Shooting your first wedding

Last year a mate of mine (the inimitable Tim Arch) asked if I would be interested in shooting a wedding. I thought that this would be a good opportunity to work with someone who knows what they’re doing and to learn a few tricks of the trade, so I said ‘Sure.’ But a few days later I re-read his message and suddenly realised that he hadn’t actually said that I would be assisting him, and after a flurry of DMs on Twitter I came to realise that in fact Tim would be attending the wedding…and I would be shooting it by myself. So I explained that while I felt happy with the way my photography was progressing…I didn’t really feel comfortable being the ‘be-all and end-all’ for someone’s wedding day. So Tim said he would explain this to the Bride and Groom, and a few days later he let me know that they were still happy to have me shoot their wedding. So it was time to HTFU and shoot my first wedding!
Was it terrifying? Yes. Were there things I could have done better? Yes. Did I learn more in about 4 hours than I had in the previous year? Yes. Will I ever shoot another wedding? I don’t know…but at least it’s not a definite ‘No!’.
So I’m no expert on wedding photography…but here’s what I learnt.

Preparation

Admittedly this is not going to come as a massive surprise…but the more prep you do, the easier the day will be. I had a few meetings with the groom before hand and a meeting with the bride and groom about a week out from the wedding. This was invaluable for making sure we were all on the same page in terms of what I was going to shoot.
I also headed over to the venue the day before at about the same time as the wedding was going to be to make sure I had a few good ideas for where I could shoot the group shots. While I was there I also roped a friend into walking towards me so that I could work out what shutter speed I would need to get shots of the bride walking towards me.
You may not use any of the the info that you glean from this preparation (Lord knows I certainly did!), but you will be able to carry yourself with the confidence that comes with being prepared.

I discovered this location on a walk a few months earlier and thought it would make for a great shot.

Improvise

Preparation is great…right up until that moment you when the spot you had in mind for the group shots suddenly isn’t available and you have to come up with another option. Or when the bridal party is crossing the road to get from one location to another and you see a chance to shoot them with an iconic Melbourne tram in the background (admittedly this shot didn’t work…but at least I got it!) So keep your eyes open for opportunities, and don’t freak out if you have make a last minute change.

Make sure you get a few shots that 'tell the story' of the day. This one serves as a good introduction. — Make sure you get a few shots that ‘tell the story’ of the day. This one serves as a good introduction.

Carry a shot list and ideas for shots

I’m sure that once you’ve done a couple of weddings you will know what shots you need and how to get them. But for me, having a list on my phone of the shots I needed to get and a few ideas for setups was invaluable. If you’re shooting the wedding by yourself you’re going to be flat out trying to keep people happy for the camera, taking the shots and making sure that they are working. You won’t have a whole lot of time to think about where you should be shooting next, or what would be a good set up. So if you’ve got a list, you can just refer to that and know that at the end of the day you’ve got what you needed to get.

I hadn't intended to take a shot here, but the light was great and the grey background really made the bride and groom pop...also the bride suggested the photo and I'm too smart to refuse. — I hadn’t intended to take a shot here, but the light was great and the grey background really made the bride and groom pop…also the bride suggested the photo and I’m too smart to refuse.

Go with what you know

I spend a lot of time taking photos of my kids, so I know the importance of waiting for a shot to happen, rather than trying to manufacture it. I’m also more comfortable shooting people with available light than with a flash. So there were moments like these where I knew I had nice light and I knew I could get a good shot if I waited for the right moment

And there was a moment where the bridal party wanted a photo in front of the fountain with late afternoon sun behind them. I thought that with about half an hour of mucking around with the flash I could get a good shot…but I also knew that I didn’t have that sort of time, so I had to just say ‘I’ll take the shot, but I think the sun is going to be too bright behind you.’ They were happy that I took the shot, and in the end the shot was too blown out…but I’m glad I didn’t waste precious time trying to make a shot that my skill level was unlikely to achieve. Because two minutes later I got these shots that I wouldn’t have got otherwise.

The Gear

Going into this, I think I was more concerned about the gear side of things than actually taking the shots! Will I need two cameras? Will I need a full-frame camera? How will I go shooting on a different camera when the pressure’s on? What lenses should I pack? Should I take a prime or zoom? How do I carry it all? AAAGGHHHH!!!!!
In the end I was very lucky and got to borrow a Canon 7D and a 70-200mm f4 lens. I also took my 550D with a 17-55mm f2.8 lens and a 50mm f1.4 lens. I had one camera on a sling and the other camera just on a strap and so carried them everywhere. I also had a tripod, flash and reflector.
So, did I need two camera bodies? Yep. There’s no way I could have changed lenses quick enough to get both this shot on the 70-200mm lens and then this one on the 17-55mm.

Perfect...apart from that creepy photographer in the background. — Perfect…apart from that creepy photographer in the background.

Did I need a full-frame camera? No, I’m happy with the shots I got on the 550D and 7D. How did I go shooting on a different camera when the pressure was on? Fortunately the navigation on the 550D and 7D are pretty similar, so I didn’t have any issues. But had I been shooting on a 5Dmk3 or different brand of camera, I think it would have ended in tears.
Should I take a prime or zoom? Given that so much of this was just running and gunning I definitely could have left the 50mm prime at home. I toyed with the idea of borrowing an 85mm for the portrait shots, but I’m glad I didn’t as I don’t think I would have had the time to change lenses and it would have just been another thing to carry.

How did I carry it all? Well…I just carried it all. It was freaking hard work. My shoulders were cactus by the end of the day, and there was one awesome situation where I had a camera set up on a tripod in preparation for the group shot, and then was asked to take some photos 100m away in another part of the park. So I was left getting people to pose for some photos, while desperately checking over my shoulder to make sure no one was running off with the camera and tripod I’d left set up. This was not in any way, shape or form relaxing, and if I was doing it again I would definitely rope someone in to assist me.

Eating and drinking

If you’re someone who likes to eat (and I am) then you should definitely try to get some food into your system before the ceremony begins, as there will be very little chance for you to eat anything other than snacks for the next couple of hours. Fortunately I was pretty much running on adrenaline for 4 hours straight, and it wasn’t until I stopped that I realised just how hungry and tired I was.

I would also recommend taking a water bottle with you if you can. I was shooting in the late afternoon of a warm Summer’s day (about 30 degrees) and knew I would get pretty dehydrated if I didn’t drink a fair bit of water before the ceremony. So I drank plenty of water in the lead up to the ceremony and carried a water bottle with me. While I certainly didn’t get dehydrated, spending the next 2 hours with a full bladder and standing next to a fountain was not ideal.

Conclusion

What I don’t know about photography could fill a library…but fortunately what I do know about myself could fill a small self-help pamphlet. I know that I achieve the most when I push myself out of my comfort zone. So while I was terrified about taking on the job of photographing someone’s wedding, I just told myself that it was like any other photography gig and went for it…although admittedly it is ‘like any other photography gig’ except for the fact that it’s one of the biggest days in most people’s lives…and you only really get one shot at getting the photos…and people are almost definitely going to print the photos and look back at them over the years…in hindsight, I should never have done this.

But I was also really lucky to have a really lovely couple to work with. They said from the outset that they were going to be relaxed and easy going…and they were. I think that if they had been a high-maintenance couple then this would probably have been my last wedding…but as it stands…if the right couple came along…I reckon I’d do it all again.

How to deal with pesky onlookers telling you how to do photography.

Around the Bay 2015 – The plan

After spending exactly zero hours training together, the three members of a team for the Around the Bay meet to discuss their strategy for the day. Chris Riordan lays out his plan:

‘Ah gentlemen, glad you could make it. Austin, could you please close the door behind you? We don’t want everyone hearing our plans for the ride.’

‘Excellent. Thank you. Well this Sunday is the big day and I feel it’s probably a good idea to discuss our tactics for the day. Now, as the team leader…yes Austin…no, no you are not. While you have excelled in the logistical side of arranging our entry to the race, I’m sure you will agree that on the day we need a team leader who has a shot at winning.’

‘Well it’s exactly that attitude that makes you such a poor candidate for the role Austin, eye rolling and exasperated sighs aren’t going to help us at the pointy end of the race now are they? Also, quick show of hands everyone who was at this year’s Tour de France’…no one else?…That’s what I thought. So it’s agreed that I’m the team leader? Good.’

Melbourne – Queenscliff

‘Now as there are only three of us I’m suggesting we alternate between a 2:1 formation (in which two riders sit at the front and one sits behind) and single file formation. Clearly as the team leader I will not be able to sit at the front in either of these formations, so you will need to organise yourselves as to how quickly you want to roll the rotations…but with our 0 hours of training together, this really shouldn’t be a problem.’

The ferry

‘A lot of teams will be using the ferry as a chance to rest their legs. We will not be. I’m a firm believer in ‘active recovery’ and so I will expect one or both of you to work on my legs for the duration of the trip. This is not some pansy rub down…but nor is it a deep-tissue, let’s use our elbows on his hamstrings affair either. I can’t be more specific at the moment, but rest assured I will tell you everything that you are doing wrong on the day.’

Nutrition

‘Clearly stopping at the aid stations to collect food runs the risk of an accident with all of the merging cyclists…it will also diminish my ‘numbers’ in terms of average speed for the ride. So 500m from the aid station I will be passing one of you (I would suggest you rotate this role) my drink bottles, two of us will then ride past the aid station and skirt around the danger, while the other will stop, grab food, replenish the water bottles and then put in the hard yards to catch up with us. I will be easy to spot as I will be sitting on the wheel of the person who I’m riding with and taking selfies.

Sorrento – Melbourne

‘Clearly we will adopt the same riding formation on the ride back to Melbourne. However on the climbs, Paul it will be your responsibility to set the tempo (Austin I will need your legs of the flat section from Frankston). As we near the top of each climb I will swing past and claim ‘King of the mountain’ points. Ideally one or both of you will take photos of this. The social media plan for distributing these images will be covered in the ‘Social Media’ section of this briefing.
Once we hit the 10km to go mark, it will be important for me to start getting the legs ready for the final sprint. So I will be moving to the front to get the legs warmed up. These moves to the front will only be for 200-300m max, and it will be your jobs to adjust to these sudden surges in speed, and then allow me to tuck in behind once I’m done.’

The Finish

‘This is what it’s all about. All the training we haven’t done comes down to this moment. All the time we haven’t spent away from our families, all those mornings when we got up at 4.30am and then went back to sleep, all those sacrifices we didn’t make will all be worth it. But we need to execute this correctly! I do not want you screwing this up on me.
At 800m to go Paul will wind up the pace and start stretching the elastic of the weaker riders, then at 600m he goes flat out, I want to see some Tony Martin style drool coming from out of your mouth, then at 400m, Austin, you swing around the exhausted corpse of your brother and really turn on the after burners (while also checking behind you to make sure you haven’t dropped me…if you have, you must wait until I catch up and then start sprinting again). At 200m I swing past Austin (If I don’t have the leg speed to do this, Austin will start braking to create the impression that I am flying past him), then it’s all on me. I will power to the finish line, victory Riordan!
I will of course acknowledge your efforts in all post ride interviews, however (and this is very important) all winnings will stay with me. After all, I was the one who came up with this plan, I was the one who had to sit behind you two all day, and I was the one who put himself on the line for that last 200m to take the victory. So while there is no ‘I’ in team, there is in ‘win’. So you think about that before you start sending any snide tweets about me.’

Social media

‘Clearly any time I roll to the front it is incumbent on you to take photos of this so that the people at home know that I’m a team player and willing to do my fair share of the work. I’m suggesting hashtags of #whataguy #trueleader #sunsoutgunsout (this is only to be used if it is in fact sunny, and you have managed to capture an angle at which it looks like I have muscles…please let me know when I should flex).’

‘So that’s it. It’s a going to be a great ride, and I look forward to having a few drinks after we’re done (although I should stress that this will not be with either of you).
Go team!’

Shooting the Tour de France: An amateur’s perspective

“The tour, it’s like Crack isn’t it?” laughed the pro-photographer with the South African accent, before hopping on the motorbike to follow the peloton “Every year I say it’s my last time…but I keep coming back!”
Well I’ve never actually tried Crack, but thanks to the good folk at Cycling Tips and Exodus Travel I did get to see the tour this year, and while it’s pretty unlikely I’ll be able to afford to get back there any time soon, here are some things I learnt about taking photos at ‘Le Tour’.

Travel light…but not too light

The best way to get to a lot of the climbs and good vantage points to watch the race is to ride or walk. So whatever gear you want to take, you will be lugging with you on your back. On my first two days I carried just a 50mm prime and my Canon 550D. Which was good from a weight perspective…but made shooting a lot of things difficult. First of all, the 50mm being a prime lens means you can’t get a good spot by the roadside and then zoom out to get both the riders and the beautiful Alpine background…no, you need to step back a bit. Which means you are going to either have to shoot through a crowd (less than ideal) or shoot the riders quite tight (good to have, but you don’t want all of your shots to look like that).

Sagan tightening the straps for the descent

So for the remainder of the time I carried the additional weight of the 17-55mm and pretty much shot everything on that. At the end of the day, riders on a road could be anywhere, so you need to be able to get wide enough to tell the story of where they are.

Geschke on his way to a stage win at Pra Loup

I didn’t take a 55-200mm lens on this trip…not because I didn’t want to…but because I don’t have one.

Use a motorbike.

All the pros get to use a motorbike…so why shouldn’t you? Well, because you’re not accredited so you couldn’t get access to the course…plus it costs too much…and let’s not forget helmet hair. But you will find that you can use the motorbikes in the tour to your own advantage by using them to set your shutter speed. Now if I learnt one thing from my time on the tour, it’s that professional cyclists go freaking fast…so you want to make sure that you have all your settings dialled in before they arrive. But if you’re an amateur like me, then you’ll have no idea what shutter speed you should be using. So I just experimented with different speeds and shot the motorbikes as they went past (there are quite a few that come through before the leaders arrive). If the motorbike looks sharp, then you can be quietly confident that the cyclists will be sharp when you shoot them.

Providing valuable info to fans, riders...and photographers — Providing valuable info to fans, riders…and photographers

You’re a photographer or a spectator…you can’t be both

It was embarrassing the number of times I thought there was still another big group of riders to come because I hadn’t seen the yellow jersey yet…only to go through my photos and realise ‘Oh…he came past five minutes ago…here’s a photo of it!’ Or I would be chatting to the guys I was watching the tour with and they would say ‘Did you see the look on Cav’s face on that climb?…he was suffering’ and I’d think, ‘Crap! That must have been while I was taking photos of the Colombian fans!’

These guys were having a good chat the whole way up the climb

You can try to occasionally just leave the camera in the bag and soak up the atmosphere…but deep down you just know that as soon as you don’t have the camera ready, Sagan will go past doing a wheelie…or a Yeti will attack the grupetto as it goes past. It’s just not worth that risk!

Don’t ‘spray and pray’

Nah just kidding, if you’re a professional or a purist, you can crap on about just focussing on taking one shot and really nailing it. But for you and I, when those riders go past, you are going to keep shooting until the cache is full. There’s no shame in that. After all, you’re the poor bastard who’s going to have to go through all of them later.
And sometimes as you’re shooting madly, the guy next to you will create a perfect frame through which to view the riders as they disappear into the distance…and you’ll look like a genius.

Don’t shoot the same shot every time.

I spent pretty much the whole time shooting and thinking ‘Well I’m just ripping of Kristof Ramon with that one…that one’s pretending to be Veeral…and look, I think I’m both Jered and Ashley Gruber in this one!’ In short, you’re remarkably unlikely to come up with a shot that’s never been done before. But by the same token you don’t want to come back with ‘Here are photos of 50 different riders, shot from the the same angle and with the exact same execution!’ So drag the shutter a little, focus on crowd not the riders, shoot tight, shoot wide, shoot portrait. Do whatever you can to make a shot that someone who doesn’t obsess over cycling will still want to look at.

'That's close enough' — ‘That’s close enough’

Do the boring stuff.

Load your photos every night. Tag them with metadata. Back them up to some sort of storage so that if the worst happens, they are in two (or ideally 3) places at once. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity, so spend the extra half hour to make sure it’s a story you can tell that doesn’t start with ‘I took this amazing series of photos, but then…’

A quick look to see who's coming — A quick look to see who’s coming

But above all just have fun. You’ll learn a lot just by being there, and if you end up with a pile of crap photos at the end, just hide them and tell people you were too engrossed in the experience of the ‘Le Tour’ to take any photos…they’ll never know any better.

France vs Melbourne

Having returned from my recent jaunt to France, I’ve realised that there are some things that the French do very well…and some things that the French could learn from us. I’m quietly confident that they’re not listening to me, but here is my list anyway.

Things the French do better than us.

Driving

Now admittedly as you approach, drive through, or leave a town you will be met with a bewildering number of speed limit changes (they even put 30km/h signs in front of speed humps), but once you are out on the highway it’s 130km/h (or 110km/h if it’s raining). 130km/h! That really makes a difference on long journeys. Plus they don’t sit in the fast lane and hold other people up…no, they just sit in the lane that they’re comfortable with, and if they have to pass someone, they do and then move back into their lane.
Plus they pretty much all drive manual transmission, which means they actually have to pay attention when they’re driving. Chapeau France!

Cheese

I had always thought of myself as relatively knowledgeable about cheese. I wasn’t scared of blue cheese, I’d cooked with Taleggio, I’d tried Rocquefort. But arriving in France made me realise just how much I didn’t know. Over here, Chevre is pretty much a one trick-pony (or goat as the case may be), but over there, there are dozens of types of Chevre. Not to mention sheep’s milk cheeses, local specialities like Neufchatel and a dazzling abundance of all of the cheeses you already knew. Best of all, everything I tried was delicious.

Drivers vs Cyclists

The French appear to have taken an unusual approach whereby the cyclists aren’t jerks, and the drivers aren’t arseholes…and in a complete surprise, the ‘Drivers vs cyclists’ problem is non-existent. The two groups just co-exist. All it really takes is people being willing to forego 10% of what they want in order to accommodate someone else…but unfortunately with our new found national sense of entitlement, any time we don’t get 100% of what we want is seen as a calamitous loss. So I can’t see this happening here any time soon.

Mountains and chateaus

One of the downsides to having a nomadic population up until about 1788, is that we didn’t have thousands of years of people constructing buildings to basically say to anyone who was looking ‘You want to know how I rich I am? I’m this rich…and I’m so French that I built this one for my mistress!’

Also, as a photographer, you’re always struggling to frame a nice shot that has a good material in the foreground and background. But in France, if you’re in the Alps, then you only have to worry about getting the foreground right…as having those mountains in the background makes every shot a winner!

Just place flowers in the foreground...and voila! — Just place flowers in the foreground…and voila!

Things we do better in Melbourne

Coffee

On our last day in France, as Katie and I sat drinking a cup of black, plunger coffee I said ‘You know, this really isn’t that bad’. But I now see that it was that bad…it’s just that over the course of two weeks my standards had fallen so substantially, that what previously would have been considered a ‘coffee flavoured hot beverage’ at best, was somehow being passed off as coffee.
Now I know that you seem to put 98% of your milk into cheese and butter, and so need subsist on long life milk…but come on France, even your espresso was crap! Stop using crappy little machines and get something that can actually extract a decent shot. Don’t leave the group head in the machine after you’ve made a coffee until the next customer arrives, and get the grind right so that it doesn’t just look like a cup of warm coke.
With that said La Pommetier and Le Petite Atelier, you will always have a warm place in my heart for the coffees you provided.

Cheese

Ok, so I am already on record in this blog as saying that I love your range of cheese. But cheese should be enjoyed in refined moderation. It should be like that person at a dinner party who knows how to drink just enough so that they’re interesting and entertaining…but not so much that they become a bore. France, you are currently like someone at a 21st birthday party, drinking wine from a funnel! For the love of God, show some restraint!
Every time I didn’t know what a menu item was, it was invariably cheese. I had a pizza that looked like it had been on fire and so someone had tried to put it out by smothering it in cheese. Another time, my entree turned out to be a pot full of cheese, with occasional bits of ham and some bread to dip in there. If you’re going to serve fondu, at least have the decency to admit that it’s fondu!

Breakfast

For the first week of my stay in France I was riding at least 80kms per day, up some of the steepest hills I’ve ever seen, and in 40+ degree temperatures. The breakfasts provided were, a selection of pastries (3 days) and a croissant, tub of yoghurt & container of stewed apple (4 days). Now this is OK as a breakfast, provided it is either Mother’s Day in 1994 or you’re a 3 month old. But not if you’re an adult who is hoping to get something done that day.

Conclusion

So there you have it. France has more things to recommend it…but Melbourne has better coffee. So let’s call it a draw.

Tour de France and the ‘Ultimate Job’ with Cycling Tips

Growing up, my Mum had a word for someone who was particularly lucky; ‘tinny’. If the right cards came up in a game of 500 more than a couple of times, you were ‘tinny’, if you got more than one prize in the Cup sweep, you were ‘tinny’, win a raffle you were ‘tinny’. It was a term often applied to my younger brother…but not to me. I’m a very lucky guy…but just not in a ‘Hey you just won a prize’ way. So I think it’s fair to say that I was pretty freaking surprised when I found that I was one half of the winning team in the Cycling Tips Ultimate Job competion. So now instead of staying up to ungodly hours of the morning listening to the dulcet tones of Phil and Rod and watching the French countryside try to outdo itself in a ‘which area looks the most like a fairytale’ competition…I’m actually going to be over there watching it live…and begrudgingly reporting back to you about it.

So how does it feel?

About 5 years ago I suddenly came to the crushing realisation, that I was never actually going to own a Porsche 911. For some unfathomable reason I had spent the preceding 35 years thinking that seeing as I really liked these cars…I was clearly going to one day own one. Then I suddenly realised that ‘Oh wait…that car costs more than our house did when we bought it, and has fewer bedrooms!’ Similarly last year I came to the realisation that with 3 kids under the age of 10, by the time I could afford to get everyone over to France to see Le Tour (let alone tackle some of the famed climbs) I was going to be too old and fat to actually do it. So to be suddenly told that I will actually be following the tour, on a bike and taking photos and videos is pretty amazing. But at the same time it’s a bit like someone giving me an owl as a present…sure, I’ve always wanted one…but I never really expected to get one, so now what the hell am I going to do with it?!!

Hopes and fears

Let’s start with the fears…because most people come to the internet in order to feel that at least someone out there is more worried than them.

Riding in the Alps- I’m sure most of us had an experience when we were teenagers of drinking waaay too much of an alcoholic beverage (usually a spirit), and then vomiting, and then spending the next five years feeling as though we were going to vomit every time we smelled that drink or even thought about it (Sambuca, I’m looking at you!) Basically your body says ‘Well that was freaking horrible…let’s never do that again’. Well after doing an Ironman earlier this year, I think it’s fair to say that for the last 6 months I have felt about as keen to hop back on my bike and go for a hard ride as I have been to give birth to a chair. So the prospect of suddenly reacquainting myself with cycling via a series of mythically steep hills is not filling me with confidence.

The internet- While I’m more than happy to put my musings online for my normal audience (love you Mum and Dad)…it’s quite another thing to be putting stuff up to a world of internet experts. I’ve seen content that I’ve really liked get ripped to shreds in the comments section. I’ve seen videos that would have taken ages to create, and photos that would have taken a lot of skill to pull off dismissed so cavalierly that it almost made me weep for whoever had created it, and I know that regardless of how many nice things people say about something I’ve done, it’s the person who has a go at me that really stays with me.

My hopes are thankfully a lot less angsty.

Zero responsibility- I won’t have any kids to look after, I won’t have a 9-5 to go to, and at the end of the day, no-one who reads Cycling Tips will be any worse off if my content sucks, because Lord only knows there is enough other content for them to enjoy. So all I have to do is ride, eat, sleep, take photos, make videos and write stories. Which is more than just the ‘Ultimate Job’ it’s pretty much the ‘Ultimate Life’.

Le Tour- I get to watch the tour during daylight hours. I get to see all these guys I’ve only ever seen on TV, in real life. I get to shudder when I realise how fast they actually go…and chuckle when I realise how skinny their arms really are. I get to travel to a country where cyclist aren’t treated like an unwelcome hindrance. I get to ride up hills that until now have only been spikes on an SBS course map or footage from a Sufferfest video. And I will get to see my travel companion Riley’s face fall further and further as he realises that my ‘fluent French’ is in fact just what I learnt from Pepe Le Pew as a child (look out black cats who have had some white paint fall on them!!).

For all of this I’m eternally grateful, and I can’t wait to get over there, soak it all up…and hopefully distill some of it back to you. If there are things that you would like me to talk about, then please let me know. But if you are reading or viewing any of my content for the time that we’re over there, I only ask that you remember that old saying ‘If you haven’t got anything nice to say…you’re going to feel right at home on the internet.’

Fitness and photography

A couple years ago I spent 12 months focussing on being more ‘creative’. I spent more time writing, taking photos and making videos…hell, I even took singing lessons. The net result was that I think I became a happier human being. I had a creative outlet (even if the world probably preferred it when I didn’t), my problem solving improved (although admittedly the ‘problem’ was normally someone asking me not to sing…and my ‘solving’ was agreeing and apologising) and I started to see creative options where I hadn’t seen them before. But for the last year and a half I’ve been training for the Ironman (well admittedly I’ve spent the last 2 months basking in the afterglow of having completed the Ironman) and I’ve been amazed at how focusing on keeping yourself physically fit, can have massive benefits for your creative endeavours.

The basics

Granted, the actual act of pressing the button on your camera, looking at the screen on the back, sighing, and then dejectedly deleting the photo, is not all that physically taxing (the emotional and psychological onslaught is of course another thing). So you could argue that increased fitness won’t make a big difference to your photography. But a bit of cardio fitness may have meant you walked a bit further to get a better vantage point, a bit of endurance work may have meant that you carried an additional piece of gear in your bag that helped make the shot and a bit of muscle may have allowed you to elbow your way through the scrum and get the best shot of your daughter’s dance recital (Oh sorry other parents, maybe if you’d spent a little more time at the gym you would be the one taking this awesome shot…instead of rolling around on the floor moaning ‘My nose, my nose…I think you broke my nose!”).

Location, location.

While training for the Ironman (and yes I will continue to drop that into conversation wherever possible) I would often head out on 1.5 – 2hr runs. Now don’t get me wrong, running along main roads and having the local bogans loudly question your sexuality as they drive past is pretty awesome. But eventually you will want to get off the beaten track and run somewhere different, and this will open up a world of new photographic locations. Old buildings, new bridges, creeks, graffitied walls, velodromes, rolling hills- you never know what you will find, but you can bet that it’s not something that many other people have used for a photo.

I stumbled across this one morning while out for a run...then scampered back to get my camera. — I stumbled across this one morning while out for a run…then scampered back to get my camera.

The early bird

Do you know what’s awesome for photography? Early morning light, deserted streets, sunrise, frost and that crossover between late night revellers and those who get to work early. Do you know what sucks? Getting up early to take these shots when on any other day you’d still be asleep. But if getting up early is now part of your daily routine (because it’s the only time you can work your fitness regime into your family life or work schedule), then getting up early on another day to take some shots really isn’t that tricky.

Admittedly this photo wasn't taken superearly...but it was early when we started! — Admittedly this photo wasn’t taken superearly…but it was early when we started!

The people you meet

I’m firmly of the opinion that the most important factor in taking a great photo is not your skill level…but being there. A photographer with basic skills who is actually there, is going to take a much better photo than an expert who isn’t. But the problem is, how do you meet people to take photos of? How do you hear about events that would be great to photograph? How do you hear the stories that would translate beautifully to the captured image? In short you have to get out and meet people and do things, and getting involved in a sporting group or club is a great way to do this.
Plus, if you are actually doing an activity, you will have a much better idea of where the best photos are going to be. Everyone is going to be at the finish line, but where will the race be won? Where will the hearts break? Where is the bike most likely to stack? If you are actually doing these activities day to day, you will be able to walk up to any event and have an advantage over the other photographers.

Confidence

OK, if you’ve made it this far into this post then you’re probably willing to let me get a little tangential. If you are exercising regularly, you will be happier with yourself physically. When you’re happy with yourself physically, this tends to manifest itself in greater self confidence…and you know what is an incredibly powerful tool when trying to convince strangers to let you take their photo? Self confidence. It makes no sense, but I know that for me personally, knowing that I could run 20kms on any given Sunday, gave me the confidence to approach Luke and ask him to pose for a portrait.

Of all the photos, I think this one carries the most weight. — Admittedly he does look a little like he’s regretting agreeing to let me take his photo.

Time to think

If you’ve got kids, or a full-time job, or remarkably persistent cats, you’ll probably find that you don’t have a whole lot of time to think about your photography. But head out for a swim, ride, run or gym session and you suddenly have time and space to think, although for the first couple you will just be thinking ‘Christ I hate running!’ and ‘Why am I doing this?!’ and ‘Who the hell put the Wiggles on my playlist?!!’ But eventually you will be able to do the physical side of things on auto-pilot, while you use your newfound firing synapses and endorphins to come up with some stellar ideas.
The best ideas I’ve had for photos, videos and blogs have been while I’ve been out exercising.

Selfish portrait. ISO 400, 17mm, f3.5 and 6sec — Selfish portrait.

In conclusion, your Honour…

Having swung the pendulum between focusing on creativity and focusing on fitness, I have settled on the idea that I need to have a balance of 60% fitness and 40% creativity…with that additional 20% focus on fitness leading to more than a 20% improvement in my creativity. So go out and try find your balance. Before you buy that next bit of gear, buy a a decent pair of runners instead, before you book a photo-tour, go for a run around your local area and see what you find, and instead of putting your head back on the pillow at 5.30am get outside and break out of your comfort zone…your photography will be the better for it.

The photographic waiting room

It can be very easy to think that the modern photographer’s life is one of instant gratification. After all, Ansell Adams often had to wait weeks before he knew if that shot of a rock had worked as he wanted it to…nowadays we can take a photo of the rock, add a few filters and send it to an uninterested world in a matter of seconds. But much like a young tradie being sent to the shop to get a ‘long weight’, there are still a few times that photographers find themselves waiting, and then realising that they are too embarressed to tell anyone about it.

The time between taking the photo and getting to work with it in Lightroom

Pretty much every photographer has had the experience of looking at a shot on the screen on the back of the camera and thinking ‘Nailed it!’, only to get the photo onto a larger screen and realise that in fact it’s soft (slightly out of focus), or noisy (ISO too high) or shit (shit). So there is always a degree of paranoia about your shots until you can load them into your computer and see what you’re really dealing with. After all softness can be sharpened, noise can be reduced and shitness can have 100% clarity added to it and passed off as ‘HDR’. But you just don’t know what you’re working with until it’s loaded onto your computer…and so the wait between clicking the shutter and clicking on the mouse can seem like an eternity.

Last year I shot my first ever wedding. By the time I got home that night and loaded the photos onto my computer it was late and I was too shattered to do any work on them. But then the next day was chock-a-block with family activities, and the day following that involved a 5 hour bike ride. So I spent over 48hrs freaking out that I had no idea if I actually had any decent shots…it was torture.

So if you live with a photographer and want to be nice to them, give them an hour off other duties and let them load in their photos and have a look at them on a big screen with access to some software that can hide their mistakes…it will make them a lot more pleasant to be around.

Waiting for feedback

I think that people who don’t take photos can underestimate just how much a photographer invests in a shot. As the photographer you’ve chosen to take a photo, you’ve composed it, you’ve chosen your settings, you’ve forged a brief alliance with your subject, you’ve taken the shot, you’ve spent time doing post-production on the shot, sent through the final product, and then…well then you’re in the hands of the recipient, and the longer you wait for a response, the more you become convinced they hate it. It can be soul crushing. It’s a bit like finally plucking up the courage to call someone you have a crush on, but getting their voicemail and having to leave a message and then having to wait them to call you back. Or maybe you should call them…to make sure they got the message…or maybe I should I see if they’re available on Facebook…wait, it says they’re logged in on their mobile…why didn’t they answer my call then?… Oh God they must be trying to think of a nice way to say ‘No’…Oh God I feel like such an idiot!…but why don’t they just let me know? Why do they just leave me hanging? What sort of psycho are they?! Screw this, I’m going to send them a really nasty text message telling them that I can’t believe I ever I had feelings for them, but not to worry, I can take the hint, and I’ll never bother them again!
Meanwhile, in the time it took to go to the bathroom, the subject of your desires has received one voicemail message followed a few minutes later by a bafflingly angry text message.
In short, you are a tad vulnerable when you put a part of yourself into a shot for someone else’s judgment, and paranoia + time = teenage boy.

So if you have the misfortune of living with someone who fancies themselves as a photographer, or someone has taken some photos for you, here are a few things you can do to assuage our fears:

Let us know you got the photos. Even if you haven’t had a chance to look at them yet, just let us know they’ve arrived. Sometimes, due to the vagueries of the internet, photos don’t make it from sender to reciever, and there is nothing worse than waiting for feedback on photos when the other person is still waiting for them to arrive.
Give feedback. Look, I know we’re all time poor, but I’ve had photos that I’ve taken hours working on, uploading to a gallery on Flickr and sending through, only to recieve ‘Great, thanks’ as the feedback. What was great?! Which ones did you like? Why?
When I did the recent photoshoot with Luke from the Cobblers Last he actually went through and listed the photos he liked and why. It was awesome because going into a shoot you have no idea what people are hoping for, so it’s great to know how close you came to what they were after.
Oh, and if I’ve seen you write ‘Cute pic’ or ‘That’s so great’ to someone’s clearly out of focus photo of their child on Facebook, your feedback has no weight with me.
Tell it like it is We are precious flowers…but sometimes we need to hear what you don’t like. Yeah, it hurts and we will probably spend the next couple of hours in a huff, but we need to know why you didn’t like a photo. I can pretty much guarantee that if there’s a photo you don’t like it’s either a photo the photographer had doubts about themselves, or there is a specific reason why they included it. As a photographer you take a lot of photos…the real skill is culling them down to the ‘good ones’. The more informed we are about what constitutes ‘good’ the better we’ll become as photographers.
Be our muse Yep, standing a spot while the photographer stares blankly at the display on the back of their camera and then adjusts the the off-camera flash for the umpteenth time can be boring as batshit. But consider it an investment in the ultimate prize; a photo of yourself that you actually like!

So there you go. We photographers are in fact incredibly misunderstood and under-appreciated geniuses who thoroughly deserve your respect and admiration. Just please tell us we’re good…please!

My first and the Cobblers last

One of the sad realities of getting involved in photography is that you start to see everything as a potential photo. That old guy at the train station is now someone who would make a great ‘street photography’ shot, that derelict old building is now a great potential location for a shot, and that camping trip with the family is now a great opportunity to take some long exposure night photography shots. So when a new shop that fixes shoes opened next door to work, and had guys who work there in clothes that look a tad Dickensian and had two amazing old school shoe shine seats…my first thought was ‘That would make a great photo’.
Now that is normally where the idea stops. After all, the unbridled success of my idea could only be sullied by the reality of me attempting to actually take the photo. But in keeping with my new motto of pushing myself out of my comfort zone, I decided to bite the bullet and ask if the guy who was working in the shop would be interested in posing for a portrait.

Hello complete stranger…can I take your photo?

I have no doubt that once you have an impressive portfolio and you genuinely know what you’re doing, then asking a complete stranger to give up an hour of their time so that you can take a photo of them becomes relatively straight forward, as you know that in return for the hour of their time, you are going to give them a photo that they will like. But when you’re still learning your craft, there is always the fear in the back of your mind that you may be asking someone to give up their time for a substandard reflection of themselves. Fortunately I had an ace up my sleeve, I had some shoes that needed to be fixed, so I could use that as a justification for striking up a conversation…and then smoothly ask ‘Would you mind if I portrait a photograph of you?…I mean take a photo of you?…I mean not now, that would be creepy, ha ha ha…maybe when there’s no-one else in the shop…no wait…I mean…that would be worse…what I meant was, can I take a portrait of you?’
As I said…smooth.
Fortunately the man behind the counter (Luke) said he was more than happy to do it (but I suspect he was mainly saying that to get me out of his shop so that he could press the ‘panic alarm’ button). So we locked in a time a date.

The idea

As I mentioned earlier, Luke had two shoe-shine chairs in the shop, and so as Buck 65’s track Craftsmanship looped in my head I had a vision of getting a shot of Luke on the shoe shine seat- the artisan and his tools. Similar to the shot of took of my father-in-law, I would use an off camera flash on an umbrella.

The execution

We had arranged to do the shoot on a weekday after work. So in the morning I trundled off to work with my camera bag (550D, 50mm, 17-55mm, flash, remotes, battery charger & grid), my work bag with my lunch and drink bottle, my lightstand, my bag with my ironed shirts for the week, my tripod and an umbrella (it was raining).
It was at about Northcote that I realised that the pivotal piece of equipment, the reflective umbrella was still at home under my bed. Perfect. I eventually tracked down a shoot-through umbrella and figured that may suffice.
Then when I got to the shop I realised that the shoe-shine seats were actually a lot higher than I had realised, which meant that it was nigh on impossible to get the flash up high enough to create the light that I wanted. But that was fine….because the shoot-through umbrella wasn’t capable of getting the light that I wanted anyway (in short the spread of the light was a lot broader than what I wanted). So I set about getting a few shots of Luke in action, in the hope that I might have a moment of inspiration in the meantime.

Luke at work buffing a shoe...my shoe incidentally. — Luke at work buffing a shoe…my shoe incidentally.

The hands of someone who does actual work.

Eventually I took the plunge and took a couple of shots of Luke up on the seat

but it wasn’t until Luke suggested sitting down at ground level as if he was going to be doing a shoe shine that it all started to work. In hindsight, it was never going to look natural with him up on the seat…as that just doesn’t make sense. It’s almost as if the guy who has been doing this for years knows more about it than the photographer who has just swanned in to take a photo…weird.

Suddenly it started to work. It was nothing like the photo I had in my mind at the start of the shoot…but it was starting to feel like it made sense.

The peaked hat was giving me a few problems...but looking to the light always helps. — The peaked hat was giving me a few problems…but looking to the light always helps.

Yep I've seen one of these before...it's a shoe. — Yep I’ve seen one of these before…it’s a shoe.

In the midst of a few shots, I got this one…and it’s my favourite.

So what did I learn?

Well first and foremost, pushing yourself out of your comfort zone is definitely the best way to learn…but this is a hell of a lot easier when you’ve got someone who’s patient and understanding to work with. Luke was happy to wait while I faffed around with the camera and flash, provided suggestions, and not once did he say ‘You know, I really do have better things to do with my time!’ (so if you’re in the city you really should get all your repairs done at his shop he’s a pretty awesome dude!)
Also, if your shot is reliant on a piece of equipment…then actually bringing that piece of equipment is a really super idea. If you fail to heed this piece of advice, then you need to be able to adapt pretty quickly to whatever you have at your disposal.
From a technical perspective, I really have to let go of this idea of shooting everything at ISO 100. The 550D doesn’t do high ISO all that well, but shooting at 200 or 400 isn’t going to be a big problem, and does give me a much faster shutter speed.
I’m slowly growing out of the ‘shoot everything at the lowest f-stop because that always looks so cool’ phase. But I’m not there yet.
Presets in Lightroom are still my go to…but they are teaching me a lot about how to use post to make an image pop.
Go with your strengths. My photography still has a long way to go…but my chatting to people skills are pretty good. So no matter how bad I may think the technical side of a shoot is going, I need to maintain that dialogue with the person I’m photographing. Even if I take a really good photo, I won’t be invited back if I act like an aloof dick.
I took over 100 photos for about 20 ‘keepers’ (and in all honesty 5 that I was really happy with)…the Washington Generals have a better shooting percentage than that!
The constant soundtrack for this photoshoot was ‘Craftsmanship’ by Buck 65. So it’s only fair that I finish with a line from that song:
‘There’s a right way to go about your job and a wrong one
I find this way is much better in the long run
It ain’t about the dollar or trying to go fast
Unless you take pride in what you’re doing, it won’t last
Craftsmanship is a quality that some lack
You got to give people a reason for them to come back’

You can see the full gallery of shots here.
If you don’t already own a copy of Buck 65’s Talkin’ Honky Blues, then go out and buy one…it’s genius.
And once again thanks very much to Luke for his patience and enthusiasm.

My first (and last) Ironman

After 15 months of training I can finally swan around saying ‘I am an Ironman‘ to anyone who’s silly enough to ask. ‘But what was the actual race like?’ I hear absolutely none of you asking, well let me take you through it.

The lead-up

Regular readers of the blog will know that I’ve wanted to do an Ironman since I was a 15yo watching the Kona highlights on Nine’s Wide World of Sports, and I’ve been training for Ironman Melbourne for about 15 months. So it felt quite surreal after all that buildup to suddenly be only one sleep away from competing in the Ironman. On the night before the Melbourne Marathon I had found it really hard to get to sleep, and so this time I decided I would get into bed nice and early and just relax into a good night’s sleep. So at 8.30pm I climbed into bed and read a book for half an hour, then at 9pm I set my alarm for 4am and closed my eyes. At 10.30pm I still wasn’t asleep, but reasoned that as my body was used to going to sleep at about this time, there was no need to worry. At 11.30pm I told myself that it was ok, after all I had been resting for a good couple of hours, and that was nearly as good as being asleep…right? At 12.30am I started to panic a little. 3.5 hours of sleep was really not ideal before an entire day of exercise! At 1.30pm I started to really panic, which greatly assisted my ability to get to sleep. Some time after that I fell asleep. At 3.30am I woke up and told myself that I really should go back to sleep, an extra half an hour of sleep could be a really good thing…at 3.50am I realised that this wasn’t going to happen, so I got up and began what would be the most physically gruelling day of my life. I was not brimming with confidence.

The swim (3.8kms)

I think it’s fair to say that my favourite part of any of these events is the interminable time you get to spend standing around after you’ve got everything into transition and the event actually starts. It’s a really good chance to realise just how freaked out you are, and how much you really need to go to the toilet…again. So it was awesome to finally just get the swim started. For those of you who don’t know much about Ironman, the swim has traditionally been a mass start. Which means that all of the athletes (other than the Pros) start at the same time. So if you can imagine over 2,000 people all fighting for the same small amount of water, you can imagine just how much fun that is. Fortunately, this year they introduced a rolling start, whereby they basically lined everyone up and started them 6 at a time at about 5 second intervals, which meant that you spent significantly less time being kicked in the face as you swam. The combination of this start and the beautiful (ie no waves) conditions meant that I got into my swim rhythm really quickly, and felt really good for pretty much the entire time.
Going into the Ironman, my swim leg was probably the one I was confident in. I had been swimming regularly with a squad and had done some long swims by myself in the pool. The only fear I had was that I hadn’t done much open water swimming (and by ‘not much’ I really mean ‘bugger all’), but I was quietly confident that my excellent tumble-turns would provide me with an X-factor.
I had hoped to do the swim in about 1.15 and ended up doing it in 1.07, and even though I didn’t know what time I had swum (thanks to a Garmin that had a crack in the screen and could no longer go in water), I came out of the water feeling happy that I hadn’t gone too deep into my energy reserves, and that technically I was one third of the way through the Ironman.

The bike (180kms)

Going into the race, this was the leg I was most worried about. The only way you can do 180km on the bike comfortably is to do a lot of long sessions on the bike, and the only way you can do long sessions on the bike is by abandoning the family for 5-6hr stretches pretty much every weekend (and then of course being exhausted for the remainder of the day). With three young kids, and a full-time job, and a pretty strong desire not to get divorced, that is pretty much impossible. So while I had managed a few long rides (including one epic ride with Matt Nelson out to Healesville and back via the hills), I knew that I didn’t have the kms in my legs to dominate the ride. So my aim was to ride conservatively and go into the run with some energy still in my legs.
The bike leg is basically doing two laps of 45kms from Frankston to Springvale Rd out along Eastlink and then back. My aim was to sit on an average of 30km/h. If I did this then I would do the ride in 6hrs. I spent the vast majority of my time on the first lap out being passed by everyone. But I kept telling myself not to worry as all I had to do was ride conservatively, and I would catch a lot of people on the run…besides, these were probably the elite people who were passing me.
I averaged about 28km/h for the first lap, but wasn’t too worried as I was riding into a headwind, and on the way back to Frankston I averaged just over 30km/h so I was still confident that could get close to the 6 hour mark.
On the second lap out, I think it’s safe to say that everything went to hell in a handbasket. The headwind had really picked up and it was getting hot. There weren’t as many people passing me…but all my ‘they’re going too hard and are going to blow up on the second lap’ thoughts were starting too look remarkably inaccurate, and my ‘they’re probably the elite athletes’ beliefs were harder to sustain when men in their late 60’s cruised past. The Mars Bar that I had in my ‘special needs’ bag (this is a bag you can collect halfway through the race) had transformed from ‘frozen’ to ‘disgusting near liquid’, and there was no way I wanted to eat the vegemite sandwich that was also there. I had gone through 3 water bottles and a water bottle with my gels in it, and hadn’t needed to go to the toilet…so clearly I was dehydrating at a rapid rate of knots. On top of this I was getting a searing pain in my left foot known as a hot spot (which is basically where your foot swells in the heat and then gets constricted by your cycling shoe which leads to nerves getting squashed, which leads to a feeling as though someone is putting a blow-torch onto the ball of your foot). I’ve never had this before…and to be perfectly honest, I hope to never have it again. The only way I could get rid of the pain was to loosen the straps on my shoes…but eventually it got to the stage where my shoes were so loose that it was affecting my pedalling. So I began stopping every half hour to take off my shoe and stretch my foot.
I finally made the turnaround point and headed for home. But my average for the third lap was 21km/h, so all bets were off in terms of doing 6hrs. Already my thoughts were turning to my Mum and Dad who were going to be waiting for me in Frankston and were going to be waiting around for about an extra hour, and to Jo Donnelly and her family who had been there when I came out of the water and was probably wondering where the hell I was…and of course to Katie and the kids who were going to be waiting for a long time at Black Rock before they saw me.
But as bad as I felt, I was least heading back to Frankston with a nice tailwind…and if nothing else, at least I wasn’t one of the poor bastards coming past me in the opposite direction into that head wind and looking shattered.
In the end I did the ride in just over 7hrs, and averaged just over 25km/h. In all honesty I should have just set myself the goal of averaging 27km/h and I probably wouldn’t have felt like I was failing so badly for so long. But the mathematical ease of 30km/h proved just too tempting.
On the bright side, I had managed to get through pretty much all of my nutrition and still felt that I had some energy in my legs…so bring on the run!

Pretty sure I'm smiling because as I head off on my second lap, Luke Bell is about to finish his second. — Pretty sure I’m smiling because as I head off on my second lap, Luke Bell is about to finish his second. Photo: FinisherPix

The run (42kms)

I’m on record as saying I’ve never really been a runner. But if you’d asked me coming into the Ironman to rank the disciplines by preference, it would have been swim-run-bike. Even though I’ve only been running for about a year, I actually came in with a bit of confidence that I could maintain about a 6 minute/km pace for the run leg. After the first 1.5kms I was feeling great. I had found a good rhythm and pace, my parents had told me my swim split which had been a pleasant surprise and I was already passing people. This was going to be a triumph!
Then about 1km later I started feeling sick and had to pull over to the side of the path to vomit. As horrific as this may sound to a non-Ironman, I actually didn’t think this was too bad. I had got it out of my system, and now I just needed to get some more nutrition in and I would be fine…then I had one last little vomit and saw blood. ‘Hmmm’ I thought…’that’s probably not so good’. But I didn’t feel any pain…and I no longer felt sick, so I pushed on. At the next aid station (about 4kms in) I had some electrolytes, some watermelon and some water and then saw my coach (Craig Percival). We ran together and I told him that I had vomited, but was actually feeling much better, and he was saying that if I could hold this pace I would be passing heaps of people as there were a lot of people who had gone too hard on the bike and were now walking. Ahah! I thought. Vindication. Sure that bike leg had sucked…but now was my time to shine! I was running comfortably at about 6 minute pace and nothing could stop me.
Then it did. I got to the next aid station and my stomach was feeling queasy again. I headed into the porta-loo and vomited up everything I had eaten at the previous aid station, and a little blood for good measure. It suddenly dawned on me that this could be the end of the race. I couldn’t do another 35kms without any food or water…and this vomiting up blood thing really wasn’t that awesome either…in fact, I’m sure I saw this on an episode of ‘House’ once. So I stood in a porta-loo halfway between Frankston and Seaford and faced the fact that for the next few years, every time someone asked about the Ironman, instead of having a story of challenge and triumph…I would ultimately have to tell them that I didn’t finish. That all the training, all the effort, all the sacrifice from myself and my family had been for nothing. Then someone knocked on the door and asked if I’d ‘finished in there?’. So I climbed out of the Porta-loo, went back to the table with the water on it, drank a cup of water…and started walking.
I walked to the next aid station and had some water, some ice and some electrolyte and waited to see if I could keep it down. I did, and so I started a slow jog. At the next aid station I had a little more water and electrolyte and picked up the pace, but then my stomach felt queasy again so I slowed down. I basically did this for the remaining 30kms. I would jog when I could, then I would start to feel better, so I would get back into a run, then I would feel sick, so I would walk. But on the bright side I was keeping everything down, and while I wasn’t willing to risk having a gel (they make me want to vomit at the best of times!) I was at least able to eat some banana, or some pretzels.
The daylight faded, the heat dissipated and soon I was past Mordialloc and the half way point. People were still out supporting the runners, and I made sure I acknowledged all of them. The views were stunning and I regularly wished I had my camera. I found myself running with a group of people who were all at about the same pace and the aid stations (which are at 2km intervals) began to tick by.
I tried picking up the pace a couple of times, but again each time my stomach would start to react, and I knew I had to choose between running faster and running the risk of vomiting again (and realistically finishing the race if there was still blood coming up), or running at a slower pace, but knowing that I was going to finish. The reality was, that I was never in this to do a certain time, I was in it to finish it…and so I cruised on.

With about 3kms to go I could see the lights of the finish, and I knew that no matter what happened I was going to finish, and so I decided to just run and see how I went. It felt great. I was back to running at the pace I wanted to and made it all the way to the final aid station without any issues. I took one last hit of water and electrolytes and ran the last 2kms without any issues (I even tapped out a 4’53 for the last km!).
Running down that final chute was something I’ll never forget. The lights, people cheering, Mike Reilly saying ‘Chris Riordan, you are an Ironman!’ and my family waiting just over the finish line. Did it make up for the preceding 13hours and 45 minutes? No…but it did come surprisingly close.

Great shot by Luke Vesty of me crossing the finish line

Support

I can’t thank enough the people who came out to support me on the day. From the Tri Nation team who were there at the start of the swim, to Jo Donnelly, Simon and Indi who cheered me as I came out of the water and then were still there to cheer (and run alongside me) about 8 hours later somewhere near Bon Beach. To my Mum and Dad who waited for me to finish the ride in Frankston and then continued to appear at random intervals like inept stalkers for the duration of the run, to Oc and Tara who for once in their lives didn’t sprint past me through Black Rock, to Luke and Matt who waited patiently at the finish line and took some sensational photos, to my coach Craig Percival who was the steady voice of reason and reassurance for the whole run and of course to Katie, Josh, Holly and Xavier who supported me the whole way from Black Rock back to St Kilda (not to mention every day for the last 15 months). And of course to everyone who has given me that look of ‘well it sounds insane to me…but if that’s what you want to do, then go for it’ over the last 15 months- Thank you.

Iron Man Riordan-3 — The family at the finish

Iron Man Riordan-4 — Matt and Luke politely avoid mentioning how sweaty I am.

Iron Man Riordan-5 — ‘While I was out there I was practising my Blue Steel…check it out’

What’s next?

Will I do another Ironman? If you mean ‘Ironman’ as a metaphor for ‘pushing your boundaries and trying new things’, then yes I will. If you mean ‘Ironman’ as a metaphor for ‘setting a goal and working your arse off to achieve it’ then yes I will. But if you mean ‘Ironman’ as in an actual Ironman with a 3.8km swim/180km bike ride/42km run…then no, only a lunatic would attempt that.

An Ironman moment of clarity

A moment of clarity is usually a moment when you see through all the interference and stare at the truth of a situation. Sometimes it’s a drug addict seeing through the haze of chemicals and suddenly seeing what they’re doing to themselves, sometimes it’s someone meditating on a problem and suddenly seeing the answer unfold before them…sometime it’s Jay-Z. For me, my Ironman moment of clarity happened last week when my wife said that she was going to head out on Sunday with a few of her friends to celebrate her Birthday, and my first thought was ‘But that’s going to mean I can’t get my training done!’ Then I thought, ‘That’s not the sort of thing a loving and supportive husband would think. That’s not even what a basic human being would think. That’s what a sociopath would think!’ In my moment of clarity, I saw that achieving something I’ve always wanted to achieve, may mean becoming someone I never wanted to become. The sort of person who sees everything through a prism of ‘How does this impact on me?’ In short, becoming a selfish person.

Let’s not kid ourselves

Becoming an Ironman is a selfish pursuit. I’ve tried to justify it to myself by saying ‘It will be great for the kids to see me apply myself to achieving a dream. They’ll see that hard work reaps rewards.’ But in truth, they haven’t got the foggiest idea what I’m doing when I’m training. They just know that Dad goes away for hours at a time…and returns sweaty and hungry. I can tell them that I’m going to swim 3.8km, ride 180km and then run 42km in a day…but that means absolutely nothing to them. They simply have no point of reference. I may as well tell them I’m going to map the human genome for all the relevance it has to their lives. And it’s not like they can tell their friends ‘My Dad’s an Ironman!’Because, the most likely response is going to be ‘Your Dad’s Ironman?!!!’…and then I’m going to have a procession of disappointed children wondering through my house asking where my metal suit is? And how come I can’t fly? and why don’t I have a collection of luxury sports cars in my garage? and come to that…why don’t I have a garage?!
The simple truth is, if I said ‘Hey kids, would you prefer to have your Dad be an Ironman or actually be around to take you to basketball and circus?’…I’m pretty sure I know what the answer would be.

I’ve even tried to convince myself that I was being a good husband by working so hard on getting fit. But in truth I’m yet to hear any woman say ‘You know my dream man is someone with the wiry and veiny legs of a marathon runner…and the emaciated upper body of a cyclist. Who gets up at some ungodly hour of the morning and falls asleep before I do every night. And who destroys any chance I have of maintaining a diet by eating all day and everyday in front of me…Oh, and if he can bang on endlessly about the sets he did at swim training…hold me back!’

Swimming towards the wave

There invariably comes a time when you are trying to make your way back out through the surf that you see a wave rising up in front of you. You can either sit back, let it break and hope that you can simply duck-dive under the whitewash. Or you can paddle your arse off and hope that you can get over the wave before it breaks. But the closer you get, the bigger the wave seems and the more likely you are to get a serious working over. With about 7 weeks to go before the Melbourne Ironman I was paddling frantically to get over that wave, but it was getting bigger and bigger. The wave was made up of the guilt I felt over the time I was spending away from my family (a few days earlier my 3yo son had walked up to me while I was doing the dishes, looked up at me and matter-of-factly said ‘I hate you Dad.’ then casually walked off), the guilt I felt for missing training sessions, the despair I was feeling seeing all my other hobbies slide into the background, the fear that maybe I wasn’t going to be able to complete the race, the fear that if I did finish the race maybe I was going to spend 13 – 15 hours hating it and wondering why I even bothered, and of course the knowledge that with 7 weeks to go my training load was only going to increase over the next couple of weeks.

The coach

When you’re out in the surf facing that wave, you don’t really have the option to ask those around for you advice. But when the wave is simply a metaphor for all your fears and anxieties about a race, then you actually have the option to talk to someone who has been through it (or at least a variation of it) before and can pass on some sage advice. For me, I was lucky enough to have my coach Craig Percival to talk to. I sent him an email explaining that I was no longer really looking forward to the race, and that in fact my sole motivation was simply all the things I was going to be able to do once I had finished the race, and his advice was simple ‘put the bike away, don’t look at your runners and just take some time off for a few days.’
So I did. I took 4 days off training. I spent time with our three kids. Took them to a movie. Did some photography work. Took my time with the cooking. In short, acted like a normal person, and in doing so, gained a little perspective.

Perspective

My goal going into this was just to finish the Ironman before the cutoff. Spending 15 months listening to people who race Ironman and 70.3 distance races regularly may have got me thinking about an 11hr time versus a 12hr time…but I didn’t get into this to beat a time. I got into this to do an Ironman, and so long as I finish before the cutoff, then I’ve achieved that.
I’m going to have to be selfish in order to achieve this, for the next 6 weeks I’m just going to have focus on the race, but I can try to assuage some of my guilt by giving back on race day. To be that guy who hi-fives the kids who have stood for hours by the road cheering people on, to be the guy who thanks the volunteers at the aid stations for the work they’re doing, to be the guy who acknowledges friends and family who have come out to cheer me on, and to be the guy who is just as excited to see his family at the end of the race as he is to hear Mike Reilly say ‘You are an Ironman!‘

To be the guy who sees what everyone else has done to allow me to live a dream.