Tuesday, 16 April 2013


So last Sunday, I completed my first Triathlon. Sprint distance: 30 lengths in the pool, 20K (25 on this occasion) bike ride and 5K run. I did it all. By myself. And let me say here that I'll not see 50 again. Being last out of the pool is quite interesting. Everyone stares at you. Not good if you're not the centre of attention type. The applause though (encouragement tinged with perhaps just a hint of what were you thinking?) is rousing. I got the stylish white cap off my 'ead and made for the transition area. Sheeting rain outside, obviously. I wondered how many people had noticed my bike - a sturdy hybrid thing complete with mudguards and luggage rack - and thought What was she thinking? (Glad I took the picnic basket off). Anyway, I was  up hills and everything, head first into a ferocious wind and going pretty damn well, I thought. Apparently I was out for hours and passed by 179 competitors (of a field of 180 entrants). So, the 5K run was the last bit. I'm more about endurance than speed, to be honest. I did finish the course. No matter that the post-race soup was cold and all the marshalls had gone home. What did I care that the sports centre was deserted and my bike clamped? Yes I was cold, wet, exhausted and alone. I was muddied, hungry and mentally confused. It was a right grand day out.

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