The most insane Triathlon… Ever

How far is too far?

Sometimes I wonder if my healthy exercise choice of triathlon has crossed over into a more unhealthy obsession. Sometimes the answer is obvious even to me (I don’t think my wife ever wonders), and one of those times happened this weekend. I’m going to play back a timeline of events that led to a truly insane level of commitment from a number of my enablers (I mean friends) to get to my most insane triathlon; I’d be interested in where people think any hypothetical lines may have been crossed….

Team Triathlon Race Day – 6 weeks to go

I froze and stared at it yet again. The advert for Fix Events team triathlon kept popping up on my facebook, a couple of times a day. I suspect this was probably because I clicked on it every single time. I’d done relay tris where each team member did a single leg, but this was for an event where each of us would do the swim in turn, then the bike, then the run. I really enjoy the other sort of relay because the atmosphere is brilliant and I fancied giving this one a go. Deciding to go for it, I popped a quick ask for team members on social media, and before too long had two very fast triathletes, Matt (my younger, much faster brother) and Martin (also younger, also much faster, not a biological brother), keen to make up a team.

5 weeks to go

We were in for a Saturday race. 400m swim, 15k bike, 5k run. I’d signed us up, had the confirmation and having added it to the calendar and let the boys know I’d consigned the event to a corner of my brain, ready to concentrate on it as we got much nearer. I was slightly concerned at the gap between my capabilities and theirs, but they were both relaxed and keen to try it out with no pressure; I was really looking forward to this now.

3 weeks to go

No no no no no no no! My day job keeps the lights on at home and pays for some of the ludicrous things I choose to do. The downside is that sometimes it gets in the way. An important customer had just told us we could have two days of his time in Seattle – but it was the Thursday and Friday before the Team Triathlon he was offering. There was no way I could possibly get back in time so I’d have to let the guys know and find someone to take my place. Sometimes having to work sucks.

2 Weeks, 6 days to go

I kept staring at maps and airline schedules. Was it 100% certain I couldn’t get back in time? Watching someone else take MY place in MY team would suck big fat hairy balls.

2 Weeks 5 days to go

Mathematically, I think I could make it work. If I left Seattle at Friday lunchtime rather than early evening (my colleague who I’d be leaving to wrap up was supportive) and flew into Gatwick (all the early flights into Heathrow were full at this short notice) I’d be landing at 7:10 am. The race didn’t start until 9:00. If I parked in the short stay and travelled hand luggage only, I could potentially be in the car at 7:30 giving me 90 minutes to complete a 45 minute drive to the venue. This was loads of time. I knew I was being a bit selfish, but wondered if Matt and Martin would buy it?

2 Weeks 4 days to go

Hmmm. Transition closed at 8:45 and I didn’t really want to leave a bike in a car parked at an airport short stay for two days. I reached out to the event organiser, explained the situation and asked if Matt could a) register for me and b) rack for me. They came back quickly, if slightly bemused and confirmed they would be ok with this. I would hammer the Fix Events team with a ever more ridiculous set of asks over the next two weeks and everytime they found a way to say yes.

2 weeks 3 days to go

I rang Matt and explained the situation. Much to my surprise he was really up for it, and we quickly agreed that I’d give him my bike at the end of an event we were both doing the week before, he’d take it and a small transition bag home, and have it all laid out for me by the time I arrived. I then messaged Martin, and was even more surprised that he was in. He helpfully suggested I ask the organisers if Matt and Martin could cover a leg for me if I was delayed – the answer quickly came back positive again.

2 weeks 2 days to go

Flights booked. Short stay car park booked. I was now pretty committed.

1 week to go

I had three bikes on the back of my car as we arrived at the season finale race. My son Dom’s bike was on the back with two for me – I have a shiny new road bike and wasn’t sure which bike was going to be faster in a weeks time. I hammered round the course on the new bike, reluctantly decided the older tt bike was faster and handed that to Matt to look after for me. We loaded his and my bike on his rack and I waved him off, already thinking about the business trip.

1 week to go – 6 hours

My phone rang and caller ID let me know it was Matt. I knew something was wrong as soon as the phone chirped; on the way home his bike rack had slipped on the car and the bikes had possibly hit the road. We’d both been saved by Matt’s oldest daughter who had spotted the movement instantly. Matt thought they looked ok but I asked him to run my bike up and down the road a bit in case I had no time to check at the race. He called me back a bit later and confirmed everything looked fine.

3 days to go

I arrived at the airport and parked up. In the boot I had a spare pair of trainers and a helmet (I don’t really know why as Matt had my main set – but I was really nervous about things going wrong). I’d laid out my wetsuit and had a trisuit and garmin in my hand luggage along with everything else I was taking.

13 hours to go to race start

I’d explained the complicated plan to the customers I’d spent the last two days with. They looked astonished, then laughed lots and wished me well providing I promised to send photos if by some miracle I made any of it. As I bundled into a cab for the thirty minute airport journey I fired up the airline app and immediately swore. A 1 hour delay meant I was already going to be late. Without a monster tailwind, my swim was gone. I messaged the team and quickly got back ‘Don’t worry, we’ve got you’.

11 hours to go to race start

The plane should have left an hour and forty five minutes ago, and I was still stuck on a bus at the bottom of the aircraft stairs, as the aircraft cleaning was finished. I was fuming. I was constantly doing maths in my head. Matt and Martin would take less than thirty minutes to complete all three swim legs. They would then take around thirty minutes each for their two bike legs. With five two minute transitions giving me an extra ten minutes, although there was no chance of me making the swim I would be able to make my bike leg if my total delay was less than about 2 hours ten minutes. Eventually the plane took off an hour and fifty minutes behind schedule.

5 hours to go to race start

I should be sleeping. I couldn’t – I was in an aisle seat in economy and being constantly jostled by people walking up and down the plane. More importantly I couldn’t stop watching the flight map on the bulkhead and the tiny icon of a plane that refused to speed up no matter how hard I glared at it.

90 minutes to go to race start

I slipped into the airplane toilet and climbed into a trisuit, then replaced all my clothes over the top. I had briefly considered sprinting for immigration in just the trisuit, but decided that was likely to trigger more delay than not looking like a weirdo. As I wrestled for space I found myself idly wondering just how on earth people have sex in these cubicles – I barely was able to get back into my jeans. Elsewhere, Matt had stickered my bike and helmet, topped up my tires, filled my water bottle and slipped a gel into my running shoes.

20 minutes to go to race start

The plane was on the ground. I’m normally very good at following the rules, but when the cabin crew announced they were going to be disembarking passengers with connecting flights first, I quietly got up and added myself to the back (I’m not a monster!) of this queue.

2 minutes to go to race start

After a frantic dash through the airport I was in my car, which I was relieved to see was intact. I think it’s probably impossible to actually run in a busy airport unless you are a parkour expert and perfectly willing to hurdle little old ladies. I’m neither of those things. I’d entered the race venue in the Satnav and was relieved that it was still telling me it was a forty five minute journey. I’d been convinced the roads would be much busier two hours later than I’d planned. Before I left the car park I quickly messaged the guys letting them know I would be there about forty minutes before they needed me for my bike leg.

2 minutes after race start

The Satnav pinged. The roads were much busier two hors later than I’d planned. It had updated the traffic and was forecasting a twenty five minute delay due to congestion. There was no way round it. Weirdly, I was relaxed – at this point all I could do was wait it out.

45 minutes after race start

I called Matt, knowing he’d done the extra swim leg and that Martin should be out on the bike. They were both flying and had smashed out the swims in less than 24 minutes. Martin had also taken less than 14 minutes to get more than halfway round the bike. We worked out that my new ETA of 1 hour 10 minutes after the race start should give me enough time to make transition, but only just.

1 hour 10 minutes after race start

I’d jammed the car into what I’d optimistically decided was a parking space right near the chicane which was the closest I could get to the transition area – about half a km away. Trotting past the chicane Matt came roaring through. As he passed I asked him what lap he was on (in my head he was on his second out of three giving me loads of time) but the wind yanked his answer away from me. I rang Martin, who was busily kitting up to ride my leg as well as his own at the same time he was messaging me – Matt was on his last lap and I only had a few minutes to arrive and kit up. I ran.

Racing up to the transition area I quickly explained what we were doing to the race organiser and pointed at Martin, jumping up and down and waving in the transition area. In moments I was charging to where Martin was pointing out my bike. After a journey totalling nearly 5000 miles I just had time to put my bike shoes and helmet on before Matt tore into transition and Martin grabbed his chip to pass over to me. I’d had substantially less than two minutes to spare.

1 hour and 15 minutes after race start

I’d last had a wee somewhere about Iceland. I’d last had a drink somewhere about Belfast. These two facts were not cancelling each other out in the way I’d hoped. I was thirsty and desperate for the loo. Twenty ish minutes more on the bike and I’d be able to take a breath and sort things out.

1 Hour and twenty minutes after race start

I was flying with a tailwind on the out leg of the second lap (which was more than the flipping plane had managed) and had suddenly realised why my projected timings were a little out; not only had the boys demolished their bike legs (both averaging 32.5 km/h even though the return leg exposed us to a brutal headwind) but I’d assumed two minute transitions – with each athlete ready to go these were only a matter of seconds each time. There were a lot of fast racers out there but the atmosphere was brilliant with lots of teams chatting with people they hadn’t known a couple of hours earlier in the transition pen.

1 hour and fifty minutes after race start

Bike leg done, and chip handed off to Martin I was finally able to take a breath. I had forty five minutes before I’d be leaving on my run leg and I was finally able to catch up with both my teammates in turn,

3 hours after race start

I’d run the last leg of the run; it was an amazing day, hot and clear and I’d pushed myself hard as I knew I had the team waiting for me. I also knew I’d dropped places, but was driving to mitigate the damage. As I closed on the finish, Matt and Martin swooped in from the sides so we could cross the line together and claim our medals.

3 hours and ten minutes after race start

The medal was a bottle opener as well. Cool.

We’d all enjoyed ourselves with the team triathlon. We would all definitely race as a team again. I don’t think I’d put myself or the team through that sort of stress again, but it did add an element of excitement.