Fat pig has been running regularly and getting distinctly self-righteous about it. But pride always comes before a fall and I have been laid low recently by the calf strain I picked up in Anglesey a couple of weeks ago. This is still playing me up but not so much that I haven't been able to get out on my refurbished mountain bike in my ludicrous black lycra and crash helmet. Being out on the bike has got me contemplating the challenge of the triathlon and hence I found myself at Wyndley baths at 6.30 this morning. This was a major mistake because the baths don't open until 7.30. However after that particular false-start I donned my trunks (beach bum style, most definitely not budgie smugglers) and my stylish goggles and nose clip and thrashed up and down the pool a very few times, being regularly passed by breast stroking pensioners. This triathlon business is not going to be as easy as I thought. The big problem is breathing. I can't swim and breathe at the same time so the technical conclusion has to be that I will drown.
Despite the risk of drowning I think I will investigate this triathlon thing a little further if for no other reason than that it is a chance to buy lots of new toys - better running gear, a proper bike, biking gear, a wetsuit. I love big boys' toys.
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