HOW I’M WHIPPING CANCER’S BUTT
A SHAFT of agony shot down my back, like a spear being plunged into my upper spine. It was excruciating. I had never experienced anything like it, even though my whole life as an endurance athlete had been dedicated to pushing the extremities of physical pain.
It happened while I was limbering up in the ocean for the start of the Shaw and Partners Doctor (regarded by many as the ultimate ocean paddling contest), a 27km race from Rottnest Island to Sorrento Beach in Western Australia. It’s a highlight on the global surfski calendar, attracting many of the world’s top paddlers.
That year, 2019, there were 437 of us. I race it regularly and have been first across the line three times in a row, but now for the first time in my career I was seriously considering withdrawing before the starting gun fired.
But just as I was about to drag my surf-ski back onto the beach, my competitive spirit kicked in. I threw my flip-flops into the boat that would be following the race.
“See you guys at the end,” I said.
The gun fired and we were off.
Despite the pain, I was still in my natural element. I am happiest when surfing down fast-running swells with spray on my face and a howling wind at my back. The siren of the sea beckoned the day I got my first surfski as a young boy and now, after almost half a century of racing to extremes, I couldn’t resist the
