Flying in the day before from Gatwick with a complexion translucent enough to make the Invisible Man jealous makes attempting a half-iron distance race in Antigua as sensible as facing local fast bowler Curtly Ambrose without wearing a helmet. In other words, it can do your head in.
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SoI don’t. I throw in the beach towel, not the tribars, borrow a bike from the local cycle club in St John’s and opt for the SuperSprint-ish 500m swim, 10km bike and 2km run instead. It might be the only other multisport option, but in a world of braggarts where longer always equals better, this is a dramatic come down – both in distance (and social media standing) – and as the 11, yes, count them ELEVEN, triathletes stand high-fiving in the waist-deep waters of Morris Bay before the start, my guilt is tinged with envy that I’m not among them. It doesn’t last long.
To describe the AUA Rohr Tinman triathlon as a mere 1.9km swim, 90km bike ride and 21.1km run, hardly does it justice. It’s more throwback to tri in its infancy when it cost a pittance to enter and you sweated over whether mind, body and frameset would emerge intact. This isn’t to say the road surface is poor but Neil Armstrong (whose first lunar broadcast was first picked up in Antigua) would have dismissed the moon’s craters as innocuous divots had he stood on this coastal highway.