Fat boy did run.. and swim .. and cycle

I did it. Yes I really did.

 I crossed the finishing line without medical assistance and so my challenge was completed.

So for those of you sane enough never to decide to do something ridiculous like this I thought I would tell you how it went.Apologies for it being rather unfunny but thought you might like the facts



Week before
As it dawned on me that on Sunday I was going to be running and cycling a bit, I thought I would check out the course. Oh bugger.

I forgot we werent in Kansas any more Toto. Northern England has hills. And I am doing my tri in Kendall. Famous for its mint cake ... to eat when up those hills.

At that point I thought about all the amazing injuries I could get and not have to do the race. I looked at the profile a few times to see if I could wish it somehow more Holland than Lake District. But to no avail.

Next step was to do the route on google maps. Eek, even worse. Up to this point all my training had been on the flat. I hadnt even ever thought that there may be more than a slight undulation. But bugger it, I would walk if I had to. It still didnt stop the most nerve wracking 5 days of my life. Stupid isnt it!

The Day
I had been given my start time and so had to go and register beforehand at the venue. Being massively paranoid we left earlier and got there with loads of time to spare. All the more time to worry. And look at all the really professional people with their fancy bikes.

Strangely no one noticed the imposter in their midsts and allowed me to register and get my bag of goodies.

Back to the car to get my bike and take it to the transition area, I passed people with gel sachets, disc wheels, carbon fibre widgets and boxes of stuff. I had my bag with a few bits and a bottle of water.

 felt like Jan Molby had been invited round Beckhams and he had opened the door in his pants.

The bikes are hung up in the transition area and you lay all your stuff out. I spent a whole 5 seconds dumping mine by my bike and pouring half a talc mine into my socks.

Then lots of standing around trying to avoid the instinct to run away ...

The Start

With 10 minutes before the start I assembled on the pool side with the other members of my wave. To my eyes they were semi pro in the least, pretty much all dressed in some form of black rubber. Chatting to a couple of them it seemed we were all at our first one, which cheered me up, until I found out most of them ran 10k's or were road cyclists. I was the opposite. I dont do bad in the swim but the rest is a challenge.

Called to the pool side we were each given a timing chip to measure our splits and each section. Again I expected to be handed a sundial to measure my time, but my buff confident exterior confused them and I got a chip an all.

Into the water and countdown from 10 the first wave goes. Second wave goes then my turn. At this point I had decided that I might as well actually do this triathlon malarkey as I got my head wet.

The Swim

I pushed off and did my 16 lengths. As mentioned my swimming is the high point and straight away I caught up with the guy in front, which became a pain.

After 8 lengths, valour got the better of me and I thrashed wildly past him. I had only bloody overtaken someone... inside I did a little dance :-)


Out of breath after my sleek passing move I quickly caught up with the guy in wave one and decided to just plod behind him.  Then it was over. I carefully climbed out of the pool, gingerly tip toeing to the grass area out side lest I slip (plus you musn't run next to a pool)

Then once on the grass I felt I had to run to my bike cause everyone else was. I did feel a berk as I am not sure my transition times were that important, although people clapped and cheered me (again mistakenly)

The Cycle
Helmet on (not allowed to touch your bike without it being on) then socks (with its talcy loveliness) plus shoes and I was good to go. Wheel the bike down to main road and I was off on my 21km ride.

At this point life was easy. Swim went well, bike felt ok... I could do this. Then I started to hit the hills. Only little ones to begin with but we had been warned there was a long steepish climb. Knowing what is coming meant that every little hill was branded the big one, until a bigger one came along.

As I tootled along minding my own business, proper racers came screaming past me at about a billion miles an hour! They looked like were out for a morning paper not racing, rather than a red faced idiot huffing and puffing along a bike that was far superior to his abilities.

But this is where I discovered why people do it. Every single person that past me shouted encouragement or checked I was OK. Whilst you race by yourself, all of you race together. It was a lovely feeling.

Spurred on I was feeling all Wigganish and really enjoying my ride, that is until I met the hill. It wasn't really a big one, but it seemed to go on for a while and I just ran out of puff about halfway up. Having given myself permission beforehand I hopped off my bike and walked up the rest of the hill.At the top, I had the pleasure of a good downhill, hitting the heady heights of about 30mph.....vroooomm

Lap two of the course I was more into my stride and reach 3/4 before I hopped off, so a small victory to me. Then I headed back to the transition area, again being met by applause and encouragement.

Shiona did a little dance when I came into sight (mainly I found out later because she thought she would be scraping my up from under a HGV)

The Run
Bike racked, helmet off and off I toddled on my run. 5km around a part track part road course with one steep section (nope hadnt trained for that either). Strangely I felt fine, obviously sticking close to my training plan had helped with my fitness. I managed to get round with a mix of walking and running, with only my quads threatening to cramp up. The steep hill at 3km was met with a firm bout of walking and puffing..

Lapped by pretty much everyone and the milkman, I didnt really care, I knew I was going to finish. Again words of encouragement flowed as men hewn from raw granite breezed past me.

The final 2km downhill was almost a pleasure. I rounded the final bend and managed to ensure that I ran over the finishing line. Woo hoo.

The End
So that was it. I had finished and got my medal.

Or is it? 
As I packed up, all I could think about was when was the next one.

Within a week I have booked two more and one duathlon (run then bike then run) with potentially one more in the pipeline to take it to 5 events this year.

 Not bad for a fat boy.

oh and do you think I would learn.

I have booked to do a triathlon in Buxton in 6 weeks. 

They have hills in Buxton.

And it goes up the biggest... and what is classed as the most dangerous road in the UK.

bugger...