I won a bum-numbing ski-bike-row race in a Telford warehouse

I have never won a triathlon. Furthermore, in almost 25 years of trying, I have never come close to winning a triathlon. 

In fact the closest I have ever come to tasting victory is to briefly lead two races, most memorably at Challenge Almere in 2015 when, at the height of my swimming powers, I was first out of the water – to a chorus of utter bafflement from the crowd who were expecting some sort of chiselled European elite. Instead they got a skinny middle-aged Brit in a battered wetsuit comprising at least 50% Black Witch repair glue. 

I’ve long been resigned to my place among the also-rans and to be honest I consider it a victory of sorts if I appear on the same results page as the winner.

Although even that’s becoming rarer. This season my biggest injury risk is repetitive strain injury in my thumb from scrolling down the results looking for my name. 

Single-sport victories

I keep trying though because, frustratingly, I have managed to pull off some spectacular victories in the constituent parts of triathlon. 

I know you know I’ve won a few swimming races in my time. But I have also managed to stagger over the line first in a time-trial or two. In running events from a Parkrun (admittedly back in 2012) to a trail marathon around the Shropshire tundra. 

I’ve even managed to put a couple of bits of Tri together on occasion, winning a number of swimrun races. But it seems that putting three things together has been beyond me – until now. 

Ski, bike, row but indoors

No, I still haven’t won a triathlon but I have now chalked up a victory in a Driathlon, which if nothing else is only one letter away. 

Driathlon, for the uninitiated, is a ski, bike, row race, and if that sounds incredibly dramatic let me burst that bubble by saying that it’s all indoors, in my case in a warehouse on an industrial estate in Telford. 

The event comprises 20 minutes on one of those ‘Ski Attack’ machines, 20 minutes on an exercise bike, and 20 minutes on a rowing machine. 

Naturally I fancied my chances on the turbo trainer. But in the interests of full disclosure I must confess that I have never been skiing in my life. As a Midlander my opportunities for rowing are few and far between. 

Calories count

Victory is determined however not by the amount of distance travelled. But by the number of calories burned. As I recently got into a sweat building a bird box, I thought I might do okay. 

The event started promisingly enough when I realised that ski machines are a bit like doing fly. My big Gibbon arms soon swung into action. 

Doing 20 minutes of pretend fly isn’t an activity to be generally recommended. But the fact that I wasn’t having to kick meant I could at least keep it going rather than dying on my arse after 25 metres. 

After that it was straight on to the bike, but… sting in the tail… no cleats , or even toe straps! No, just pedals. 

I’ve spent two almost three decades getting at least 50% of my power by pulling up rather than pushing down. So this came as a blow, particularly to my quads. 

However thanks to my habit of training by racing Deliveroo e-bike riders while out on my shopping bike I was able to summon up enough down pressure to get me through this atrocity in one piece. 

And finally the rowing. I won’t lie, I was crap at this. I think I might have been the first person in the history of the sport to do 20 minutes without once bending my knees. 

‘Like sitting in a three-hour traffic jam’

But worse still was the numb backside. It was horrible, within five minutes I was shifting around in the seat like I’d been in a three-hour traffic jam. Bugger that, give me a razor blade bike saddle any day. 

Fortunately I’d built up a healthy enough lead in my first two rounds that my complete ineptitude at rowing didn’t cost me victory. I was duly crowned champion complete with certificate and plastic trophy to go on the mantlepiece next to the signed photo of Tim Don. 

My calorie burning exploits also earned me a place in the regional finals in Nottingham, however I couldn’t go because it was the same day as a swimming gala – phew.