- Before the start of the Splash and Dash (and sausage sizzle!) on Monday night. The 500m swim/5k run organized by TARTS (Taupo Area Triathletes) is a traditional kickoff for Ironweek here in Taupo.
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Of Kiwi Coffee and Camaraderie
> report filed March 3, 2004 by Amy White
> photos by Amy White
> photos by Amy White
We're here in Taupo for the 20th anniversary of Ironman New Zealand. It's been a long journey getting here, so in the next few days along with news of the race we'll be sharing some of the adventures from the road to the race.
But first, let's just get a few things out in the open.
The Kiwis are keeping something from us, and I think they rather enjoy it. Their coffee is incredibly good. I mean, it's so good you dream about it at night. Sure, you hear all about New Zealand's natural splendor, the friendly people, the cricket and the rugby. That's all true, but what you don't hear so much about is the cafe society--and the delicious coffee and sweets that are a big part of it. The Kiwis love their cafes, and I've yet to find an inferior cup of joe since I got here. I will get around to the tea, I promise. As soon as I have another soy latte. In a bowl, yes, thanks.
The water in Lake Taupo is so clear and clean that you are tempted to take big gulps as you swim along. The lake, after a few days of hiding its glory under cloudy and rainy skies, showed its beautiful blue yesterday evening as sailboats danced along its waters.
The friendliness and generosity of Kiwis cannot be overstated. These are people who just roll with it while the rest of us are, as my friend Steve Blum would say, getting wrapped around the axle about stuff. Steve, a longtime visitor to New Zealand, told me before I left these prophetic words: "Things just work in New Zealand."
A couple of examples from my brief time here show just how right he is:
I took my bike to the local shop here, CycleWorld, for a little bit of work and a good going-over before the race. Stuart, the mechanic, helped me choose some new tires for the local chip-and-seal roads, wrote down all that needed to be done, then said he'd get to it as quickly as he could. He rang me in the afternoon inquiring whether I'd found any "odd bits" in my bike box. The hub on my front wheel was missing a bit. A small one, but one that renders it, well, useless.
"I'm afraid it's not really rideable like this," he said, almost mournfully, adding that he didn't think he could come by this tiny part in time for the race, but he would try. "Do you know anybody here?" he asked. In fact, I do. I know Bryan Rhodes (left), one of the world's top long-course athletes--and Taupo's own. So I rang Bryan, trying not to panic. "Haaaaaa-lllloo," he said. I explained my predicament and started apologizing for troubling him. "No worries, Amy," he said. "I'll be right over." And he was. With a wheel. And a ride to Stuart. And a promise that his mechanic could harvest one of the bits from his own Ritchey wheel to make it all good in a day or so. He accomplished it all in five minutes flat and still made his regularly scheduled massage, never looking stressed or out of sorts. I just stood in the shop holding my bag of old tires as it all washed over me. What just happened here? So for the time being I'm riding the training wheel of a three-time Ironman winner. There's lots of good juju there, that's for sure.
My flight from the States arrived in Auckland at 11:30 p.m. on a Saturday night. Craig Browne, who runs the popular and long-running Stroke and Stride series there, offered to pick me up and told me I could stay with him for a couple of nights and have a look around the city. I protested that midnight was a little crazy to ask anyone to pick anybody up from the airport, that I'd be glad to come to his house on Sunday but spend Saturday night in a hotel near the airport. Nonsense, came the reply. "I assume you're on NZ3," he wrote. "I'll be there." And he was. In the pouring rain, with a smile and a warm welcome. His only complaint? That the rain made it impossible to see the city lights as we drove to his house. It continued to rain for the next couple of days, but Craig (a proud Auckland native) managed to show me, and a Japanese triathlete lodged with him while preparing for Strongman, some of the sights of that lovely, leafy, beach-filled city. And we happily took in some of the local coffee while sheltering out of the rain.
Now we're just a few days from the race. People in the shops ask if you're racing, how you're feeling, and they always, always wish you good luck. At Trade Aid the other day, as I was buying a beaded necklace, the shop owner asked whether I was here for the Ironman. "Yes," I said, sheepishly as always. "Why do you ask?" I wondered if I was actually wearing an invisible-to-me sign that said, "Ironman competitor. Handle with caution."
"Well," she said, "you look very fit."
I was bowled over. "You're very kind to say so," I said. "I don't feel fit in any way at the moment." This is actually true. When you're surrounded by the fittest of the fit, comparison (always unfavorable) is inevitable and results in a sudden plummeting of any confidence you might've ever had. If my mental state were the Dow Jones index, the arrow would be pointing down. Way down.
She smiled: "You don't have to come first, do you?"
"Oh, no!" I laughed.
"So you don't have to worry about that. Finishing will be enough!" We both smiled. That's fair enough. I mean, after all, this is New Zealand. Why get wrapped around the axle? Sit back, have a coffee, enjoy the view. For this stressed-out American, those are sweet words indeed.
The Kiwis are keeping something from us, and I think they rather enjoy it. Their coffee is incredibly good. I mean, it's so good you dream about it at night. Sure, you hear all about New Zealand's natural splendor, the friendly people, the cricket and the rugby. That's all true, but what you don't hear so much about is the cafe society--and the delicious coffee and sweets that are a big part of it. The Kiwis love their cafes, and I've yet to find an inferior cup of joe since I got here. I will get around to the tea, I promise. As soon as I have another soy latte. In a bowl, yes, thanks.
The water in Lake Taupo is so clear and clean that you are tempted to take big gulps as you swim along. The lake, after a few days of hiding its glory under cloudy and rainy skies, showed its beautiful blue yesterday evening as sailboats danced along its waters.
The friendliness and generosity of Kiwis cannot be overstated. These are people who just roll with it while the rest of us are, as my friend Steve Blum would say, getting wrapped around the axle about stuff. Steve, a longtime visitor to New Zealand, told me before I left these prophetic words: "Things just work in New Zealand."
A couple of examples from my brief time here show just how right he is:
I took my bike to the local shop here, CycleWorld, for a little bit of work and a good going-over before the race. Stuart, the mechanic, helped me choose some new tires for the local chip-and-seal roads, wrote down all that needed to be done, then said he'd get to it as quickly as he could. He rang me in the afternoon inquiring whether I'd found any "odd bits" in my bike box. The hub on my front wheel was missing a bit. A small one, but one that renders it, well, useless.
"I'm afraid it's not really rideable like this," he said, almost mournfully, adding that he didn't think he could come by this tiny part in time for the race, but he would try. "Do you know anybody here?" he asked. In fact, I do. I know Bryan Rhodes (left), one of the world's top long-course athletes--and Taupo's own. So I rang Bryan, trying not to panic. "Haaaaaa-lllloo," he said. I explained my predicament and started apologizing for troubling him. "No worries, Amy," he said. "I'll be right over." And he was. With a wheel. And a ride to Stuart. And a promise that his mechanic could harvest one of the bits from his own Ritchey wheel to make it all good in a day or so. He accomplished it all in five minutes flat and still made his regularly scheduled massage, never looking stressed or out of sorts. I just stood in the shop holding my bag of old tires as it all washed over me. What just happened here? So for the time being I'm riding the training wheel of a three-time Ironman winner. There's lots of good juju there, that's for sure.My flight from the States arrived in Auckland at 11:30 p.m. on a Saturday night. Craig Browne, who runs the popular and long-running Stroke and Stride series there, offered to pick me up and told me I could stay with him for a couple of nights and have a look around the city. I protested that midnight was a little crazy to ask anyone to pick anybody up from the airport, that I'd be glad to come to his house on Sunday but spend Saturday night in a hotel near the airport. Nonsense, came the reply. "I assume you're on NZ3," he wrote. "I'll be there." And he was. In the pouring rain, with a smile and a warm welcome. His only complaint? That the rain made it impossible to see the city lights as we drove to his house. It continued to rain for the next couple of days, but Craig (a proud Auckland native) managed to show me, and a Japanese triathlete lodged with him while preparing for Strongman, some of the sights of that lovely, leafy, beach-filled city. And we happily took in some of the local coffee while sheltering out of the rain.
Now we're just a few days from the race. People in the shops ask if you're racing, how you're feeling, and they always, always wish you good luck. At Trade Aid the other day, as I was buying a beaded necklace, the shop owner asked whether I was here for the Ironman. "Yes," I said, sheepishly as always. "Why do you ask?" I wondered if I was actually wearing an invisible-to-me sign that said, "Ironman competitor. Handle with caution."
"Well," she said, "you look very fit."
I was bowled over. "You're very kind to say so," I said. "I don't feel fit in any way at the moment." This is actually true. When you're surrounded by the fittest of the fit, comparison (always unfavorable) is inevitable and results in a sudden plummeting of any confidence you might've ever had. If my mental state were the Dow Jones index, the arrow would be pointing down. Way down.
She smiled: "You don't have to come first, do you?"
"Oh, no!" I laughed.
"So you don't have to worry about that. Finishing will be enough!" We both smiled. That's fair enough. I mean, after all, this is New Zealand. Why get wrapped around the axle? Sit back, have a coffee, enjoy the view. For this stressed-out American, those are sweet words indeed.
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