Angels have made me do this again. I do not want to be fit, athletic or motivated. Nevertheless, here I am again on the start line, e pluribus unum, quite a reluctant one as well. Especially as the weather was pants! Most went for the Eskimo look pre event and thought they would keep the look for the actual race. It was cold, but at least the rain kept off. So, once again, I am obliged to write this persiflage, disguised as a match report. Angels make me.
Since last triathlon, Ember has continued going through her midlife crisis, developed existentialist angst, fallen out with beer, chocolate and curry, fallen in love with tea, fruit and pasta and has moved to Raumati with Mr. Ember. It has been a confusing closed season. The good thing about all this is that my wetsuit ‘disappeared’ in the move so have an excuse to buy a new one.
At the end of last season, I promised all my followers, well both of them that, I would do the Wellington Half. This is of course is something I now regret as the thought of travelling 113.1km, without the luxury of a car wrapped around me, fills me with a deep sense of foreboding. I do of course have lots of time to train for this regrettable decision. Mr. Ember has even promised to help me with my training. However, I am not looking forward to it. Indeed, when filling out the form then clicking the enter button, I slowly stood up, opened my mouth as wide as possible then stuffed my right fist into my gob. I then crouched down as low as possible, rocking to the floor adopting a foetal position, gently rocking and murmuring soft sounds of despondency. Mr. Ember asked if I was alright to which I replied no. Not even a fresh cup of Earl Grey could arouse me from this gloom. What is done is done as they say. For those of you thinking of doing the big one, join me on the start line. The spot prizes will be late in the afternoon. Very late afternoon as I am hoping to finish by at least Tuesday. The offering of a half distance triathlon is sure to bring out a midlife crisis in many people around the Wellington region, which they too think can be mollified by completing an event of such grandeur.
To the nonsense of this first Duathlon, which is an exercise of transition. Decided to dispense with the shoe changing fiasco as in previous years James Turner has stolen shoes. For those of you just starting out at the Scorching Events, currently unfamiliar with James, ask around, then find a space on a rack as far away as possible from this scoundrel!
Explaining how this the Duathlon works, you are either running or cycling. When you have ran for a bit, you then have to cycle for a bit. Equally, when you have cycled a bit, you will then have to run for a bit. This sequence repeats seemingly ad infinitum, until you realise it is dark and there are no longer any people around. Remember to change your shoes a few times and try to make a firm decision whether to wear a cycling helmet or not. Eventually, it all ends and you have the warm glow of achievement.
Although today, the chance of a warm glow in such frigid conditions was impossible. Key task as always is not to get lapped by the fast boys and girls. Needless to say, I did, I think possibly twice. Rather an embarrassment being on the second run lap as people are finishing off their third, with myself to get on the bike and run again. Hmm. Also, do not get told off by the transition constabulary who patrol the transition area. They are usually keeping an eye on Mr. Turner in case there is pilfering of loafers!
However, as Mr. Turner was not there today, no footwear theft. Be warned for next time.
Something I do not understand. Why, when everyone is wearing gloves, tights/leggings/thermal underwear, puffer jackets, sleeping bags, etc., do we have to have large bold numbers of indelible ink tattooed to our arms and hands? My legs have not seen light of day for about 3 month now so any number painted onto my legs was simply an exercise in making sure I used soap and defoliant in the bath later in the day. This is not a complaint, merely a reflection of the conscious, but unspoken thoughts of the masses.
So how would I summarise today?
Run leg one. So cold that dog’s tongues were sticking to lampposts.
Cycle leg one. So cold it felt like a greeting kiss from the mother in law.
Run leg two. So cold, it felt like being in a freezer in Antarctica.
Cycle leg two. So cold that I found my cat in the fridge as it was warmer there.
Run leg three. So cold that the conspiracy theorists about global warming were having a field day.
Which brings me to the conclusion, we are all very committed. Well done all you first timers, took some resolve to turn out today. For the regulars, when will we learn that lying in bed until 10am, getting up then having breakfast in a café at 11am, reading newspaper stories which have already appeared on our iPad, 3 weeks ago before going home to play video games for the rest of eternity is apparently what normal people do? Not us.
For the person who came last today, remember you beat everyone who was not there. Respect.
On that note. Thanks to all the volunteers who shivered while we mucked around. You are better than the best. Suppose that must mean you are betterer. Thanks Angels. You make me exercise.
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