The London Triathlon is (I think) an amateur event. People do it just for fun. So it's obviously much more attractive than the Olympics. I get co-opted most years for equipment transport. Triathlon comes in various sizes: 'Sprint', 'Super-sprint', and one that's actually called 'Olympic', which may mean they're doing it there as well. It was the 'Olympic distance I was doing roadie for: they swim one and a half kilometres, cycle forty kilometres, then run 10 kilometres. They even have a team event, which sounds like a fun introduction: one swims, one cycles, one runs; not, I suspect, over the olympic distances.
You may have heard of the 'Ironman' versions where they swim several miles, cycle hundreds of miles, then finish with a marathon. There is a story about one such triathlete who wanted to go to Paris, so he got on his bike, cycled to Dover, … oh, never mind, you're ahead of me anyway, aren't you?
All this means that ExCeL (that's how they spell it!) is full of people worth looking at. For example, if you see three people of roughly the same age on an occasion like this, I think two of them are likely to be siblings. So I can try and work out from their faces which two it is. I think I'm very good at this, but of course I never dare to ask (that's the sort of thing that can get you arrested). If only I could find a bookie prepared to take my bets. Then I'd find out.
Another area of special fascination is the 'boys' toys' furnished by the cycling, where you can spend simply fabulous amount of money on bikes and helmets. Bikes so thin you can't see them head-on. If they ran over you, they'd slice you leg clean off; helmets with pointy bits at the back that make them look like something out of Dr Who (for those of you old enough to remember the particularly naff alien costumes); and, of course, the lycra.
During the running, they mostly wear a T-shirt proclaiming the charity which is sponsoring them (although I think the 'sponsoring' is actually the other way round). I had a delightful moment where I spotted a lady wearing a 'Water-Aid' T-shirt. She was running along carrying a small paper cup of water! Was she a charity runner? Or was she special event staff? Was she racing off to some parched participant lost out in deepest Docklands desperate to have his lips moistened by this indefatigable St Bernard of the course? Or was it another of the many events in life which I totally misunderstand?
The running is the last stage, and by that time, the competitors must be lost in some endorphine-induced sub-consciousness. I remember watching the London Marathon one year at the point where the 'elite' men caught up with the 'elite' women. This is timed to be well into the race. One of the men simply ran into the back of one of the women and sent her flying to the ground. But what was really memorable was that she simply got back to her feet and carried on running at the same pace. I recalled this event as one small bo
y, no doubt here to cheer a parent on, not only escaped his keepers, but managed to get through the barriers and on to the running track. I expect during training he enjoyed getting picked up and swung round: being run into the ground would have come as a bit of a shock.
Looking at the women in the picture, I'm reminded of something else I noticed: most competitors seemed to swim alright, and most seemed to cycle alright, but some could run and some couldn't (not that that stopped them, of course!). What I found odd was that the men who couldn't run could still kind-of run, but the women who couldn't run really couldn't run. I wonder if it was just a skewed sample, or if there is some truth in that observation?
I took quite a few pictures: none were well-composed; none were in focus; very few were even of the right person. You really have to do your homework to be in the right place at the right time. I really admire those photographers who can capture sporting moments: and compose it well; and get it in focus. Of course it's not just the photographer: when I watch golf on the telly, and marvel at the cameramen following that tiny ball in close up, I have to remind myself that they can do that when Tiger Woods hits the ball, but they couldn't do it if it was me hitting the ball.
