Lycra-clad speed freaks

Kurt, aka BTRS

Remember those lycra-crad speed freaks who cycled past me on the way to the casino?  They are the same people who let me join in on their sea swim a couple of months ago, but I didn't recognise most of them because they had their clothes on this time.  They are part of the Brighton Triathlon Race Series.

The lovely man who organises these free triathlons (Brighton Tri Race Series, or Kurt for short) said to me "Why don't you come join us and let us all laugh at how slow you are".  Actually, no he didn't, because he is lovely.  What he did say was "Why don't you come join us and give the whole thing a go sometime, not just the swim.  It's completely free, and finishers get a medal and a bit of chocolate".

Reader, he had me at chocolate.

I might remember a few weeks ago when I panicked myself into not only not drowning, but also not  completing the rest of one of these triathlons.  I wasn't sure whether to be disappointed that I didn't finish, or delighted that I was still alive.  To be honest, the jury is still out on that one.

I also remember Inspirational Steve mentioning something to do with cake before, during and or after the next triathlon, although he may have also mentioned something about chasing me until my lungs bleed on the run bit.  No, I'm sure it was to do with cake - chocolate cake,

So I said yes.

Anyway, I arrived in good time, and changed into my wetsuit.  In the middle of Marina Parade.  In front of a few interested tourists and a lot of uninterested triathletes.  It's amazing what even the remotest possibility of cake can do for me.  I must have done it the previous time too, but I don't remember how.  I'm pretty sure I didn't go to work in my wetsuit.  Even I would have noticed that.

This time the swim started badly, and I began to panic, but I remembered my Steve's tips.  Touch your armpits (aka zipper-drill for proper swimmers), sing a song and blow bubbles.  Except I had forgotten the words to my song.  Even with the zipping and the bubble blowing I was still last and still panicking.  It's amazing how long 20 minutes can be when you keep getting hit in the face with wave-fulls of water.

Yes, it was cold.  Yes, my bum is big.

But then I had to get out of the water, get out of my wetsuit, and get out on my bike.  And then run.
And I did.  See proof below.

My bum looks even bigger on a bike.
Note the bright yellow t-shirt, earned from running with the  bright yellow people five times

What happens next?  I always forget.
Yes, I ran.  And I was right about Steve - he made my lungs bleed.

My prize for winning.  I wish.  It's Steve's Olympic torch which he let me hold.
However I did win a toffee crisp for completing without crying too loudly.

In other news.....

Itchy and Scratchy have pooped in my triathlon kit bag and weed on my cycle helmet.  I wonder if the Brownless have to contend with issues like this.....