Triathlon Tales

I like to think of myself as a hoopy frood so when I got out of the pool, dead tired, wet, breathless, shoulder sore, 11 whole long minutes after I had splashed my way in, and did I say cold and wet? and I forced myself to jog through to the transition area, I consoled myself with a heart-warming comforting thought: "At least", I thought, "at least I know where my towel is"

But it wasn't! Not only had my bike-rack neighbour overtaken me swimming but he had used the opportunity afforded him to steal my towel. "Sorry, mate, my mistake - use mine", he said, and reasonable it may have been, but it just wasn't the same. I was so put out I could hardly swallow my carbohydrate and caffeine gel.

Reader, I didn't swim fast; in fact only a couple of dozen people in the whole race were slower than me, but I didn't drown, and I had enough energy left to finish in the top half of the cycling, and to overtake more runners than overtook me. In the overall rankings I finished in the top two thirds, which was my aim, so I am happy.

Thames Turbo Triathlon over and done. What will I do with myself in the mornings now?