that as much as I'm a father of fantastic boy with Autism, there is a lot about living with him day to day that I dont fully comprehend.
Stu Gudsell from Te Awamutu, father to professional cyclist Tim Gudsell, heard about what we are trying to do and has offered his services to try and help us get a bike to ride. We are hoping that a major bike retailer will jump on board. Jase Wheadon, trainer of the all conquering Knights has offered to help me with a proper training program for IMNZ so its all starting to come together. Now that we have a few things in order, I will update progress every 2 to 3 days as now I have people who are providing support that are deserving of greater recognition.
Thanks for reading, thanks for showing an interest and if anyone wants to know anything more or would like me to mention something either email me on wendyandjason@farmside.co.nz or try 0276620050
Cheers
The first step, buy a book written by John Ackland on running half marathons. To be fair, it was the only book I found on the subject however I walked out of the local book store with all the giddy excitement of a teenage boy whose just got the keys to dads car for the first time. This book would guide me, lead me to the promised land. I would read it from cover to cover and faithfully execute all that was set for me without question. Well that was the plan, until I realised that this book was a 12 week program for running your first half marathon. I had just done one in 3 weeks, all be it, not very well, and was going to do my second in 4 weeks. So rather arrogantly, I preceeded to turn Mr Acklands 12 week program into a 4 week effort.
I also noticed that it was quite alright to not run every day, in fact allowing the body to recover would be essential to improve my performance.
"That'll do me" I thought. I had run every day since starting and the thought of a night off certainly rocked my world. And hey, I figured that if I had a night off, I could 'rock' Wendys world, so to speak. All this running made for me to be a very tired lad so rather than tell her, I would surprise her when it came time to turn the lights out. Meanwhile, throughout all this time, Wendz had been running the home, pretty much on her own. Dealing with Cams good days and bad days and during this time, trying to give him a haircut made for some bad days. One of the problems Autistic kids can have is they might not like change, change in daily routines, change in social settings and certainly, change in appearance. You cant explain to Cam that cutting your hair is natural, he's not yet capable of reasoning these things so in times like these, Mum needs to get creative and tonight, creative was going to be the Kryptonite to my plans of rocking worlds.
Dearest Wendz, not knowing my plans, takes Cam to bed with her to get him to sleep in a room where she can get good access to light once hes out with the fairies.
She patiently waits for him to nod off and then sets about giving him a haircut where he sleeps, on my side of the bed....picks him up and delivers him to to his own room, turns the lights out and retires for the night. Meanwhile, I have a shave, slap on some aftershave and ease my way under the sheets, ready to cash in like the night I first got the keys to Dads car. My pillowcase feels a bit funny but what the hey, it's 'business time'. In an effort to wake Wendz up I roll over, right into a pile of curly red hair. Of course, I would have my mouth open enough to inhale a fair chunk of said hair. Wendz wakes up, not to me cuddling up to her but to me choking half to death. Lights come on, words said, I spend half an hour trying to rinse the hair from between my teeth and out of my throat and I'm left thinking I need to be more attentitive when Wendz is telling me about daily issues with the little man. She'd been tired and has forgotten to clean up the hair clippings. I would have known this had I listened better...
Since then I worked on using John Acklands abbreviated program. Running greater distances less often. I'm learning to love hills, now I'm going out of my way to find some hills to run up. I also learnt to better plan 'days off'. I took on board his advice on how to tackle the run and so I approached the Te Awamutu Half as just another training run with some small goals. The run was yesterday and given the amount of rain we had, I was sure that I'd see Noah drifting past on a bloody long wooden boat. Of Course, in spite of the torrential rain, Bradley Scott arived, full of energy and positive intent. We did the run, just over 2 hours, achieved all the goals in terms of wanting to try different things and easily came within the top 50 of the event and I swear, there was at least 51 people entered.
So thats it, seven weeks in and a few lessons learnt. I've gone from an XL tracksuit to a Medium. I've learnt that I need to pace myself better with my workload and I've certainly realised that as much as I'm a father of fantastic boy with Autism, there is a lot about living with him day to day that I dont fully comprehend.
Stu Gudsell from Te Awamutu, father to professional cyclist Tim Gudsell, heard about what we are trying to do and has offered his services to try and help us get a bike to ride. We are hoping that a major bike retailer will jump on board. Jase Wheadon, trainer of the all conquering Knights has offered to help me with a proper training program for IMNZ so its all starting to come together. Now that we have a few things in order, I will update progress every 2 to 3 days as now I have people who are providing support that are deserving of greater recognition.
Thanks for reading, thanks for showing an interest and if anyone wants to know anything more or would like me to mention something either email me on wendyandjason@farmside.co.nz or try 0276620050
Cheers
Thursday, May 27, 2010
We're In!!!!
Well, it has been a very long two weeks since the first post. IronMan New Zealand had sold out and so we had to go through a process of trying to get an entry approved.
Ian Hepenstall, the media manager for IMNZ said if I could come up with a media plan on how we could promote this adventure and thus, try and get the story of Autism out there, then IMNZ may consider giving an opportunity to enter. And therein started the task of door knocking, phone calling and favour collecting and then within the first week, we had ourselves a media plan.
Radiosport were the first port of call and came to the party in a big way. Once a month I will be spoken to by Darcy and Mark on the morning breakfast slot reviewing my training progress. They also will be talking to people I train with and they will give Autism NZ a couple of cracks in the next few months to just chat about life with Autism. In the month leading up to the event they will have me on weekly.
Mark Watson who is the nightsport host has also said he will cover my progress frequently. Then we have Jamie McKay from the Farming Show. Jamie was outstanding and suggested we start straight away and get me on air before I run the Huntly Half. So just like that, he interviewed me on the farming show and we were on our way. Of course, I had to call on All Black, Olympic and Commonwealth Games commentator and all round good guy, Nigel Yalden. Nigel has a weekly show on NewstalkZB from 8-9am on a saturday morning where he covers all things locally on the sporting scene. Nigel was eager to help and a regular slot on his show ment we pretty much had radio media on board and no one said no which was very pleasing.
Margot Butcher provided me with some contacts within print media. Thankfully, David Leggat from the NZ Herald is going to help out which gives us exposure in our most widely read newspaper. Graeme Blake from PanMedia said he would help us with some contacts for advertising/exposure and this was all rounded off by recieving support and enthusiasm from Allison and Jon from Autism NZ. All we could do now was wait to hear from IMNZ. Oh, and of course run. And run some more. Then when that was done we had time to run a bit more again before doing the Huntly Half. And then when that was done we could get back to more running. Theres a trend developing here, can anyone pick it?
The Huntly Half was both good and bad. On little more than 2 1/2 weeks training, I had set myself the target of going under two hours. With Bradley Scotts constant encouragement, I finished but fell short of my target by ten minutes. My Physio, Shane has tried to correct my running technique so that I wont have constant battles with pain in my shins. It works but it still doesnt come naturally to me so I am constantly having to tell myself to lean forward otherwise old habits creep in.
The start was awful, the top runners who were there for the NZ half marathon champs, you could clearly tell from everyone else. The giveaway was that these people didnt look like they had trained at McDonalds. These athletes went right to the front of the startline. Everyone else more or less morphed into a crowd of far to tight lycra and skins clothing and Ipods. So Bradley and I were left trying to figure out where the runners finished and the walkers started. And we got it wrong which ment when the start gun went off, we were surrounded by hundreds of walkers and slow joggers. Our first km was spent trying to navigate our way to some clear running space and so took forever. In spite of that we made good time to run 10 kms in something like 54-55 minutes. But then my running style went to custard and the old shins problem kicked in. Bradley was great and I have no doubt it was his presence that got me to the end, all be it ten minutes slower then I had planned.
Crossing the finish line was odd. I had neither a sence of relief nor dissapointment. All I could think was that I had just finished the first step on my way to doing the IronMan. Yet I didnt know if I would be in the IronMan. I did know I was hungary and I really didnt think I was that sore although getting out of bed the next morning changed that idea.
I learnt alot. I learnt that drinking enough water till you need to pee is one thing, drinking enough water to make you need to go every 8 seconds is another. I learnt that I would get hungary about 12-13kms and absolutely starving by 17kms. I learnt that 21kms is a looooooong way and thats only half of what I'll have to run in the ironman.
However, easily the most important thing I learnt was how long this year will be for Wendy. Her day was twice as long as mine. Cam wasnt having a good day waiting for Dad to do this run and he got frustrated for whatever reason while Wendy grew tired and equally frustrated by Cams inability to communicate what he was wanting. A 4 1/2 year old boy is to big and heavy to just be able to sit on your lap and so Wendz had 2 hours of trying to calm Cam and get him to accept the situation they were in. Meanwhile people are looking on and no doubt thinking what a naughty little boy he was when in actual fact he wasnt being naughty at all.
The result of this is that I will try and do as much of my running at night as possible and to try and get more people involved in this epic adventure, we have heeded a friends advice and started leaving small video clips on youtube. The first of this was done this week just gone so if you go to youtube.com and type in ironmanforcam, you can get a weekly update there as well.
The next three weeks will consist of me working towards the Te Awamutu Half Marathon on June 20. Bradley and I feel there is unfinished business regarding the time we ran so want to jump back onto the horse. A horse that is now as of yesterday afternoon, running all the way to Ironman New Zealand next March. Ian Hepenstall rang yesterday to say that while Cystic Fibrosis is IMNZ's official charity, they have great empathy with what is trying to be achieved here and so would like to support an entry into their great event. So now the focus switches to trying to sniff out a bike to use and sourcing some accomodation for a week in Taupo. Oh, and of course running plenty of miles.
If anyone here has any ideas for music to run to, I'm all ears. I have a wide and varied collection but would welcome any suggestions.
Cheers for tuning in.
Ian Hepenstall, the media manager for IMNZ said if I could come up with a media plan on how we could promote this adventure and thus, try and get the story of Autism out there, then IMNZ may consider giving an opportunity to enter. And therein started the task of door knocking, phone calling and favour collecting and then within the first week, we had ourselves a media plan.
Radiosport were the first port of call and came to the party in a big way. Once a month I will be spoken to by Darcy and Mark on the morning breakfast slot reviewing my training progress. They also will be talking to people I train with and they will give Autism NZ a couple of cracks in the next few months to just chat about life with Autism. In the month leading up to the event they will have me on weekly.
Mark Watson who is the nightsport host has also said he will cover my progress frequently. Then we have Jamie McKay from the Farming Show. Jamie was outstanding and suggested we start straight away and get me on air before I run the Huntly Half. So just like that, he interviewed me on the farming show and we were on our way. Of course, I had to call on All Black, Olympic and Commonwealth Games commentator and all round good guy, Nigel Yalden. Nigel has a weekly show on NewstalkZB from 8-9am on a saturday morning where he covers all things locally on the sporting scene. Nigel was eager to help and a regular slot on his show ment we pretty much had radio media on board and no one said no which was very pleasing.
Margot Butcher provided me with some contacts within print media. Thankfully, David Leggat from the NZ Herald is going to help out which gives us exposure in our most widely read newspaper. Graeme Blake from PanMedia said he would help us with some contacts for advertising/exposure and this was all rounded off by recieving support and enthusiasm from Allison and Jon from Autism NZ. All we could do now was wait to hear from IMNZ. Oh, and of course run. And run some more. Then when that was done we had time to run a bit more again before doing the Huntly Half. And then when that was done we could get back to more running. Theres a trend developing here, can anyone pick it?
The Huntly Half was both good and bad. On little more than 2 1/2 weeks training, I had set myself the target of going under two hours. With Bradley Scotts constant encouragement, I finished but fell short of my target by ten minutes. My Physio, Shane has tried to correct my running technique so that I wont have constant battles with pain in my shins. It works but it still doesnt come naturally to me so I am constantly having to tell myself to lean forward otherwise old habits creep in.
The start was awful, the top runners who were there for the NZ half marathon champs, you could clearly tell from everyone else. The giveaway was that these people didnt look like they had trained at McDonalds. These athletes went right to the front of the startline. Everyone else more or less morphed into a crowd of far to tight lycra and skins clothing and Ipods. So Bradley and I were left trying to figure out where the runners finished and the walkers started. And we got it wrong which ment when the start gun went off, we were surrounded by hundreds of walkers and slow joggers. Our first km was spent trying to navigate our way to some clear running space and so took forever. In spite of that we made good time to run 10 kms in something like 54-55 minutes. But then my running style went to custard and the old shins problem kicked in. Bradley was great and I have no doubt it was his presence that got me to the end, all be it ten minutes slower then I had planned.
Crossing the finish line was odd. I had neither a sence of relief nor dissapointment. All I could think was that I had just finished the first step on my way to doing the IronMan. Yet I didnt know if I would be in the IronMan. I did know I was hungary and I really didnt think I was that sore although getting out of bed the next morning changed that idea.
I learnt alot. I learnt that drinking enough water till you need to pee is one thing, drinking enough water to make you need to go every 8 seconds is another. I learnt that I would get hungary about 12-13kms and absolutely starving by 17kms. I learnt that 21kms is a looooooong way and thats only half of what I'll have to run in the ironman.
However, easily the most important thing I learnt was how long this year will be for Wendy. Her day was twice as long as mine. Cam wasnt having a good day waiting for Dad to do this run and he got frustrated for whatever reason while Wendy grew tired and equally frustrated by Cams inability to communicate what he was wanting. A 4 1/2 year old boy is to big and heavy to just be able to sit on your lap and so Wendz had 2 hours of trying to calm Cam and get him to accept the situation they were in. Meanwhile people are looking on and no doubt thinking what a naughty little boy he was when in actual fact he wasnt being naughty at all.
The result of this is that I will try and do as much of my running at night as possible and to try and get more people involved in this epic adventure, we have heeded a friends advice and started leaving small video clips on youtube. The first of this was done this week just gone so if you go to youtube.com and type in ironmanforcam, you can get a weekly update there as well.
The next three weeks will consist of me working towards the Te Awamutu Half Marathon on June 20. Bradley and I feel there is unfinished business regarding the time we ran so want to jump back onto the horse. A horse that is now as of yesterday afternoon, running all the way to Ironman New Zealand next March. Ian Hepenstall rang yesterday to say that while Cystic Fibrosis is IMNZ's official charity, they have great empathy with what is trying to be achieved here and so would like to support an entry into their great event. So now the focus switches to trying to sniff out a bike to use and sourcing some accomodation for a week in Taupo. Oh, and of course running plenty of miles.
If anyone here has any ideas for music to run to, I'm all ears. I have a wide and varied collection but would welcome any suggestions.
Cheers for tuning in.
Saturday, May 8, 2010
The Start of something Big, Painful and hopefully, Fufilling
Saturday March 5, 2011. 299 days or rather, 2 days shy of 43 weeks away.
That’s how long I have to prepare for my first ever (and probably last), Ironman. I have never run a marathon, indeed the Tuesday just gone was the first time I had ever run over 10kms in one run. I can’t swim more than about 300 metres without feeling like I am about to die so 3.8kms in a cold lake surrounded by 1499 other swimmers scares the crap out of me. Oh, and then there is the small matter of 180kms on a bike. This maybe the most soul destroying part of the day. The immense pain in the legs and the exhaustion of my lungs will pail into insignificance when compared to the gloom of going through Reperoa not once but twice.
What propels someone who is hardly an athlete, let alone an elite athlete to endure such self inflicted punishment?
Well there are a few reasons, some noble, some not so. Firstly, there is the need to satisfy my ego that I have the mental and physical strength to do it. I want to believe I can but won’t ever really know unless I put myself through the process.
There is also the matter of wanting to find a recreational pursuit that doesn’t involve the drinking of copious amounts of beer. Presently I weigh 95kgs which puts me at least 10 kilos overweight. The strain this puts on my back hinders my ability to do a heavy manual job such as farming. Not to mention the fact that Wendy being pregnant should be the only one to not see her toes in the house. If I don’t change my lifestyle, we will be moving her pregnancy clothes to my wardrobe once she has the baby.
These all pail into insignificance though. when I see the overwelming source of my motivation. Cam Jim Uden. When we were expecting him, I would have these daydreams about how our son (the thought that we could have a girl never entered my mind), would grow to be captain of the All Blacks as a blockbusting number 8. That lofty deed however would only be realised after he had scored a brilliant triple hundred at the MCG to singlehandedly clinch a series win against the aussie’s. Maybe not quite singlehandedly, Kane Williamson could be at the other end, also unbeaten. His would be a glorious sporting career at the conclusion of which, he would cure world hunger and bring peace to the middle east.
And then he’s born and for a brief period of time, I'm just stoked that he has ten fingers and toes. As he grows older I start to lose grip with reality again, the first time I drop him and he doesn’t cry I think quietly to myself that I'm, sure Buck Shelford had the same toughness at 3 weeks old. Then the first time he holds something I see the obvious eye hand talent that will be required. And naturally, the tantrum that is thrown when something doesn’t quite go to plan is just the necessary selfishness required for sporting success coming to the surface. But it wasn’t, it was the signs of Autism coming to the surface and earlier this year, he was diagnosed as having Autism Spectrum Disorder.
Suddenly, all my shallow dreams for Cam to live the sporting life I had always desired were irrelevant. Whilst Wendy had always had things such as learning to count, read and of course, communicate as the number one accomplishments to achieve, I suddenly had to get on board. We are fortunate that Cams battles with these things that most people take for granted, will not be as great as for many other children with Autism and long term, he will very likely lead a life as independent as the one you or I lead. He may well grow to achieve the great sporting deeds but those things are really unimportant. It will be for him to choose his own path in life.
It will be for Wendy and I to give him the belief that he can do anything and this is where the Ironman kicks in. My biggest wish for him is that he has dreams, great dreams and aspirations. We need to help develop his character so that he can deal with any possible failure but we also need to show him to dream big and not be scared of failing to achieve those dreams.
In twenty years time, hopefully he can look back and see that his Dad had a big dream and went out and with some perseverance, achieved it. And if an overweight, out of shape guy with a poor attention span can do something like this, that he can do anything.
Twelve days ago this journey started with me deciding to do the Huntly Half (21kms) on May 23. That gave me just under a month to start from scratch and do the run in under 2hours, a target I had set for myself. Bradley Scott, Knights player and a far better T20 bowler than Jake Oram, has very kindly offered to run with me to help me get through given I haven’t exactly given myself a lot of time. Shane Derry has also taken some time to help with advice as I have bad shins caused by a poor running technique.
The purpose of this post and future ones is twofold. I want to create a record for the little bugger to show him what I did and I want some buy in from other people so I can’t fail.
So if you can, pop back in every now and then and see how progress is going and throw some abuse or support at me. I won’t fail at the Huntly Half because Bradley is investing some time in me and I don’t want to let him down, I need some similar interest with this
Cheers
Jase
That’s how long I have to prepare for my first ever (and probably last), Ironman. I have never run a marathon, indeed the Tuesday just gone was the first time I had ever run over 10kms in one run. I can’t swim more than about 300 metres without feeling like I am about to die so 3.8kms in a cold lake surrounded by 1499 other swimmers scares the crap out of me. Oh, and then there is the small matter of 180kms on a bike. This maybe the most soul destroying part of the day. The immense pain in the legs and the exhaustion of my lungs will pail into insignificance when compared to the gloom of going through Reperoa not once but twice.
What propels someone who is hardly an athlete, let alone an elite athlete to endure such self inflicted punishment?
Well there are a few reasons, some noble, some not so. Firstly, there is the need to satisfy my ego that I have the mental and physical strength to do it. I want to believe I can but won’t ever really know unless I put myself through the process.
There is also the matter of wanting to find a recreational pursuit that doesn’t involve the drinking of copious amounts of beer. Presently I weigh 95kgs which puts me at least 10 kilos overweight. The strain this puts on my back hinders my ability to do a heavy manual job such as farming. Not to mention the fact that Wendy being pregnant should be the only one to not see her toes in the house. If I don’t change my lifestyle, we will be moving her pregnancy clothes to my wardrobe once she has the baby.
These all pail into insignificance though. when I see the overwelming source of my motivation. Cam Jim Uden. When we were expecting him, I would have these daydreams about how our son (the thought that we could have a girl never entered my mind), would grow to be captain of the All Blacks as a blockbusting number 8. That lofty deed however would only be realised after he had scored a brilliant triple hundred at the MCG to singlehandedly clinch a series win against the aussie’s. Maybe not quite singlehandedly, Kane Williamson could be at the other end, also unbeaten. His would be a glorious sporting career at the conclusion of which, he would cure world hunger and bring peace to the middle east.
And then he’s born and for a brief period of time, I'm just stoked that he has ten fingers and toes. As he grows older I start to lose grip with reality again, the first time I drop him and he doesn’t cry I think quietly to myself that I'm, sure Buck Shelford had the same toughness at 3 weeks old. Then the first time he holds something I see the obvious eye hand talent that will be required. And naturally, the tantrum that is thrown when something doesn’t quite go to plan is just the necessary selfishness required for sporting success coming to the surface. But it wasn’t, it was the signs of Autism coming to the surface and earlier this year, he was diagnosed as having Autism Spectrum Disorder.
Suddenly, all my shallow dreams for Cam to live the sporting life I had always desired were irrelevant. Whilst Wendy had always had things such as learning to count, read and of course, communicate as the number one accomplishments to achieve, I suddenly had to get on board. We are fortunate that Cams battles with these things that most people take for granted, will not be as great as for many other children with Autism and long term, he will very likely lead a life as independent as the one you or I lead. He may well grow to achieve the great sporting deeds but those things are really unimportant. It will be for him to choose his own path in life.
It will be for Wendy and I to give him the belief that he can do anything and this is where the Ironman kicks in. My biggest wish for him is that he has dreams, great dreams and aspirations. We need to help develop his character so that he can deal with any possible failure but we also need to show him to dream big and not be scared of failing to achieve those dreams.
In twenty years time, hopefully he can look back and see that his Dad had a big dream and went out and with some perseverance, achieved it. And if an overweight, out of shape guy with a poor attention span can do something like this, that he can do anything.
Twelve days ago this journey started with me deciding to do the Huntly Half (21kms) on May 23. That gave me just under a month to start from scratch and do the run in under 2hours, a target I had set for myself. Bradley Scott, Knights player and a far better T20 bowler than Jake Oram, has very kindly offered to run with me to help me get through given I haven’t exactly given myself a lot of time. Shane Derry has also taken some time to help with advice as I have bad shins caused by a poor running technique.
The purpose of this post and future ones is twofold. I want to create a record for the little bugger to show him what I did and I want some buy in from other people so I can’t fail.
So if you can, pop back in every now and then and see how progress is going and throw some abuse or support at me. I won’t fail at the Huntly Half because Bradley is investing some time in me and I don’t want to let him down, I need some similar interest with this
Cheers
Jase
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