I need more than a padded leotard for triathlon test
Package aroused my suspicion when it was not much larger than A5 and weighed an ounce
Iam not wearing that. It is so long ago now but, in 2019, I said in this column that I would train up and enter my first triathlon. The whole of 2020 was pretty much a wipeout for casual triathletes such as me.
They got Blenheim on but not much else and, as a token acknowledgement of my intention, I did stick in a long-range entry for a “sprint” triathlon – if this is a sprint, 400-metre swim, 28km bike and 7km run, show me the stayers’ race – for a weekend next month when there is not much horse racing on.
But, a bit like an after-dinner speaking engagement you accept eight months in advance slightly hoping it will never happen and that either the dinner will be cancelled or the world will end in the intervening period, the Beyond Cotswolds Triathlon has rather crept up on me.
It is still a bit cold for outdoor swimming training (what kills you, I find, does not make you stronger),
I have forgotten everything that Olympic triathlete Vicky Holland taught me in a swimming lesson at Bath, the initial inspiration for me to have a go at a triathlon, and my wetsuit (£20 from a westbound M5 motorway service station) is missing, possibly still in storage after moving house, possibly disintegrated by now.
My bike squeaks a lot and the application of hoof oil, the only lubricant round here, has done little to quell it. It is also prone to punctures from flints on the roads near home, and a wicked chill wind at the tail-end of winter and into early spring has made riding it not much fun either.
The running has been fine but there has been a shortage of time, what with Cheltenham and Aintree and the school holidays.
Just about the only positive is that in the intervening two years I slipped from one age category to another. It is, I feel, better to be young in an older category (55-60s) than old in a younger category (50-55s), which, relatively, means I will have youth on my side.
I have had the emails from the organisers about what to wear and how the event will proceed in a Covid-compliant way – a staggered, instead of mass, start and twometre social distancing in the water, 10 on a bike, two for running.
This could play in my favour, as anyone wanting to overtake me on the second leg, if I am not already at the back, will pretty much have to leave the road to do so.
I have no idea about transitioning from one leg to the next, but extricating oneself from a wetsuit with the zip at the back without assistance is something one imagines not even Houdini would have found easy.
In an attempt to be slightly proactive, though, I ordered, online, a “tri-suit”, which I believe you wear throughout, under the wetsuit, on the bike and on the run. With a view to catching up with Amazon, if an item is being sent by Royal Mail these days you get a text and email saying when it started its journey, when it will arrive and when the postman is anticipating his coffee break.
You are informed almost every time your package goes around a corner. This does little to manage expectation and one is whipped up into a frenzy of excitement by the time it arrives, which nine times out of 10 can only be met by disappointment.
The package immediately aroused my suspicion when it arrived in something not much larger than an A5 envelope, weighing not much more than an ounce.
All I can say is that “suit” is something of a misnomer in this instance – it is more like a leotard with a bit of extra padding in the crotch area, just enough to make it feel like a wet nappy after the swim, for the second phase.
I am not totally sure what I am wearing but, resolutely, I am not wearing that.