Harder, Better, Faster, Older

I realise on Friday morning that the alarming noises on the bike are probably the tortuous screams of bearings in the rear wheel hub crying out for grease, and I almost certainly need to replace the cones. With the wheel in for repair and little time to swim, I'm stuck with running for the weekend.  A good run on Friday night (1.5mi @ 9:19/mi) sets me up well.  At the end of it I'm bounding along and certainly feeling a lot better than I did on the last run.

My birthday arrives.  I treat myself to a day off from exercise and eating well, and fill it with cake and chocolate and wine and beer.  My body treats itself to a surprise case of backache, obviously put out that I should be advancing beyond 37 years feeling fitter and healthier than I have for a while.  My wife treats me to a custom made t-shirt with "ICANBUTTRI" on the front.  There is no going back from the blog now, which I guess means I have to do the triathlon too.

Out for dinner, my brother, a former amateur triathlete himself, offers various hints and tips.  Somehow, most of them - get a heart rate monitor, get a turbo trainer, you'll need a wetsuit, you could do with a new bike - involve spending money, preferably in the shop he manages.  It's fair to say that there could be some expenditure along the way.

After a fairly lazy Sunday, I get out for a run in the late afternoon.  It's a resounding success - for the first time I dip below 9 minute mile pace (1.5mi @ 8:49/mi).  I'm breathing hard, but then I feel aware that I ought to be thinking about increasing my endurance.  I walk briefly to catch my breath and then goad myself into another half mile, which I cover easily.

At home, I do warm down stretches in the lounge, in front of the kids eating their dinner.

"You look silly Daddy"

"It's not silly, it's sporty," I reply.

"But, you like computers and space and robots and things"

It's true, I do.