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Event	Bedford Traktors Triathlon
Distance	Sprint triathlon — 400m swim / 24km bike / 5km run
Date	13 June 2010
Location	Aspects Leisure Park, Bedford
Condition	Sunny
Kit Highlights	Cycling shorts, t-shirt, Saucony runners
Entry fees	£30

Swim	Bike	Run
400m	24km	5km

Goal	Result
Finish	✅ Done

Finish Time	Age Group	Gender	Overall
1:22:34	18th	65th	78th/170

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Every triathlete has a first race. This was mine.

Bedford Traktors Triathlon, 13 June 2010. A sprint at Aspects Leisure Park — 400m pool swim, 24km on the bike, 5km run around a lake. I am lining up with 169 other people, wearing cycling shorts that are about to get very wet, a t-shirt that is not remotely aero, and a helmet that is not either. My Saucony running shoes have normal laces. I have a Polar watch with a GPS module the size of a small brick bolted to my bike.

I have been training with Tri-Force in St Albans for about a year. I entered this race because it is local, because my colleague Tina’s husband Steve is racing it, and because I needed something to replace volleyball. That is genuinely the origin story.

My wife-to-be is here to watch. Tina and Steve are here. The goal, in its entirety, is to finish.

Steve, Tina’s husband, a decade older than me, finishes in 1:12:53. Eighteenth overall. He beats me by nearly ten minutes in the 45–49 age group. This is the man who introduced me, via his wife, to this sport. I file that information away.

I have been swimming since joining Tri-Force, but I am not what anyone would call a confident freestyle swimmer. At this point, I am probably faster at breaststroke. Pool swim or not, the swim will be the weak link.

As for the kit, there is no tri suit. No wetsuit — it is a pool swim, so none is needed, which is lucky, because I do not own one. I am wearing club cycling shorts. The plan is to swim in them, pull a t-shirt on in transition, and get on with it. There may be a towel involved. I have not overthought this.

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The leisure centre pool is loud. Echoing, chaotic, busy with swimmers setting off one at a time. I am not a pool swimmer in any meaningful competitive sense. I get in, I make it to the other end repeatedly, and I try not to get in anyone’s way.

Ten minutes and four seconds for 400 metres. One hundred and thirty-ninth out of 170. There are faster people here who have probably been swimming since they were five. I have been swimming competitively for about a year. The gap is obvious and not a surprise.

I haul myself out of the pool, dripping, in cycling shorts.

Socks. T-shirt. Helmet. Shoes. Go. There is possibly a towel. The finer details of this transition are lost to time, but nothing about it is fast or elegant. One minute forty-two seconds, which feels about right for someone doing this for the first time with no template to work from.

This is where the race changes. Not because I am fast — I am not — but because most of the 139 people ahead of me after the swim are apparently not cyclists. I pass a lot of them.

The bike is a Trek TT, my first-ever time-trial bike, purchased on eBay for £700. It is not a particularly sophisticated machine, and I am not a particularly sophisticated rider, but it fits well enough, and I know how to push on a bike. The course takes us out of the leisure park onto roads that are quiet — a few marshals, not many spectators — before bringing us back in. I have no power meter, no real pacing strategy. I just ride.

47:25. Fifty-sixth overall. I go from 139th to 56th in one leg. The bike is, clearly, my sport.

Helmet off. Tie laces. Run. Just under a minute, which would be fine if I had elastic laces. I do not. I tie them properly. Old habits.

The run is 5km around the park — a lake, a path, a few dog walkers calling out encouragement. It is not fast. My legs are not happy. Nobody’s legs are happy at this point in their first triathlon. I run, and people say well done, and I keep running.

22:22. Seventieth. I pick up a few places, but nothing dramatic. The swim deficit is too large to fully recover from, and the legs are complaining. I crossed the line in 1:22:34.

Seventy-eighth overall. Eighteenth in my age group. Sixty-fifth male finisher.

My wife-to-be is somewhere near the finish. Tina is there. Steve has already finished, long since. The race is done.

I do not remember a euphoric finish line moment. What I remember is that it is over, that I finished, and that the bike leg was fun. That is enough.

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Swim	T1	Bike	T2	Run	Finish
10:04	1:42	47:25	0:58	22:22	1:22:34

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• A few things stand out, a week on.
• The swim is the problem. One hundred and thirty-ninth is a big hole to dig out of. Cycling shorts are not a tri suit and a t-shirt is not a race kit. Normal laces cost time. None of this is a revelation — it is just the gap between doing something for the first time and doing it properly.
• The bike, though. Fifty-sixth from one hundred and thirty-ninth. That is where the time is made back. That is the leg that feels natural. If I keep doing this — and I think I might — the bike is the foundation to build from.
• Steve beat me by ten minutes. He is ten years older. I am going to have to fix the swimming.

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Organisation	7/10
Course	6/10
Atmosphere / Crowd	5/10
Post-Race Experience	4/10
Value for Money	8/10
Overall	6/10

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