Wax on, wax off

An email plonks itself into my inbox, advertising the Thruxton Duathlon. A 5k run, a 20k bike ride, and another 5k run. Basically a tri but without the swimming evil.  It's terribly tempting - I can do those distances, but putting them all together right now might be a challenge.  I pore over last year's results to compare times (although the bike is 10k shorter this time), desperate to make sure I won't be last. I wonder whether I'm ready for it.

More importantly, I worry about the story arc of this blog.  Doing a race now would just be like revealing whodunnit in Chapter 2.  It would ruin the chances of it getting made into a Hollywood blockbuster, although I'm sure they could apply some artistic license.

And then I have an enlightenment, that it really doesn't matter.  I can come near the bottom, it's okay.  But if I don’t try it, I’ll never know.  If I do try it and come last, I’ll learn something about myself and about racing, and next time maybe I won’t be last.  Despite this, however, I still umm and aah about it.  I hold off signing up.

As I login to write this post, my Blogger dashboard shows me that someone has posthumously updated Scott's blog with the speech he wrote for his own funeral.  I read it again - "you have to take your chances when they come along. No, but really.  No, but *really*", he says.

Next Sunday, Thruxton Circuit, 10am.  I'll be there.  I might be last, I might not.  Actually, thinking about it, coming last would be great for the film, a bit like the Karate Kid.  Now I just need to see if I can get my wife to have an affair with some brute of a triathlete so that I can win her back.  Maybe he could slash my bike tyres or something. Then in July I'll pip him to the finish line where she’ll be waiting for me with open arms, and then we can limp off into the sunset to apply moisturiser.