Some Walruses took on the Outlaw Half Holkham – self titled as THE UK’S MOST BEAUTIFUL TRIATHLON. Find out here how they got on.
*The beginning*
First there was Bizzle. He wanted to prove he wasn’t just a swim and run guy. He wanted to ensure that all those hours of 5am cycling in Watopia over the winter with Leslie and Moggy were not done in vain.
Then there was me. I asked my friend from EF Education Nippo if he fancied a weekend off domestiquing for Huge to come along to Norfolk with me. He said he had no idea who Huge was or what I was on about but he’d like to come along.
Then Teo joined the crew. Teo wanted to prove he wasn’t just a bike guy. His Ironman 70.3 in Austria was looking unlikely and so Holkham seemed like a satisfactory alternative. JP and Georgie signed up with Teo.
Then came the greedy Monkfish. He loves points. He lurves the points. He just cannot resist.
Finally there was Whitto. Whitto signed up because he always signs up. He’d worry about the what and the when and the where later.
The team had been assembled and what a fine team it was.
*Months before race day*
Through my meticulous monitoring of strava, I knew that for most members of the team the training block before the event was going to plan. Bizzle was doing a lot of very fast bike rides followed by little runs that he liked to call ‘Brick sessions’. In fact, Bizzle’s training looked very good. It transpires that he’d paid a mystery man on the internet to tell him what to do. I suspect it was George Humphreys. He always knows what to do. Teo was in fine shape, doing his weekly konkoffs with Flembo. JP, Georgie, Alberto and Monkfish are all fine athletes and seemed perfectly ready too. However, I was slightly worried about Whitstable. All he’d done were a few short runs during which he claimed his knees were in great pain and that he had to stop for many breaks. I wasn’t sure if he was ready.
I fired off a
few messages to him telling him to go for a swim or a bike ride but he flat out refused. Finally the Oxford chain gang managed to tempt him out for a 45k ride. They immediately dropped him and he cycled home on his own. He wasn’t yet ready.
*A week before race day*
In the days leading up to the event I received a series of increasingly desperate excuses from Whitstable about why he couldn’t come. His final attempt was a severe case of the squits that he claimed he’d got from a dodgy dhal. He never eats dhal. I wasn’t buying it. I dragged hi
m into my van along with Alberto and we made the long drive to Holkham. Whitstable seemed happy in the back, giggling with Alberto and stuffing his face with his gluten free crackers. He must be ready.
The day before the race the team met at the expo to rack our bikes. Teo marched about frantically shouting into his phone. JP and Georgie and Bill all seemed relatively calm. Alberto was still wondering who Huge was whilst Monkfish babbled on about how he used to live in Australia. Whitto decided that now was a good time to try out his brand new clip in pedals. He clipped in, cycled along a bit, stopped, didn’t clip out and then toppled over. Is he ready?
The evening before the race we went down to a local pub called The Nelson to watch England play against Ukraine. We got chatting to a nice man named Ian. Ian told us that it was all as flat as a pancake around here so no need to worry about any hills. He, however, was worried about getting delayed by the cyclists in the morning as he had to be at work by 6am. On another table there were a group of friends enjoying a Saturday night out. The ring leaders, a lady called Vicky and a man called Danny had bought a bottle of sambuca that they were sharing around and a rolled up twenty pound note that everyone seemed to be taking into the toilet. As the evening progressed Danny and Vicky and their friends seemed to get more and more excited about life but less and less interested in the football. By now Ian had also gotten himself into a bit of a state. At 4-0 and with Ian lying flat on his back with his legs in the air having smashed into a table, we decided it was time to call it a night and head back to camp before the big race. We needed to be ready.
*Race Day*
Eutrophication is the process by which a body of water becomes progressively enriched with minerals and nutrients from the surrounding land, usually due to water runoff and soil leaching. The lake on the Holkham Hall Estate had been eutrophied. Clearly the minerals and nutrients used on the surrounding land had been cow and goose shit. We plunged our quaking bodies into the stinking sludge. I knew it wasn’t Whitto’s dhal as he was in a wave that started after me. However, it was equally unpleasant. You couldn’t see more than a cm in front of your face. Arms and legs thrashed violently around me as the bodies gasped for fresh air. There was none. I soon got into a nice rhythm and pondered what lay ahead. I hadn’t imagined starting the day with a 1900m swim through cow and goose shit. I wondered if I would catch Monkey who had started before me. I wondered if I would be able
to hold off the charging pack that were starting behind. Surely Teo’s massive firing pistons would close me down on the bike leg. Before I knew it, the swim was over. 38 minutes. Not bad. I charged into transition and grabbed my bike. 4 minutes.
Longer distance events give a lot of time for wondering. As I settled into the bike ride I also settled into my wondering. What Ian was up to? Did he make it to work on time? Would he still be over the limit and come speeding round the corner and knock me off? Would Teo’s enormous pistons come flying past? Did Whitto make it out of the swim alive? How does Alberto not know who Huge is? Why does Bizzle look so much like his dog? Has Monkfish ever done an ironman? 2h36 minutes later my wondering was over. I hadn’t seen any of the Walrus herd. Just a lot of men called Matt and James.
As I rumbled into T2 I saw a bewildered Monkey. Disorientated and afraid he was running the wrong way. A who’s this? My stalker appeared. It was Teo Bernal. His powerful legs had closed me down and now he was mere seconds behind me, cheerfully calling my name. Out of T2 in 2 minutes.
200m ahead of me was little Monkey. His pitter patter feet pitter pattering along. 200m behind me was Teo, his thundering stride battering the ground that lay before him. I must catch little Monkey. I must not let big Teo catch me. The crowd at this point were really getting into the swing of things. Mine and Alberto’s respective partners, Teo’s family and Claire, Amy Bizzle and Dog Bizzle and Nicola Monkfish were all there screaming encouragement.
The Sexy Walrus tri suits were also garnering some attention from other members of the crowd. ‘There is another little Walrus just ahead of you, go get him’ an old lady cried. ‘There is a giant monster walrus just behind you, keep going’ chirped a small boy.
Eventually I managed to close down the pitter patterer. We ran together, chatting merrily about how well we were doing and how fast we were running. Sometimes, on the uphill Monkey would run ahead. On the downhill I would run ahead. On the final lap I managed to break clear of little Monkey, I didn’t want to hear any more about Australia. I came down the carpet alone, arms out and feeling very pleased with myself. 1hour36 minutes rounded off a respectable and pleasing personal best time. Monkey came home shortly after.
We stood at the finish to che
er on the rest of the herd.Teo, Bizzle, JP, Alberto and Georgie weren’t far behind. The event MC was loving the Walrus kit. ‘This is the best triathlon kit I have ever seen’ he boomed. But where was Whitstable? Had his squits caught up with him? Maybe he wasn’t ready after all?
Then I saw him. Hewas coming round from his final lap on the run. A grimace on his face but beneath it a wry smile. The kind a baby makes when they immediately poo in a fresh nappy. He’d done it. Old Whitstable crept down the finish carpet. He had been ready.