The following is an exclusive preview from the forthcoming ebook “Fatboy to Ironman”, by Jaan Larner
It covers his journey from overweight lawyer to Ironman in just 4 triathlons, setting out training and nutrition plans, event accounts, his successes and (more importantly) his failures and all the lessons along the way, including the all important Mental Game.
All told in a light-hearted, humourous way.
A must-read for triathletes and anyone interested in getting healthy without missing out.
“Triathlon.
The mere mention of the sport conjures images of lean, sinewy men and women, clad in glistening wetsuits, with steely determination in their eyes and exuding the palpable confidence of athletes who have dedicated hours, months, years to grinding cardio-vascular training and bear a genetic heritage that would make Superman cry.
Lined up at the start like rubber action figures, they explode into action at the gun, diving into the water to do battle in the washing-machine scrum of the Swim stage, vying for position. They slip effortlessly through the water like greased otters eating up the watery metres before emerging barely breathless, to shed their neoprene skin and lope gracefully to their waiting carbon-fibre mounts.
The helmets are donned and we glimpse the skin tight lycra-clad bodies, looking like animated Gray’s anatomy models (but you know, with skin and none of the yucky stuff showing) as they hop on their featherlight, staggeringly expensive cycles, to power away – guzzling restorative fluids and gels to fuel them on the bike route. Some may fall by the wayside, through accident or breakdown, but most will power up hills and zip down slopes, tucked in the aero-position to maximize the hard-won potential energy accumulated on the climb or just translating the chemical energy of their gels into as much forward motion as possible, contorting themselves to conform to the lowest possible drag coefficient.
Eventually, and before any reasonable human expectation, these creatures of fantasy reach the second transition, jog their bikes back to their storage point, cast aside their helmets and slip into their running shoes – seemingly without breaking stride – exhibiting an economy of movement which belies the endless practice and dedication to saving seconds here and there, all for these pure racing moments.
And then we see them properly, in full running flow – all taught, lean muscle and wind-hewed features – they lope powerfully along, always expending energy as economically as possible, wasting nothing with laser-like focus on their objective.
Until finally, having timed their exertions to perfection, they cross the line – a personal best. Again.
OK…well…this book isn’t for them.
It’s for the other guys…
The people who could barely swim 50m when they started and are scared of open water (thanks, Mr Spielberg, you taught a generation that the beach is great right up to the moment you get wet – then you die.).
The people who hate cycling because, if you weigh more than a lettuce leaf, those seats are capable of cutting you in half and the gears don’t go low enough to let you leverage yourself up anything steeper than a cheese wedge.
The people who find running painful, humiliating, exhausting, annoying and entirely redundant in a time where cars and public transport are surely a reasonable means of getting about.
The people who have treated their bodies like a temple – just one where you can keep you shoes on when you go in, eat cake and cheese when you’re there; and where they don’t mind if you spill your beer when you light your cigarette.
You know – to a greater or lesser degree – the rest of us….”
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