Misfires

22/09/2015

2015. A year, it would seem, that has had more misfires than a period piece musket. The more astute of you may have picked up by the distinct absence of website updates, that things haven’t been going as planned. The blog-reading cognoscenti are well versed – a quite blog ain’t a sign of good things. Perhaps, I guess, one could be so busy lifting trophies that one’s arms get too sore to type, but I’ve had little experience to add any credence to that hypothesis.

 

Let’s recap before we arrive at my current predicament. After a pleasing pre-season, I arrived at the first race of the season with slightly more form than I expected, starting with a solid 12th in Abu Dhabi. “Ah ha!” thought the Wilson of March, stroking a cat borrowed from a passer-by to add to the scheming intent of his inner monologue, “The season is mine, wait until I unleash my full potential on these hapless fools, I shall crush my competition like I crushed that easily crush-able thing last week!” Sadly, no sooner had this fictitious soliloquy taken place, then both myself and Aaron Royle contracted Swine Flu, and I’d barely set foot back on Australian soil before spending the next eternity firmly under the covers of the sick bed.

 

Cue then, somewhat struggling to get back on form over the proceeding flurry of racing through to May. “Ah ha!” thought the Wilson of May, this time forgoing the need to accrue feline accompaniment, “The crux of the season will still be mine - time for a uninterrupted training block to lead into the Rio trials, then I will crush my competition like that slightly more difficult thing I crushed the other day!”. Cue a few months of hard work, and the return of some promising form. Lamentably, shortly before I was due to leave for the Olympic test event, I developed some pain in my left Achilles, and any thoughts of crushing was put on hold, as I floated through no-mans land for a while, getting little bits done here and there, before having the pain return again. I was first out of Rio, then Chicago, and at week 10, with symptoms not improved, we had reached the point at which simply resting the leg was clearly not improving symptoms at all. Not wishing to try the same thing as we already had and expect to get a different result, a week ago I went in for surgery. “Ah ha!” thought the Wilson of September, not quite sure why he was still saying ‘ah ha’ and looking of a cat to punch, “Seems like 2015 isn’t the year of the crush then, looks like it’s 2016 for me!

 

The injury was a bit of a strange one, my Achilles tendon itself was ok, but there was persistent banding and tethering in the sheath surrounding it. The surgeon labelled it ‘weird’. Actually, come to think of it, he labelled me weird, I presumed he was referring to the injury, not myself as an entity, but I’ll have to check on that, and rethink my opinion of him if necessary.

 

So, at the moment, I’m not doing too much, aside from furiously crutching around Tarragindi and getting some uni work done. From here, I’ll get the cast off next week and get back into training, starting with some swimming and biking, and then the run last of all, looking to get back in shape for the start of 2016, in what will hopefully be a much more salubrious year.

 

Thanks to the support crew at the QAS, TA, sponsors, friends and family for supporting me, and an extra big thanks to Tash for being an absolute superstar support for me at times when I’ve been frustrated.

 

Hopefully better news next time!

 

Take care friends,

Willy