Learning when to say “no” as a multisport athlete

“No!” See, it’s easy. “No, no, NO!” There, I can say it after all. Except, it seems that I can’t say it – at least I can’t seem to when I should.

There have been several times when not being able to say “no” has led me into a world of aggravation. Examples include:

• “Do you want to come and do the Superman Triathlon Vlaanderen in Belgium?” This was asked when I had literally just completed my first-ever triathlon. “No” should have been the answer because I was nowhere near ready. Sadly, “yes” came out.

• “Are you going to do Ironman Lanzarote?” said my great friend Neill after I had just completed my first Ironman in Canada. “No, f— off” should have been my answer, because it’s the hardest IM in the world. Instead, I heard myself say: “Go on then.”

• “Do you fancy doing a 24-hour swim?” said my friend Kelly. “No!” was the correct answer. “Yes,” said my stupid mouth.

There are countless examples over the years where my complete collapse in the face of the mildest peer pressure has led me to stand on some lake edge at the start of a race cursing my life choices.

I could be at home, or in bed, or walking the dogs like a normal person, but instead I am here, about to get cold, and wet, and tired, all because I didn’t say “no”.

And it continues to this very day. As I write this, I have just completed two events in two days, both of which I had ‘officially retired’ from.

Like all triathletes, we don’t do one sport, or even three sports, we do four – triathlon, and then all its parts as individual sports too (and five or six if you count duathlon etc). Consequently, triathletes can be found in swimming galas, time trials, road races, cross country, cyclocross etc, which we only do for training obviously, but in which we still charge round as fast as we can.

Well, without wishing to bring back unpleasant memories, in 2020 when events stopped due to lockdowns it made me realise just how much of my year I spent racing, and I resolved to knock a few sports on the head and give myself a bit of midweek and winter free time.

The sports I chose to stop were swimming galas, time trials, and XC running, so when they all started back up I simply didn’t return. Winner winner, more time for my dinner.

Except… all the people I know who do those sports have been working on me to come back. They started by telling me how much ‘fun’ I was missing, but I wasn’t going to fall for that rubbish. Then they tried telling me how they were one short for a team and needed me “just for one race”, but again I wasn’t falling for it because once they get their clutches on you they are harder to leave than a cult.

Their final tactic was flattery, which has seen such crude attempts as my swimming club coach saying: “Your speed has really improved, you should do the next gala”, and my running club saying: “You ran really fast in the road relays, you should come to XC”.

And has this insincere, rudimentary adulation worked? I regret to inform you that it has.

Thanks to my caving in to having smoke blown up my backside, in the past four weeks I have now competed in three XC races and two swimming galas, the last two of which were on consecutive days, which saw me slogging round the sodden and sodding foothills of Cofton Park in the Birmingham XC league on Saturday, before lining up on poolside against a bunch of 12-year-olds at the Coventry Winter Gala for such horrors as 400m freestyle and 200m breaststroke on the Sunday.

How does the Al Pacino quote from the Godfather go? “Just when I thought I was out, they pull me back in.”

Anyway it’s too late now and I am resigned to my muddy and watery fate this winter. But if anyone from my cycling club is reading this and is about to send out next season’s time-trial fixtures… “NO!” is the answer. At least, I think it is.

For more of Brunty’s shenanigans, check out his other columns on all things multisport and wacky challenges.