Progress

"Have you lost some weight?"

"Why yes I have!"

Alarm bells ringing from the Salty Sea Dog, I set about a life of purity and cleanliness.  My body is a temple, my desk a shrine to fruit.  I teach myself to scorn biscuits; to despise chocolate; to look disapprovingly (but affectionately) at beer and wine.  Remarkably, it starts paying off.  Not, perhaps, quite as spectacularly as one might hope or expect, but definitely.  Six weeks later, and I sit here half a stone lighter, and feeling pretty darn pleased with myself.

That said, I fail to make many in-roads into actually improving my times.  My training plan is still ad-hoc, whatever happens to spring to mind that morning.  Then again, it doesn't cause me too much cause for concern.  I figure that just having a level of fitness that will let me get through an Olympic distance triathlon is just dandy - either way I won't be first, and I won't be last, so why worry? We should never forget to enjoy the moment.

The Pier to Pier swim is the milestone for my swimming, 1.4 miles west to east along the coast from Bournemouth to Boscombe.  As the 12th July date approaches, Emma and I (for the reigning Mrs Piper is signed up for this little adventure too) keep an eye on the weather, which slowly worsens as the week progresses.  Sun turns to sunny spells, which turns to overcast, which turns to thick cloud, and then rain, with 20mph winds.  It comes as no surprise when it's postponed a couple of days beforehand.  It's also unsurprising when the rearranged date is announced as the 9th August, the very same day as the London Triathlon.

Unperturbed, we decide to stage our own Pier to Pier the following Sunday, along with Karen, who is also doing the London Tri.  Emma and I have had regular sea swims to work up to this, so I'm actually feeling well prepared, and it helps that the morning comes with bright sunshine and relatively calm seas.  The water is about as warm and as clear as you can hope for in the English Channel.  Clad in wetsuits, we weave through the tourists to the water's edge in the shadow of Bournemouth Pier, cap and googles on, and in we go.

If there is one thing to be said about swimming, it is that there is little to say about swimming  But the water and the company and the sunshine make it - whisper it quietly - pleasant.  We maintain a steady pace and a steady course, although on the couple of occasions I start to breathe to the right I veer off line alarmingly quickly.  In the latter stages the ladies also show that they're more competent swimmers than I and leave me trailing somewhat, but I'm happy enough to prove to myself that the distance I'll face in London is perfectly achievable.

Less than three weeks, bring it on!