Big Fat Pig Completes First Triathlon

The Overgraduate without his Gok pants

I did it. Mark the date. Mark the place (Stratford-upon -Avon). All the greats have to start somewhere. I am now officially a triathlete. A very slow, stiff legged triathlete but a triathlete nonetheless. Photographic proof to follow, if someone can help me with the technology. I may even model the race T-shirt for you. I shall, of course, be wearing it casually about town for the next few months. I still wear my London Marathon shirt and that was 1996 for God's sake. I know I don't look old enough.

Because of my novice status and my (utterly accurate and honest) assessment of my swimming time I am out with those doing the relay triathlon (lazy bastards) and those doing the laughably named 'fun triathlon' (wimps) which meant they were only swimming and running half the distance but with the full bike ride thrown in. Indoor swim and we are sent off at 15 second intervals. I overtake a couple and one bloke overtakes me but I catch and repass him on the final length. Out of the pool, hand in my swimming cap (never worn one before - feels weird), down the slippery steel steps and into Transition 1. Have you ever tried to put socks onto damp feet really quickly without falling over? Bloody difficult. Swallow my pride and eventually sit down on the job. Number 955 grabs his mean machine and heads out onto the Warwickshire roads. As I had suspected this turns out to be my best discipline by a mile. I am passed by no one and I overtake a stack of people including quite a few who had gone off on their half swim before I started my full one. Feeling pretty chipper as I cruise back into Transition.

Been there, done that, got the T-shirt

Pride cometh before a fall. I have hardly done any running because of my penchant for injuring my legs and have definitely not done enough bricks (bike + run training - see Overgraduate 26 Feb 2011). The last fortnight spent carbo-loading with Guinness has not helped either. (Note to self - this form of sporting diet is crap). Anyway Pig pulls away smoothly enough and I soon pass a chap I had spoken to at the pool side and who is only doing the wimp version. Clearly an inexcusable lightweight. Legs feeling heavy as expected but wind feels good. I can do this. Do feel a litttle sick which is my own stupid fault for showing off by eating an unneeded energy bar during the bike ride. Then a new sensation - my back goes into spasm, something it hasn't done for years. Stop. Stretch. It eases. Run again. Spasm. Stop. Stretch. Run. You get the picture. Net result a few people pass me but not as many as I overtake, mind you we are not exactly the finest flower of English youth out on the course at this stage. I even muster the energy for some gallantry at the end. A woman suddenly halts to a walk ahead of me. I coast (this is an exaggeration) up to her and encourage her to run with me for the short distance that remains. We chat briefly - I am relieved to find she is only doing the 'Fun' tri and she kindly feigns admiration of my greater effort. At the finish line I let her sprint ahead - that's my story anyway.

I cross the line to the cheers of my fan club - all two of them (Sharon and Helen) and pose for the triumphant photo. Bloody marvellous. Back now fine of course.

Verdict? Bring on the next one - Yorkshire 19 June is the plan, including my open water/wet suit debut. Absolutely miles better than a marathon - at least this time there was no sod in a rhino costume outsprinting me.