My usual Sunday morning training was sidelined today. Instead of a brisk six mile run and various strengthening exercises with a nearish contempory I had committed myself to a run leg in a duathlon, (run, bike, run). Our team toed the line with a total of 95 years of experience. Most of the years, if not the experience was supplied by yours truly. A world champion kick boxer, a good cyclist and a rather geriatric runner, this was the make up of today's dream team.
I had been told that the event would be quite low key, but in the event ninety three individuals were at the start line including a few relay teams.The first leg was run by the son of my usual Sunday training companion. He finished his 3k strongly and passed three individuals in the run in to the changeover to bring us in a very respectable twelfth. The team, "nomme," then set off on his bike ride. No news from the course, so it was a matter of keeping warm and waiting for his arrival back at transition. The first competitor rode in, pulled on his running shoes and headed off on his second run. Some forty seconds later the next competitor arrived. Then my teammate. He had moved us from twelfth to third. It was not going to be a matter of running in the pack!
My run was over an out and in course, with the first half being slightly downhill and as a consequence the second half being slightly uphill. I managed to pass the second placed runner within a kilometre and at the turn I could see that I was catching the leader, but unfortunately not quickly enough. He still had fifteen seconds on me at the end and of course he had completed the entire duathlon without any team assistance. One does have to place these things in context.
Munchies courtesy of our cyclist's momma followed our exertions. A welcome repast.