Late Bloomer?

Some musings on time going by…

Nine years ago today, on the 30th June, my daughter Robyn was born in Romford, Essex – just as I had been (albeit in a different hospital), almost 30 years before that. I think it’s natural to make comparisons with our same sex parent, and my dad having me at 27 was yet another sign that I was behind.

July 2010 – Petrified: “You must be kidding, but I’m just a kid myself.” How Far We’ve Come, Car Boot Tetris

Hours after her birth, and massively sleep deprived, I was at a job interview in Canterbury, Kent.

I got the job, which was a relief as my wife Laura was now going to be at home with our daughter – making me the sole breadwinner. We were DINKs no more (Double Income No Kids).

We had only got our mortgage and moved into our first home a few months before the birth, so it really did feel like a baptism by fire. Like I’d been catapulted from bouncing around from job to job, or rented room to rented room, to suddenly….”No! Grow the f*** up, you’re 30 in a couple of months, and now there’s 2 people depending on you!” It all seemed a bit too…mature.

OK, I managed to keep some semblance of youth and independence, by starting to play guitar in a band, but it definitely felt like the rest of “youth” had been ripped away – pretty viciously.

Like with these sporting events I’ve recently started to participate in – I had gone up an age group – but without seeing it coming. Our marriage, mortgage and daughter had all been planned…none of it was an accident, or unwished for…but the reality of how “adult” it all was didn’t really hit until I was in the thick of it.

My job was hard work as it was new, but it would cover the mortgage and bills so that was compensation enough – even if it meant only seeing Robyn awake at the weekend. I heard her at night, but Laura was what Robyn needed as she believed, “breast was best” (no arguments from me)!

I admit to feeling like a complete impostor at work and home – and still do to a large extent. Not because I’m trying to pull the wool over anyone’s eyes, or be all style without substance – it’s just that it has taken me a long time to figure ME out, let alone LIFE or anyone else. In fact a three year psychology degree was nowhere near long enough…I barely scratched the surface. What I did see on the surface, was pretty disappointing, and that was when I acknowledged one of my biggest fears.

I could ignore, and probably had ignored for the first 29 years, disappointing myself or other people I didn’t have much respect for. But here were two females, dependent on me – I had dependents – and although I might have had plenty of verbal encouragement and reassurance from them (oh OK, it was mostly Laura as Robyn had yet to learn to speak), I had a nagging feeling that THIS was the thing to avoid at all costs. Disappointing them. Being a disappointment. Less than. Not – good – enough.

I thought that by the time I had children I’d already be successful in my career, financially comfortable, have the body of a Greek God, a PhD, and have a song publishing deal and be a best-selling novelist. I thought I’d be rich, be in better control of my emotional states and feel confident about who I was and where I was going.

I had checked some other things off of my bucket list i.e. got my degree, travelled the world, lived abroad, learned to play guitar, learned to speak Spanish, written stories, screenplays and songs…but when I looked at it all, none of them had been a rip-roaring success by anyone else’s standards.

I kept telling myself, “I must just be a late bloomer, there’ll be some hidden talent inside you that will make an appearance any day now – and you’ll be saved.” Saved from mediocrity, from being average, from being a disappointment.

“Maybe I’ll win the lottery, then none of it will matter. Money will buy me love (or pay off my disappointment debt) via presents and holidays, and I’ll get a personal trainer to get me my Greek God bod…!” was a frequent fantasy on the train to West London each day. *Greek God bod syndrome comes from being given He-Man action figures most likely…SEE girls, it’s not just Barbie that’s the problem LOL! #metoo

I never had any serious thoughts of “not going home”…I might have been a bit of a loser, but not a selfish loser. I am fearful person by physiology, but I’m no coward – I don’t run to escape. I confront, I chase (mostly marathon goals these days). There were plenty of tears and tearing into punchbags when the opportunity presented itself, which wasn’t often as my work was all-consuming, time-wise at least.

If I think logically about how much has happened since 2010, “of course it’s been that long,” I tell myself. But the right half of my brain feels differently – it’s gone by in the blink of an eye. Robyn is growing up…FAST…another 9 years and she’ll be off to university or starting some other journey without us. It’s scary…and exciting.

9 years served…

I’ve often wondered how I’d spend my time if I was ever incarcerated (for a crime I didn’t commit of course), and I’ve come up with the following:

  • I’d make sure I read a lot
  • I’d write loads with no interruptions
  • I’d get in the best shape of my life
  • I’d save any money I could earn while inside
  • I’d help anyone I could – it might serve me when I got out
  • I’d see family and friends during visitation, and be as happy as I could be while they were there – share stories, have a laugh, ask how they’re all doing (but I’d be gutted when they left, and I had to go back to my cell alone)

So when it’s all put in perspective, my work is not actually as bad as a prison sentence. I get to come home each night – eventually. I get to do all of the positives that I would do in prison and don’ t have to face the scraps, showers, screws or solitary confinement. I have been here to watch Robyn and Ralph grow up so far, and I wouldn’t want to miss any more of that than necessary.

For that reason, my answer to the hypothetical question “would you commit a financially rewarding crime if you could walk away with X amount after X years in prison,” has changed over the years. As much as prison itself doesn’t scare me, disappointing my family and missing out on them growing up is enough to keep me on the straight and narrow. It’s certainly not purely out of a desire to be a “good citizen”, not when so many get away with so much, without consequence.

June 2019

Anyway, I digress. I am currently thinking a lot about the next 9 years. Robyn will turn 18, Laura and I will be nearly 48 (OMG)…and I feel optimistic.

I have some fantastic role models around me, and no shortage of encouraging friends and family. I still haven’t found “my thing” at 38, but I have a lot more useful energy and confidence than I had at 28, and some money saved for when I finally do find it.

Someone asked me my age last week, and I seriously had to stop and think about it…I had started to say twenty-…then I remembered I’m almost out of my thirties. F***! Was the next thought. I really don’t feel/believe I’m that old. Maybe that’s something I need to hold on to for as long as possible?

A famous old person once said, “At my age, you judge success by how many of the people you love, love you back.” Apart from embarrassing Robyn with my dad dancing at her 18th birthday party, I hope she’s proud of the rest. I’ve got 9 years to make sure that’s the case…but I won’t kid myself into thinking that 9 years won’t whizz by. Time to start blooming.

The Family

The Sound of Silence

My unremarkable music “career” – 1995 – 2019

After 24 years of singing, writing songs and “playing guitar” (10 years of those years in a band), it seems as though that part of my life is coming to a bittersweet end. As I’ve taken this week off of triathlon training and running, this blog post is a short reflective piece on my almost quarter of a century as a wannabe musician. It’s just a quick overview, but feels right/important to share something about it all before I forget!


Memory is fallible ladies and gents, but I wouldn’t make this (often embarrassing) s*** up!

Born in 1980 and raised Roman Catholic, I’m subjected to a lot of hymns – which I remember thinking from a very early age, “the music’s alright, but why are they trying to fit so many words in – it’s so awkward. I can do better than this. I’ll have a word with the priest.”

That lyrically challenged music is balanced out with some great 1980s parties, surrounded by drunken adults who love a good sing-song, even before karaoke was a thing. At a couple of those parties, spoons, a harmonica and an accordion make an appearance, and there’s singing, dancing, and plenty of Irish madness.

Dad’s a big Rod Stewart and Billy Ocean fan, mum seems more ABBA, disco and motown.

Sadly, those parties and the revelers who attended them, dwindle, and are now mostly a distant memory.


First 7 inch records – 1986 – “Somewhere out there” from An American Tale (my party piece at age 6 was singing this to my family over the record…cringe)

1988 – “Opposites Attract” – Paula Abdul (don’t ask – there was a dance routine and everything)

First cassette albums – 1988 – “Jive Bunny and the Master Mixers” and “Martika” (my first album with lyrics on the inlay cover – this is a revelation. How can I have got the words soooo wrong?)

First LP album – 1989 – “10 Good Reasons” Jason Donovan

First CDs – 1994 – “Big Ones” Aerosmith and “Crossroads” Bon Jovi (“1994?!?” I hear you scream…yes, I clung to cassettes for as long as I could – I loved my Walkman). These are both compilation albums, so no words in the inlay cover – and I am yet to discover the disdain REAL musicians have for those without the original albums. Whatever…!

And then it’s 1995 and I’m a 15 year old Year 10 student, sat in a circle with my classmates in the drama studio. A long-haired boy sits hunched over his guitar, lit by the coloured spotlights above. In my memory, these lights have a blueish tint and there’s dry ice all around the young musician. We are all spellbound by the voice, the emotion, the sounds of the single electric guitar filling the room like an orchestra. I’m glad that there’s no video footage of this occasion, because in my mind, it is one of those iconic, life-changing memories that I refuse to have altered.

Chris circa 1994. What I’ll aspire to be…one day….

The boy, later became the man, Christopher Macaree of the band Decaydes – do check them out.

Decaydes – go see them live!!!

The moments that follow that performance include the decision: I must learn how to do that! The days that follow include a guitar lesson from Chris, and my first page of box chords, to the first guitar song I learn to play – Oasis’s, Wonderwall. Before you groan – think back to if you have ever given a busker some change after passing them playing this song. I know several of you must have, because I later became that busker, and that very song pretty much paid my rent on more than one occasion.

By the following summer I have bought my first three quarter size acoustic guitar from Argos, with money from car washing and a paper round, and I get to work on building some finger callouses! Not difficult with the action on those strings – they’re a full finger height off of the fret board! (I wish I had started with a classical guitar, as the nylon strings would have made practicing less painful).

In 1996 my mum takes me to a music shop in Ilford, Essex. As a Christmas present, I pick out a red Fender Squier Strat and a small practice amp, with dreams of becoming the next Richie Sambora or Slash. The action is far better, and I love the sound of it…but I still can’t play for toffee.

I continue to suck at guitar, refuse to use a plectrum, but that doesn’t stop me from picking it up sporadically, when I should be studying for my GCSE exams, and trying to learn The Beatles songs from a library book.

My party piece has now gone from 6 year old, singing a ballad on a stool, to 16 year old strumming his three chords while everyone sings along (for the first two verses anyway…I never managed to learn the bridge…but everyone’s singing by then, so it doesn’t matter, I tell myself).

My first attempt at forming a band comes in about 1999, when Bryan Adams becomes some sort of descendant of Nostradamus, as one of his songs basically predicts our experience:

Was the summer of ’99, me and some guys from college, had a band and we didn’t try all that hard, Pickford quit, Walker got plastered, should’ve know we’d never get far.

Anyway, when I look back now…OK, I’ll stop – something good definitely came out of it though i.e. I was introduced to a far greater repertoire of music (and bagged myself a hottie). Had it not been for our mini-jam sessions, I would still be listening to Bon Jovi and The Beatles ad nauseum.

Laura and me circa 1998.

In 2006 I am leaving Spain where I have been living for the past four years, when the universe sends two more signs that I should give this music thing another go.

The first is that while walking along a street in Marbella, a gypsy tries to sell me an acoustic guitar which was stolen from my apartment the previous year. Yes, a gyspy tried to sell me back my own guitar. How I’ve not written a song about that, I don’t know. I wave down a passing police car, have an argument with the fence, and get my guitar back.

The second is that some travelling professional Italian musicians (The J.C Band – J.C Cinel and Jacopo Deflini) take up residence in Marbella, and I get the opportunity to sing, play guitar and have a few wild nights with them. After drunken conversations with them I decide to get to a level that I can perform in public – but I need to learn the chords (all of them, bridge included) and the lyrics.

My next move is to return to England and audition to be a London Underground busker (with my stolen guitar). It is one of the best jobs I ever have, while Carling are sponsoring the scheme, but I lose interest after that, as booking pitches becomes a bit of a nightmare.

I start to use a plectrum or “pick” as I need to make the acoustic guitar loud enough to be heard above the trains and commuters. I resort to using a coin on a number of occasions as using my fingers results in blood and skin everywhere…gross but true.

I’m what’s known as a “strum and dumber” – no real talent or musical knowledge, but I’m learning chords and keeping rhythm well enough to sing along to.

I realise that certain songs suit my voice more, and earn me more money, and try writing a few to fit those criteria. I start listening to a lot more male singer-songwriters and especially love those with soulful voices like James Morrison, Paulo Nutini and Ray LaMontagne.

Deano, the London Underground Busker. It was brilliant until Carling stopped sponsoring it.
Playing in 2008 at our engagement party, on a guitar signed by the Gypsy Kings, which I brought back from Spain for my cousin.

I enter the UK Songwriting contest for several years in a row, but never manage to write a winning entry. I know that they are good songs, but just not what they are looking for. It’s frustrating, but I’m not writing songs to win competitions – it would have just been a bonus.

UK Songwriting Contest Certificates…got as far a being a finalist, but no cigar!

In 2008 after getting married in Italy (with Jacopo, one of the Italian musicians, as a guest), Laura and I embark on a trip around the world. I get the opportunity to play and sing in a variety of countries, actually paying for our food and drink by playing each night at a bar in Laos. Then when we reach Australia I once again get a busker’s licence and try my hand as a street musician.


We meet up with friends (Scott and Lisa) in Sydney, just before New Year’s Eve 2008 and this is the start of Scott-Free (Scott, for…well Scott, and Free, because of my “Free Spirit” tattoo). Scott sings the main vocal, I play guitar and harmonise, and we split our earnings 50/50 as we busk up the East coast of Australia. We play a gig or two in bars as well – and attend our fair share as audience members too.

Warming up before my two-hour morning busking slot at Flinders Street, Melbourne.


When Laura and I return from New York in August 2009, Scott and I are keen to get a band started, and shortly thereafter, Mosaic is born. Our first rehearsal is at The Farm, in North Ockendon/Upminster.

It comes at the perfect time, as everything else in life is telling me to grow up and get serious. My first child, first mortgage and first real career all come in the space of months, so the band stops me from going completely insane and feeling like a complete failure (remember by this point I have been out of uni for 7 years, and while most of my friends are living successful lives, I have done nothing of note).

I start to learn lead guitar as well as rhythm, and I take a back seat vocally.

Scott, Gary and myself chip in towards a PA, monitor, speakers and stands so we can start doing gigs…at the time it seems like a risky investment, but it proves to be worthwhile, and pays itself off in no time.

Scott (vocals), Gary (bass), James (drums) and Deano (me, guitar) were Mosaic, Car Boot Tetris, Coversion…and a few others…but always the same four original members (bar one hilarious* attempt to replace James after a temporary departure).

*Hilarious for Scott and me, but probably not for Gary. It turned out that James’s potential replacement, had once had a fight with Gary at school and there was definitely some tension in the air still. There were other reasons he wouldn’t have been a great replacement, but thankfully James came back to us anyway so enough said!

Our first gig as Mosaic in Hornchurch.
My favourite incarnation of the the band, Car Boot Tetris. Great design by Gary.
Live and Unsigned…or Pay to Play, as I’ve come to think of it!
Live and Unsigned – one of their affiliates offered me a song publishing deal, which I declined after a bit of googling!
Some great bands have played here, so it was an honour to play here – even with the dripping ceiling!
Same pose, years later. Room 4 was another potential band name!

Scott and the band organise for a whip round for my 30th birthday, so I can stop borrowing guitars from other people and get my own Fender Stratocaster. A wonderful gesture, and an awesome present…the guitar I’ve always wanted from PMT in Romford (which is sadly no longer there).

Just before our debut festival slot at T-Fest, I manage to drop my laptop bag, catching it by my little finger before it hit the floor – relief – but also breaking my pinkie oh no! I will play, in pain, removing my little plastic support only for rehearsals and the gig itself.

Car Boot Tetris playing “It Just So Happens” to hundreds of people at T-Fest!

In our ten years together, we make so many BAND memories on top of all the other major life events that occur: Garden parties…weddings…pubs…new year’s eve parties…birthday parties…playing in a boxing ring…a garage…a farm barn pyjama party…a trip to AMSTERDAM, camping with the band (Amy Winehouse’s death on the cover of NME the morning we left the UK, echoing American Pie, “the day the music died”).

We write some great songs, and play both original and cover gigs – fitting it all in around our busy lives. Turning down or cancelling gigs that don’t suit us for whatever reason – no pressure, no stress.

I only remember one heated discussion during one interval, and which is followed by a handshake straight after the second set. We are a tight band.

Our final gig ends two songs too early as my A string (I’m tuned down a full tone, so technically my G string…LOL) snaps!!! We shake hands, and I run off to get some sleep before my second triathlon 70 miles away!

Apart from the memories, I’ve also got a bit of tinnitus – seriously – and I lip read a lot. But it was totally worth it. It could have been far worse…but we were never THAT sort of band!

Our second from last gig…February 2019, The Fatlin, Hornchruch.
Ralph’s first electric guitar.
Our piano, £10 off of Ebay! My dad and a family friend helped get this back from Kent. Robyn now has lessons.

So now it’s time to pass the torch. Robyn and Ralph will grow up with music, like Laura and I did. They won’t be pushed into anything, but I’ll happily be their roadie if they decide to drop out of school and give music a proper shot, like I never actually did.

I have no real regrets, as let’s face it, if I’d been talented enough I wouldn’t have made it past age 27 anyway! Now I’m too old to die young, sober enough (most of the time) to have some great memories of it all, and lucky enough to have parted ways with everyone while still on good terms.

Fingers crossed there’ll be some sort of reunion at some point, but for now the Strat will sit in its case under the stairs. They’ve got my number!

I’m off to “get a real job” and enjoy my “sporting midlife crisis”.

Windsor – Rickshaw Redemption

Onward and upwards

With my first triathlon (Thorpe Park sprint) under my belt, I wake up on Monday morning exhausted – but elated – even with that horrible bike leg!

I keep telling myself, “you’ve done one now…what’s next?”

By Tuesday morning I’m back in the gym for an hour on the stationary bike (20.92 miles…once again…Sunday? WFT?!? 1 hr 8 mins to ride 13 miles!?!)

That same day I put my bike in the car and bring it to work for a colleague to have a look at. Before I put it in the boot, I give the front wheel a spin – and of course, it’s like a perpetual motion machine, defying the laws of physics! Will it ever stop? No rubbing, no noise. Like a trip to the GP where the ailment has vanished by the time the doctor sees you, I’m starting to doubt whether this is a reasonable explanation for my poor cycling performance at Thorpe Park.

Then I get the bike out of the car at work, and as I wheel it into my office…. fssss…fssss…fssss…the brakes are rubbing again. It’s hard to believe that such a small amount of friction had such a negative impact on my ride – but it was definitely a factor.

After speaking to Danny (tri-to-be-iron), I’m informed that completing my 750 m swim using primarily breaststroke probably didn’t do my legs any favours either! So maybe it was a combination of the two things?

When my colleague sees the bike, he systematically scans it and says, “well, THAT can go…and THOSE!” pointing at my seat cushion, frame bag and lights. I’m told I can also get rid of my bell and puncture repair kit as well, as I’ll just be putting on a new inner tube which I can store in the pockets of my tri suit.

To prevent any drama with taking off my front wheel and knocking everything out of alignment again, I order a bike rack for the car. I don’t feel guilty about this additional expense as I can put both of the kids’ bikes on it when we go camping later this year – two birds, one stone (or one score in this case – God bless Ebay)!

Cheap bike rack to save me having to remove the front wheel again!

I take it easy this week training-wise as work is crazy and family commitments prevent me from getting to Hadleigh for an open water swim. I do prove my resolve to work on this discipline however by ordering the Great Swim Local wrist band – although without a triathlon to train for, let’s see what happens!

The end of the week is double-busy, with work, then band rehearsals on Friday evening. Packing on Saturday morning, driving 70 miles to Windsor to rack up the bike, meet some family and drop Laura and the kids off at the hotel in Slough. Then driving back to Hornchurch for the band’s “last” gig (more on this next week), and then once the final song was played, driving another 70 miles back to Windsor to get 4 hours sleep before the race. Yes, that could have been planned a bit better…but the universe was conspiring against me on this occasion (perhaps)?!

That said, parked next to us was a friendly gent who began speaking to me the moment he got out of the car. After chatting for a while, about this being his first triathlon and my second, and how he had already signed up for an Ironman in Wales (really hard due to the hilly bike ride), he reveals that he’s from Hornchurch in Essex! We’ve both travelled 70 miles to an event where we’re parked next to someone from down the road! (Lee, I hope Windsor went well for you!). A man after my own heart, he has set himself that long-term goal that will keep him training and achieving smaller goals along the way – knowing that right now, there’s no way he could complete an Ironman. Very inspiring – so maybe the universe knew what it was doing after all?!

So I did this journey 3 times in one day…I asked Laura to drive home after the triathlon!


So despite going to bed around 1 am and setting my alarm for 5:45 am, I find myself wide awake at 5 am. I really could use the extra 45 minutes sleep, but I’m not risking going back to sleep and waking up groggy. Or worse – waking up LATE!!! I manage a banana and some coffee, but not the granola I brought with me for my pre-race meal. I’m still full from the last minute tuna and pasta I uncharacteristically ate 5 minutes before bed last night (which was 4 hours ago, and which didn’t keep me up because I was so cream crackered).

I had the common sense to pack my bags and lay out my suits the night before, so when the taxi arrives, I’m good to go – fairly confident that I’ve got everything. Laura and Robyn wish me well on my way out – Ralph is still in the fetal position, catching the ZZZZZs I’m craving.

I arrive at 6:30 am on the dot, and with my bike already racked up it all seems stress-free. I say my hellos to the two competitors I know, Danny and a work colleague (same one who fixed my bike). I lay out my towel, my flip flops, cycle shoes and trainers, my swimming hat, earplugs and goggles. I’ve arrived with my tri-suit on, so the wetsuit goes on next – still without lubricant. I need to get this for the next race – it goes on easily enough, but getting it off in transition 1 would be easier I imagine, with a bit of grease.

I notice several competitors with the exact same tri-suit and wet suit (Decathlon….you’re up there with Ebay)! There are also some pretty chunky bikes, which I start to think my basic road bike will fare better than during the race…but those thoughts are quickly hushed by the memories of last week’s cycling performance. The athletes themselves are all shapes and sizes, and just like the bikes, and I’ve already seen that this is no indicator of how they’ll perform. I mean, I look quite fit (more “Canvey Island” than “Love Island” than I’d like maybe), and yet…!

My wave isn’t until 7:45 am, but I’m zipped up in my wet suit and ready to go by 7 am. I decide to have a walk over to the coach station’s toilet block outside the transition area, and luckily everything has been timed just right. My body’s a little too keen if anything, thanks to the morning coffee…which increases the urgency for me to remove my wet suit and tri-suit. I make it. Just.


The swim start is a fair walk away from the transition point, and as I make my way over with Danny, I notice his white hotel slippers! I’m trying to figure out the athletic advantage to such footwear but it’s later revealed that his choice comes down to them being disposable. I don’t know it yet, but this is the last time I’ll see my flip flops – they had a good innings. (Note to whoever picked these up: Please do not wear these. I am wracked with guilt about what your feet may be about to go through if you do so. My most athletic body part, my feet, have been fermenting in these flip flops for years. Dispose of carefully.)

I don’t believe that it’s so cold and yet my teeth are chattering and I notice the uncontrollable shaking of limbs. Danny reckons it’s nerves…I’m sceptical, as I feel quite positive about what’s to come, excited even. But I guess physiologically speaking, anxiety and excitement are similar, it’s just the mental reframe that’s saving me from throwing up or pulling out!

After a quick briefing, which I try to look focused throughout, but I’m too excited now, I just want to get started. I don’t hear most of the instructions, or if I do my brain isn’t retaining them as they pass through one ear and out of the other. I ease myself off of the pontoon into the Thames and my first thoughts are, “F*** it’s cold…I need a thicker wetsuit…” followed by, “acclimatise…blow bubbles…” and lastly, “where am I? Holy s*** I’m at the front of the pack, I’m gonna get pummelled!!! “

At which point I hear, “15 SECONDS!!!”, have the presence of mind to start my watch, and we’re off!

I take a few shots to my sides and my legs, but it’s nothing malicious. I keep touching someone’s foot and think about Mark Allen doing this to Dave Scott to wind him up. My tickling this person in front may or may not have wound them up – I’ll never know, as they sped up and left me in their wake quite quickly.

I manage to do a lot more frontcrawl this time and the water stays out of my nose, but I swallow a fair amount of the Thames as my breaths seem to come when sudden waves hit my open mouth.

There’s a smell of hotdogs and onions and ketchup as I am swimming and during my first breast stroke break I jokingly ask the kayak volunteer if he can get me one. He’s not impressed, or he didn’t hear me. Either way, no hot dog – and i suddenly feel ready for that granola I missed out on this morning.

I manage some more front crawl, but at one point, having closed my eyes, I punch a kayak which has cut straight across me in its mission to help a struggling swimmer. Later on another kayaker is looking at me like I’m in trouble, which worries as I feel fine. I give him the thumbs up and prove I’m fine by getting back on with some more front crawl.

I don’t stop swimming. Front crawl and breast stroke the whole time, and even so I suddenly see the next wave of coloured hats over-taking me. “I’m going to get pummelled for sure this time,” but again, apart from a few taps, no one’s dunking me and it even gives me a bit of a push to swim a bit harder. Not as much as seeing the exit does though!

I crawl out, the most ungraceful sea lion you’ll ever see, and run for the transition. I struggle a bit with my wetsuit but get there eventually and notice that Danny is already there in transition (meaning he overtook me on the swim despite starting later).

It’s a long run out of transition, especially in cycling shoes, but 400m and 7 minutes later I’m off on the bike ride and compared to last week, I’m loving it. I feel like greased lightning!


Suddenly I need to concern myself with overtaking and drafting! A clear sign that things are going well.

The rain starts soon after the start of the ride and I try not to think about how thin my tyres are or how I’d rather be on a mountain bike in this weather.

The one piece of advice I had gone against, was keeping my cycle frame bag on. I’ve got my spare inner tubes, CO2 and cliff blocks inside and until I get myself a seat bag, this will work fine.

I find riding a bit monotonous, unlike running, and I hate the feeling of my thighs burning, as the lactic acid builds up – this lasts for hours after a ride for me.

Danny had told me that the course was flat, so rather than suggest he is mistaken, I keep telling myself, “bloody hell, he doesn’t even consider these hills…I must be crap on the bike.” It turns out the course has changed since last year!

I get into a rhythm though, wolfing down Cliff blocks and water so that I don’t have to think about fuelling on the run.

Towards the end, a steward annoyingly turns his back on the riders giving me no indication of which way to turn off at the roundabout. So I go left, and have to turn back suddenly as a more awake steward catches me going the wrong way.

At the end of the ride I unclip my shoes and jump off the bike while it’s still going too fast. I skate the first 5 m of the transition, earning a small round of applause for staying on my feet and not dropping the bike.


As I put on my trainers I make a mental note to purchase some speedy laces – and to find out what “speedy laces” are actually called!

I throw my glasses down by a tree on the way out (some kind person puts these on a bike rack for me to find at the end).

The incline on the run is agony for me…I hate hills…like cycling with any sort of power, they make my thighs burn!!!

There is a lovely stretch on the run, through the grounds as you go away from the castle and then back again. I look forward to seeing the professional photos for this part.

I run straight past my family near the end of my first lap, so go back on myself, almost crashing into two other runners (sorry lads) to give high fives to Robyn and Ralph. I don’t want to disappoint them after waiting so long for me!

Stupidly, I start heading towards the finish line after just one lap and have to turn around – once again, against the current of runners – and get the other two laps done!!!

Three laps is almost too much – especially when you know what’s coming. I’m not a fan of laps. I want novelty. Anyway, I keep going…never stopping (except right at the start to redo my shoelace)…never walking.

I manage to cheer on other runners I know, although my face is numb from the bike ride, and when I go to cheer on the first person I recognise, I can’t say their name properly and I’m sure my face looks like Rocky Balboa’s. I raise both arms, smile and raise my eyebrows – just to check I haven’t had some kind of stroke.

During the last lap I really focus on my own race. I have my secret mantra while running, which helps me keep the rhythm of my breathing and cadence going.

As I approach the finish line, I have nothing left for a sprint finish which is just as well as I spot Laura and the kids. She is holding Ralph up and lifting him over the gate, so he can cross the finish line with me. So holding his hand, he whizzes ahead and beats me across the line before I hold him up for a cuddle. A very special moment for the Saunders boys!

I ask the steward to put my medal on him, and she not only does so, she also kindly gives me a second medal – which is fantastic as both Robyn and Ralph get one now!

Ralph, Danny and me.


I aimed for Sub 3 and achieved that goal…but I’ve been put off of the half Ironman for now!

I’m really happy with my time, but my form is sloppy as hell and the run up to race day was less than perfect. I’m sure I can do better and I’ve got no intention to quit now. I probably won’t race again until next season…probably…instead I have a lot of learning to be getting on with, and not just with triathlon.

Great presents and cards this year…but best of all was them being at the triathlon to cheer me on.

Massive THANK YOU to the family once again! It really was a Father’s Day to remember, and I’ve definitely redeemed myself on the bike!!!

Thank you also to Danny for inviting me to write a guest blog for tri to be iron.

Thorpe Park – My Triathlon Debut

The Day before…

It’s Saturday 8th June and I’ve just realised that in order to get my road bike into the Zafira, as well as the two kids, the front wheel is going to have to come off. No biggie – I can see the quick release lever, and with a quick tug to release the wheel from the front brake, it comes off no problem and my trusty steed in thrown into the back of the car.

My bags (plural) are packed with (almost) everything the checklist I downloaded says I should have, and I’m satisfied that the equipment will see me through my first triathlon.

To save Laura and the kids an even earlier wake up time than is necessary, I booked a hotel close to the event the same day I bought the race ticket. Of course when we arrive, despite being an hour after check in, the room is not ready so we are asked to wait. Then the key doesn’t work and finally we find out we have to pay to use their car park?!?! But what do you want for £56, I suppose…

Once we’re finally into the room, I lay out all of my gear. This obviously takes a bit longer than before a marathon, and helps keep the nerves at bay. It’s a calming ritual. My subconscious is getting the message, “All the gear is here, you’ve just got to go and do what you’ve done in training…but MUCH faster!”

Superhero time!

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that while sons and daughters don their various superhero outfits and disguises, there’s still a desire in at least some of their parents to do the same. Dress up and perform some amazing feat of speed, strength or in my case, stamina. That void doesn’t come close to being filled by heaving on a suit and tie, and ticking boxes “for the man” man. I actually enjoy my work, but it doesn’t scratch THIS itch!

As I set my stuff out, somewhere in the back of my mind there’s a Hans Zimmer-esque tune playing. Yes, I’ve not even completed a triathlon yet, but this gear secretly (not so secret now I’m writing about it) is the equivalent of my bat suit, utility belt, etc.

“It’s superhero time. Mission starts soon. Training is done. All of your gear is here…” WAIT, of course, all of my gear is NOT here. My bike is still sitting in the car, dismembered, so I go to retrieve it just to make sure I can put the wheel back on with the minimum of hassle.

The wheel goes on without a single expletive from me, and after wedging the bike into the hotel lift, it is soon located, whole, in the hotel room – next to the bat suit, etc.

Race day

As the hotel is located just a mile away from the event I decide to cycle there. I think, this will wake my legs up whilst giving the family an extra hour or so in bed before coming to cheer me on.

As I’m wheeling the bike out I notice a repetitive noise coming from, where else, the front wheel. The brakes appear to be rubbing a bit on the wheel but I can’t see where. I lift the bike and try to spin the wheel, but it quickly comes to a stop. A little bit of maneuvering the break pads seems to fix the problem, so then I begin my ride in.

The next thing I notice are the tyres are a bit spongy. I have a hand pump, and I’m sure someone will have a proper pump at the event, so again I’m not concerned about this.

Registration is so straight forward, and the only tips I pick up are 1) the second number bib is a spare if you have a race belt 2) the timing chip goes on your left ankle to stay away from the gear mechanism, etc.

Even racking up my bike and setting my gear out is a doddle – there is no chance of losing my bike or getting lost in the transitions. I borrow a pump for my tyres at the last minute, get on my wet suit and I’m good to go.


The water is said to be 18 degrees, and as soon as I’m in the water for a little acclimatisation, I know I’m fine. I’ve spat in my goggles and this seems to be working i.e. no steam. The buoys are HUGE so sighting is no problem. I don’t know if the earplugs are working or not, but I’m not feeling sick or panicky, so let’s just say they are.

There is no way I would feel this calm, had it not been for a second session with Mark from Tri ‘N’ Swim Well at Hadleigh Country Park earlier this week. This made up for my first open water swimming experience…but I still have a lot to learn here. If I come in to some money, I will invest in some lessons…for now, I will see how far I can get with YouTube.

The horn goes off and initially my front crawl seems to be going well. The mosh pit I had feared is not happening, I have space, but every time my face goes under, my nostrils are filling up with water – even when I’m exhaling from them?!? Mental note: buy a nose peg.

I end up doing a mixture of “head above water front crawl” and breast stroke.

At the exit, further down the bank, I tread in sludge which gives way and brings me to my knees on a sharp rock. I stumble out, a bit dizzy, but recover enough to start running towards the transition area with a smile on my face.

17 mins 41 secs for 750 m. I think that’s respectable?

Feet like flippers…I’ve evolved for this…and yet I’m still quite slow atm!


I can feel that something is not right. I tell myself it must be the swim, maybe the water I’ve swallowed…and no AJ – seriously, I’m not 100% getting on the bike. It just feels like bloody hard work.

I tell myself that it will wear off. Same as a bike to run transition. I have never done a swim to bike brick session before – that must be what it is.

But a mile in, when I expect to have got my bearings, my rhythm, to have outrun my excuses…I still feel like I’m cycling through treacle. It has to be the bike. I look down. No punctures.

If I’d known what was to come, I might have quit at this point!

At no point do I consider getting off the bike to mess about with the wheels or brakes, which looking back, would have been the right move. Even doing away with the front brake and relying on just the back one would have been better than doing what I did. Carry on.

I’m really concerned, it being my first triathlon, about drafting and overtaking. I don’t want to break these rules (or at least get penalised for doing so), but as it turns out I never have the opportunity to overtake anyone, and no one is ever in front of me long enough for me to be accused of drafting!

This is the worst part of the race for me, and I have to shake off some pretty negative self-talk as cyclist after cyclist whizzes past me. Laura tells me after the race that she actually thought something had happened to me it takes me so long!

1 hr 8 mins for 21 km…it pains me to type that. Even as a newbie.


Of course there is no question that this is going to be the strongest part of my race. I have just spent the last 1 hour 8 mins being overtaken by everyone and their nan, so I enjoy catching up and overtaking these cyclists on the run.

I am a bit concerned at one point about my breathing, as my lung capacity seems to have reduced. I feel quite a bit of pressure in my chest, which I put down to swallowing some water in the lake – the bike doesn’t really tax my breathing, just my legs – so that’s why it’s taken me so long to be affected by it.

After the race I google “dry drowning” and worry myself silly for a bit. If I can’t sleep later, and it doesn’t feel any better, I’m off to the hospital…but I have felt worse. I’m sure it’s fine.

I really enjoy running through Thorpe Park…it makes me wonder about Disneyland races, or other theme parks. One to add to the “someday, maybe” list.

After completing the run I meet up with some friends who were also racing, and go over some of the issues we’ve had during the race. At no point do they warn me that I still have my earplugs in from the swim! I find this out as I’m packing up my stuff in the transition area!

At least I wasn’t running with my helmet on I guess…that WOULD have been embarrassing!

20 mins 17 secs for 5 km.

Strong finish on the 5 km run.
I knew the bike wasn’t going well, and even at MAF pace in training I have done better, so I’m not worried. I’ll put this right next week.

So I have been bitten by a bug. A bug with 3 legs – or 5 if you include transitions!

next actions

I need to buy a nose peg. I need to get my bike set up properly, and I need a bike rack so I don’t have to keep taking my wheel off! I suppose I also need to learn how to remove and replace the wheels, front and back, if I ever get a puncture!

I have less than a week until Windsor and the distances are doubled for each discipline, so I’ll need to pace myself better and fuel on the ride. My goals for next week, other than completing the race, are:

  1. Use mostly front crawl, not breast stroke for the swim
  2. Have a much better bike ride – 40km in 1 hour 30 mins
  3. Complete the race in around 3 hours (this would be a massive bonus after today’s performance, but achieving the first two will get me closer to this)

A couple of other things to note:

  • I messed up with my watch, so I really need to practice with that this week
  • I didn’t fuel at all or hydrate until the run – I will need to get some gels/cubes in me during the ride at Windsor

A final note, I am extremely grateful to Laura, Robyn and Ralph for coming to support me today. They took great pics and made me feel like a rock star at each transition. What a lucky guy I am to have you three in my corner!

Still had some energy for Thorpe Park with the family afterwards

Triathlon Training – Part 2

With less than a week until my first triathlon, I have been reflecting on my training – which to be honest, I have not taken as seriously as I have my marathon training in the past. That is to say, I have taken a much more relaxed and spontaneous approach than when training for a marathon – not following a strict schedule or plan as I usually would.

I think this is in part due to being sensible, knowing that I want to avoid injury or burnout at all costs – my priority is health, not fitness/performance – but I also have a lot of people around me who “care”. By care, I mean they like to remind me that at almost 39 years old – no spring chicken – what I’m doing could be considered extreme and potentially harmful. I do take on board what they are saying, but with a pinch of salt, as their advice usually comes between puffs of tobacco or bites of cake.

My diet has also not been great. Basically, I started carb-loading the week before the London Marathon, and continued to eat anything and everything I wanted for several weeks after the event. I generally keep meat, caffeine and alcohol to a minimum – although not while camping!

View this post on Instagram

Training break 😎

A post shared by Dean "Deano" Saunders (@norocketscientist1980) on

Pasta, rice, potatoes, bread and sweets (mostly ice-cream, popcorn, biscuits and chocolate) are the reason I will not be at my ideal racing weight for my debut. As I’ve said, health is my number one priority and I’m nowhere near worrying about my weight generally…but I’m just acknowledging those extra unnecessary kilos add extra minutes.

Anyway, knowing that I could run 5 or 10 km easily enough, even after a 40 km bike ride, I chose to focus on the other two disciplines: swimming and cycling.

All of my training has been done, wherever possible, at my MAF (maximum aerobic function) heart rate – no speed work at all. I will write a post on this at a later date, but the basics are:

  1. Take 180 and subtract your age e.g. 180 – 38 = 142 bpm (beats per minute)
  2. Add 5 if you’re fit and making improvements, so for me 147 bpm

I wear a heart rate monitor (wrist or chest strap preferably) and whenever I’m doing cardio activities I aim to hover at this heart rate, slowing down if I go above 147 bpm.

Open Water Swimming

My experience here, apart from the odd dip on holiday, is severely limited. You can read about my first Open Water Swimming session here. As disappointing as my performance in that first session was, I booked a second session for 6pm on Wednesday 5th June – forgetting that I had band practice that evening at 7pm! I apologised to the band and told them I will do my best to get there as close to 7pm as I can. I need another open water swim before the race or there’s a danger I will panic and ruin my debut!

The next week and a half is super busy, with my first two triathlons (9th and 16th June) and my last gig with the band (15th June).


Below are my dates, distances and times:

06/05/19 – My first time in the pool for any serious swimming, since 2013 when I trained for and completed a 5 km swim for the Marie Curie charity (this would not have been a pretty site – I used whatever stroke I could just to get through it, and wouldn’t have completed it had I not dabbled in the total immersion swimming technique after seeing Tim Ferriss do a Ted Talk on it).

12/05/19 – 1500m – 45 mins – 3 x 500m, with a breather after each 500m.

18/05/19 – 1500m – 35 mins – 2 x 750m with a short breather half way.

28/05/19 – 1500m – 34 mins – no stopping.

01/06/19 – 1500m – 37 mins – This was my first swim in the 50 m pool, and my watch didn’t seem to be working correctly at first. It settled down though, eventually, and I got into a decent rhythm. My main reason for stopping so often was my goggles kept steaming up – this is something I need to google a solution for!

From what I’ve read, 40 mins is a standard time for the Olympic swim – so in the pool this is no problem, but in open water it might be a different story.


I got rid of my mountain bike and bought a second hand road bike for £90. I don’t like the thin wheels, the gears took some getting used to and every time I go out I’m sure that I’ll get a puncture. It hasn’t happened yet though – touch wood.

I was actually quite nervous about being on the road on a bike. There are just far too many bad drivers out there, and the pot holes in the roads don’t make life easy. But it has been quite warm, bright and dry and it is actually quite an enjoyable activity – minus the achy undercarriage after 30 minutes. My shoulders and back also get a bit tense, so this is probably due to a combination of the bike not being set up properly for me, and poor posture.

From what I’ve read, for the Olympic distance I should be able to cover the 40 km in 1 hr 20 mins, but my best times in training have been around the 1 hr 30 mins mark.

Below are my dates, distances and times:

06/05/19 – 33 miles – 2 hrs 39 mins

11/05/19 – 21.76 miles – 1 hr 32 mins (cycled in to work, but had left the car there the previous day, so drove home)

13/05/19 – 13.4 miles – 40 mins

18/05/19 – 16.5 miles – 1 hr 04 mins

19/05/19 – 12.5 miles – 52 mins

22/05/19 – 44 miles (22 miles to and from work, taking 1 hr 30 mins and 1 hr 33 mins. So doing my bit for the planet as well!)

26/05/19 – 30 miles – 1 hr 55 mins

02/06/19 – 24 miles – 1 hr 29 mins – my first ride with Decathlon’s cheapest cycling shoes and clips! The outside of my right knee is aching a bit more than usual so I may need to adjust these.


I can’t believe how much I sweat on a stationary bike! I just try and stay to 90 rpm at level 15, and these are the distances it says I’ve covered. I got a turbo over the winter, but couldn’t get it to pick up my sensors (zero data = zero motivation) so what you see is the only cycling I have done.

Below are my dates, distances and times:

02/05/19 – 9.73 miles – 30 mins

08/05/19 – 9.73 miles – 30 mins

16/05/19 – 5 miles – 15 mins

21/05/19 – 13.58 miles – 40 mins


I have spent so little time running since London, as I’m continuing to have some issues with a tendon in my right leg. Focusing on swimming and cycling has enabled me to rest my leg a bit, but really I need a good lay off for a while. Just stretching and very low mileage.

The Olympic distance 10 km run is supposed to take an average first timer about 60 minutes, which is well within my reach normally. It may be that the 10 minutes I lose on the bike I make up for on the run, meaning that a sub 3 hour finish is still feasible.

Below are my dates, distances and times:

16/05/19 – 4.0 miles – 31:47 mins *brick session

19/05/19 – 3.1 miles – 25:20 mins

22/05/19 – 1.2 miles – 13:29 mins

29/05/19 – 6.2 miles – 58:13 mins

02/06/19 – 3.6 miles – 37:48 mins *brick session


All treadmill running is done with a 1% incline.

Below are my dates, distances and times:

08/05/19 – 3.62 miles – 30:02 mins *brick session

13/05/19 – 3.85 miles – 30:01 mins

21/05/19 – 3.03 miles – 25:49 mins *brick session


I don’t do these regularly yet…but these are the exercises I want to start including 2 or 3 times a week (and the reps I want to hit). This has come straight from the Primal Blueprint book. Will keep you posted on my progress with these.

Push ups (50)

Pull ups (12)

Squats (50)

Planks (2 minutes)


So as you can see, I haven’t completely slacked off. I’ve done a far share of miles in each discipline, at no great speed, but just to ensure that I can complete my first two triathlons.

I am really excited about Sunday, and not just about the brand new experience of triathlon. Included in the price of entry to the race, are 4 free tickets for the theme park! My kids don’t know yet, so it will be a great surprise for them. Let’s hope I’m in a reasonable state to enjoy the day after the race!

Camping in Maldon with my family over the bank holiday weekend.

Triathlon Training – Part 1

Open Water Swimming – with Tri ‘n’ Swim Well

It’s 04:30 am on a Saturday and of course, despite not having work today and remembering to turn my alarm off last night, I wake up “naturally” at this unnatural hour. It has taken years to get into this habit and for the most part I’m grateful. Not this morning though, as my first open water swim is not until 07:30 am, giving me 3 hours to think (read, worry) about it. It’s all been pool swims until now – all 3 times I’ve been!

It fit me when I bought it before the London Marathon (4 kg ago).

I have got on superhero outfit #1, aka my tri-suit (as in, “try not to laugh”, or “try and hold your belly in”). Like Superman, I put on some less comical clothes over the top for the drive (just in case I’m pulled over for speeding or suchlike, and need to get out of the car). I assume there will be a changing room, or a phone box, at the reservoir to transform again.

I drive to Hadleigh Park and arrive nice and early, 06:30, avoiding a major pet peeve of mine, “tardiness”, which would stress me out completely and make taking on board any instruction a lot less likely. I take the opportunity to wander around with my selfie stick and record something for the vlog, and I reminisce about the Parkour classes I attended here last year with my son Ralph.

Parkour with Ralph, summer 2018

Instructor #1, Gill (which is pronounced “Jill” of course, not as I wrongly said it, “gill”, like a fish – even if she can swim like one) is the first to arrive. We chat for a bit and after letting her know I’ve swum in lakes before, the essence of what I say is, “How hard can it be?” to which she replies, “Have you ever swum in a wet suit?” I say “no”, then self-correct as I remember that ten years ago I had done some very short bursts in a wet suit in Australia – back when I still had, “I so want to be a rock star” hair. So great, no big deal – I think.

Australia, 2009, newly-weds

Instructor #2, Mark arrives shortly after, takes pity on me and shows me how to put on the wet suit I have donned only once (in a Decathlon changing room, with my two kids laughing and pointing). The first lesson is that the zip goes at the back, which I already know, but when I put my first foot in, it’s in the wrong leg but I don’t know that until the second foot is in and I’m pulling the thing up. Numpty.

Thanks for the vote of confidence Robyn!

A short while later, superhero outfit #2 on and adjusted, some more members of the group arrive. Some first timers, also training for their first triathlons, some more experienced and more superhero-like in physique and demeanour. And they all seem really nice actually – which I was surprised about. I’ve got a sneaking suspicion that a lot of triathletes are super-competitive – which I’m not, except with myself – and I like to avoid these people as much as possible. But like I said, this was a friendly group (maybe it takes time and experience to get that way?).

I collect a wrist band after signing my disclaimer, then before getting in for the swim I’m branded with “21” on the back of my right hand and given bright yellow cap.

Still smiling at this point!

I tell myself that, “this is a brand new skill, don’t underestimate how hard it might be, forget everything you think you know about swimming, put on the white belt and get re-educated.” That’s what I tell myself. But I can’t hear “sensible me” over “monkey me”, who’s screaming, “it’s F******* cold! You’ve got to pee now! Is my wet suit filling up? Why can’t I get the breathing right like in the pool?!” and several other “less kind” thoughts about my ability to learn anything new.

I have my own goggles, and due to an unforeseen absence of anti-fogging solution, I have to wipe away the mist on the inside of them every time we stop to tread water. All adds to the fun, and the difficulty. Let me be clear – I don’t get motion sickness. My wife and kids do. Every time we drive, get a train, or a boat. And I, at least in the past, have not been the most sympathetic driver/co-passenger. I’ve mellowed out a bit now, I mostly just roll my eyes…but it does strike me as a bit pathetic. Well, karma is a b****! Within about 5 minutes, I’m seeing spots in front of my eyes, I’m dizzy and breathing is all I can think about – but I’m not going to let anyone know that of course. I manage to focus enough to hear most of the instructions, but I’m tempted to grab the kayak and abort the whole mission. If it isn’t motion sickness, it’s probably just me hyperventilating (my fingers are tingling a bit).

By the end, both sensible me and monkey me are shouting profanities, the last of which being, “You had to use BREASTSTROKE?!? You couldn’t even do front crawl the whole way?!? P***!” I emerge from the reservoir, head down, and pride submerged somewhere out there by the second buoy.

My first true open water experience is now over, and I survived. I have walked away with lots to think about, which means something to write about (every cloud aye?). I am tempted to go to the pool tomorrow morning, just to make up for the swimming I thought I would be doing today.

Let’s just pretend I looked this warm and happy when I got out at the end.

My next action for project “Open Water Swimming” is to spend a good hour or so in open water, just to swim and practice on my own. I need to immerse myself in something and learn from trial and error, with occasional instruction. I don’t do so well with taking on a lot of information all at once. It just takes me a bit longer to process things, and that’s fine. As I’ve said once or twice, I’m no rocket scientist, but I’m no quitter either. I’ll be giving it another go as soon as I can.

Massive THANK YOU to Tri ‘n’ Swim Well for today’s session. Hoping there’s some embarrassing footage I can cringe at, and learn from soon!

Key takeaways:

  1. Pee before putting on the tri-suit and wet suit
  2. Sit down to put on the wet suit – zip at the back
  3. Anti-fogging solution for goggles (spitting, a la “Jaws” doesn’t work)
  4. Fewer and slower strokes
  5. Don’t use my legs to kick – save these for the bike and run
  6. Pick a tall stationary landmark for sighting, not buoys, clouds or people
  7. Hum into the water to exhale
  8. Swim my own race – just like running – and accept that I’m going to have someone swim over me
  9. Thicker swim suit when I get some money….or, only do triathlons in the height of summer!
  10. Get into the water, blow bubbles and float face down like a star fish to acclimiatise before the race
  11. Wear flip flops – my trainers are soaking!

P.S: Taking full advantage of one of the few Saturdays off work, I am watching my son play football. He’s only 6, so it’s a bit painful to watch. He can’t trap the ball, or pass straight, and he runs funny. Worst of all, he doesn’t listen to the coach and instead alternates between being seemingly lost in his own head, and messing about with his mate from school. My frustration quickly dissipates as I realise, the apple does not fall far from the tree!

A rare occasion…Saturday football training with Ralph.

My First Post

Hello, my name is Dean from Essex (Deano to those nearest and dearest) and I’m about to complete my first triathlon at Thorpe Park on Sunday 9th June 2019. I’ve been invited to write up my experience for my cousin Danny’s blog (, which I’ve been following for about a year. Apart from being quite an honor, it was the perfect motivation for starting my own vlog/blog/website and getting into a more regular writing routine.

About Me

I’m no swimmer or cyclist, but I absolutely love running – that said, I’m no Kipchoge either! As Murakami says, “I’m more workhorse than race horse.”

I’ve run 4 marathons, including Athens (November 2016, in 4:13), Antwerp (April 2018, in 3:44), Amsterdam (October 2018, in 3:27) and last but not least, London (April 2019, in 3:24). My ultimate running goal for the marathon is to go sub 3 and qualify for Boston.


So despite watching Danny’s efforts and being really inspired and impressed, I’ve put off getting involved in triathlon for a number of reasons:

  1. Money – I was warned that it’s not a cheap hobby to pursue, and it’s taken me a bit of time to acquire a basic road bike, tri suit and wetsuit. I won’t be wearing cycling shoes or clips this time around, and my only extravagance has been my upgrade to a Garmin Forerunner 910xt from my Forerunner 35. The entry prices are much higher than running events, which I don’t do often, preferring just to train and watch my progress.
  2. Time – I work ten hour days, most days, and occasional Saturdays. I do my best to spend the last two hours of each day with my wife and two young children, before going to bed at 21:00. To fit training in I get up at 04:30, commute to London, and then run or go to the gym before work. Fitting running into my life has been manageable (although I’ve sacrificed my weekend lie ins), but I don’t know how I’m going to regularly fit in swimming and cycling as well.
  3. Not my main goal – I started running to get fit, unwind from work, and admittedly now I’m approaching 40 – to avoid the dreaded “dad bod”. So what started as a thrice weekly jog, became marathon training and now my main goal is breaking 3 hours (Berlin 2020). Triathlon for me, at this point, is a good way of cross-training and I’ve not read anywhere that it will hinder my marathon progress.

All of that said, I’ve thrown myself into this challenge as much as my resources, family and work schedule will allow at this point. I’ve just finished reading “Iron War” by Matt Fitzgerald, and the possibility of completing a 140.6 one day has started as a little whisper in the back of my mind…maybe once that sub 3 mountain has been conquered.

I am aiming to post on “Vlog or Blog Mondays” from now on, so stay tuned.