Tranent Sprint Triathlon - a victory for Loctite 9461

It worked! The glue worked! Loctite 9461, stand up and take a bow! Actually, thinking about it, just stay exactly where you are until at least après Ironman France.

Just as well it held together really, because it was so cold and windy that my eyes were constantly streaming and I could hardly see the road, let alone examine my bottom bracket for hairline cracks on the move. Nevertheless, since the event incorporated the Scottish University Sprint Triathlon Championships, there was plenty of other lycra encased bottom brackets to examine.

Build up: The air of pre-race tension was palpable, or perhaps that was just down to the frequent visits to the bathroom after the poor timing of the bacon roll snack. Apparently The Editor has vanquished these nervous, ahem, 'jitters' and no longer needs to hunt around all floors of the building for an empty cubicle before a race. I wonder if his training programme includes a specific section on this subject?

The Swim: The over-riding thought going through my mind up to lap 20 (out of 30) was "When is this going to end?". The other 4 blokes in my lane had all overtaken me, but gradually and gracefully I accepted that I wasn't the fastest swimmer and used the remainder as my first proper attempt at "drafting". We exited the pool in quick succession, like the left hand side of Noah's gangplank; one by one.

The Bike: I was exceedingly pleased to overtake the aforementioned 4 blokes inside of the first kilometer. This was the only highlight of the event and I was loving my decision to avoid going totally anaerobic during the swim as I glided past the Z4 heart rate boys. The over-riding thought going through my mind for the entire remainder of the bike was "When the hell is this going to end?". The awfulness was blissfully interrupted when deciding if I should have a go at some 8 year old neds who were pretending to throw punches at all the cyclists on the way past.

The Run: I quickly passed one bloke on the first incline and didn't see a single other competitor for the remainder of the run. The over-riding thought going through my mind for the entire remainder of the run was "When the fcuk is this going to end?". My back was increasingly crippling me, my motivation had deserted me and there wasn't any of the usual lycra clad pace setters to distract the mind.

The Post Race: I met Alan the prospective Ironman at the snack stand. He was very nice, but the snacks were not. The over-riding thought going through my mind whilst eating the free ham sandwich was "When in God's name is this going to end?".

The Analysis: It turns out that being more than 20 stones for the majority of my adult life has actually been advantageous. It's very clear that my massively overdeveloped, load bearing legs are functioning well. From the event photographs, they actually look like they belong to one of those old ladies that you see in shopping centres - the ones who's ankles spill out over the tops of their shoes.

The Result: I don't think there is a clear victor between The Editor and I. It's a cliche, but we were both winners. Irrespective of the fact that my clock stopped more than 4 minutes ahead of his, we have both improved dramatically during our winter training; something that will be reinforced at the impending East Fife Sprint Triathlon.

Only whilst writing this entry has it dawned on me that my complete lack of enjoyment of the entire event can be narrowed down to one single issue - that I haven't even hit my stride during the distances of a Sprint Triathlon. I've become a stamina seeker.

Current weight is 13 stones 2 pounds (184 pounds / 83.5 kg).