London Triathlon - Sprint Distance

The way I see it, I wasn’t born with fins or wheels – and someone has to finish last! At least I’ll never forget my first triathlon.

They actually called this a ‘sprint triathlon.’ It means rather than completing the full distances of each discipline, you only have to complete a 750m swim, 20km bike and 5km run. The word ‘sprint’ also insinuates you are supposed to complete it fast – but that bit got lost somewhere along the way with me.

As I drove through central London towards the Excel Centre, I felt nervous but relatively optimistic, until I heard a fellow competitor on the radio. He was explaining that the triathlon was different to any other sport in that you have to be well trained in all three disciplines and pretty good at all three – it was then that I became really nervous.

I pulled up at the huge venue along with some 10,000 other participants. My car didn’t look out of place in the car park but when I got my 12-year-old mountain bike out the back it started to dawn on me that I might not fit in here. I wheeled it towards the venue behind a procession of extremely expensive and well maintained racing bikes, most of which had been driven in on purpose made bike racks – rather than, like mine, stuffed in the boot.

After registering I had to set up my gear. I went over to mount my bike on the racking, which is where I’d be collecting it from immediately after my swim. My preconception was that I’d be up against 300 men of the general proportions of your average Gorilla. However, I was pleased to see a whole range of body frames – all of who were keen to give me tips and put my mind at rest about the challenge ahead. Despite their gallant efforts to reduce my nerves, all of their advice had one common thread - not to be too disappointed if I didn’t do as well as I hoped I would. By this point, I was just hoping I’d finish – I was soon to realise this was still a little optimistic.

Due to the high number of competitors, the triathlon was conducted in waves of about 300 people. Twenty minutes before my wave set off, we were all stood in a corner of the giant exhibition centre all dressed in our wet suits looking like grey seals (I wasn’t the only person to hire the standard wetsuit and donning a blue London triathlon swim caps).

We were given a few safety tips – along the lines of don’t drown and avoid swallowing the water - and were taken down to the entry point – a 100 meter swim across the River Thames to the start line and everyone gets them selves into position.

The general guide is if you’re not confident or new to it all, start at the back or side to avoid getting caught up in a mass of bodies. I’d judged my own swimming ability and positioned myself half-way back, which I thought would be plenty of room. A short blast of the air horn and I saw my life flash before my eyes – where did all those feet and fists come from?

My front crawl soon switched to breast-stroke with the aim of enabling me to see and breath. Amongst the midst of every one else doing front crawl this had a two-fold effect, I got kicked, hit and punched virtually from every angle and my slightly slower pace meant there were people swimming around me. Actually, at one point, I do believe someone was trying to swim over me!

At some point amongst all the frenzy, I remember thinking to myself how can fast food be bad for you, after I’d seen the second McDonalds box overtake me, as it floated down the Thames.

Despite my best efforts as I approached the final stretch back to the first transition, I was comfortably in… last place. OK well onwards and upwards – we all know now that swimming is not my strong point. Fortunately I was able to run through the area to the next task where I was able to overtake a few of the other back markers. I came to my second challenge, cycling, which provided another rude awakening and an excellent demonstration of the importance of getting the right equipment for the job.

With my wet suite off, as I headed out on my trusty old bike with its shinny new racing tyres, I felt a lot more comfortable. I even managed to shout out to another competitor, saving him from cycling straight into the back of another cyclist who had stopped in the middle of the first straight – my good deed done for the day. Afterwards though and for the next embarrassing 20km that followed, all I kept thinking was if I hadn’t helped the guy I would have at least been in front of two people!

It didn’t take me long to realise that my trusty 12-year old mountain bike, even with new tyres, was no match for a good racing bike – no matter how hard I turned the pedals. The final blow came for me when a big guy with the blue fluffy ears stuck to his helmet whizzed past me without even turning the pedals – that’s just showing off! This experience gave me a flash back to the very first marathon I ever completed. During the race I was overtaken by a Womble – I can’t describe how sole destroying that is when you still have 13-miles to run. I was, of course, much younger then and was determined to beat him across the finish line, which I did, but this time with my new but woefully under-pumped tyres and peddling like a mad man I wasn’t sure that I’d catch the blue ears.

I must just say at this point that once out of water all the guys did all give shouts of support and there was a particular charity runner to who I am grateful for being particularly encouraging.

As I approached the end of the cycling challenge although it had been hard work, I must admit that I felt much more energised than I had expected to feel, with the benefit of liquid intake being easy on the bike than when running. I made another smooth transition into the last element of the triathlon – the run. Finally, something I was good at. I knew this part of the challenge would enable me to start overtaking a few people and improving my position. It did, but sadly the only people I was overtaking, I thought, were those from the wave of competitors who had started after my group. By the time I got onto the track most of my group were already through or close to the finishing line!

Well at 5km, the run was over before it started and despite all the experiences I had gone through since that initial air horn, I was suddenly shocked that it was over so soon – even if it had taken me a lot longer to complete it then many of the other competitors.

As I walked through the exhibition centre finishing a bottle of water, I couldn’t help but think - I wish I could have another go. The combination of different events meant the normal exhaustion I would expect to feel, had it just been a run, wasn’t there. Left in the place of exhaustion was an intense feeling that I wanted to do it all again… but obviously, improve.

Later that evening, after my wife stopped laughing at my day’s exploits, I attempted to drown myself for a second time – this time, my sorrows, with a tub of cookies and cream ice cream! It must have worked, for I woke up the following morning to find I’d actually finished 176th out of the 246 official finishers in my group. I must have made up more time than I’d initially thought during my run. This lifted my spirits and I’ve located my local triathlon group and am determined to compete in another to the full Olympic distance next year. Next time I’ll know what to expect and I’ll certainly be looking to make big improvements to my performance.