Pink Triathlete

July 2021

A race report in the style of a regency novella.

Distances: 1.9mile swim, 56mile bike, 13.1mile run

As a lady of resolute determination to actually attend a societal event in Austria this coming autumn, I found myself questing for an occasion to ease myself in gently to the great many crowds and fuss that is a ‘Triathlon’.

I was not disappointed with Outlaw at Holkham Hall, though perhaps a little unprepared for the challenging nature of my task.

It was to be the event of the season. Holkham Hall rises from the Norfolk landscape amidst a carpet of dewy fog. Deer cluster protectively beneath a great oak, tails twitching like light catching the surface of water. I have prepared my Velocipede, all my affects have been positioned to my station. As I take a turn around the Velocipede stable, I formally introduced myself to my fellow Oxygenaddict guild members. Messers Hagan and Steven exchange friendly encouragement as the time draws near to enter the lake.

The lake spans outward: a small pontoon has been erected where the gentry may walk down a ramp and majestically push off into the pleasant waters. (This is a much welcome addition to the rather crude jumping scenario of the last Guild race).

I feel confident with my lubricated neck, but my attire for this section of the Day felt rather restrictive compared to my usual minimal dress preference. The waters were warm and close, the silt pressing upon my face like cheap makeup. The light did not penetrate the water. I could not see a whiskers distance before me and yet my spacial awareness for flailing limbs guided my down the first half of the swim. I had to stop and clear the residue from my water glasses, and all of a sudden I was surrounded my the most persistent and invasive weeds. They wrapped themselves around my hands, nose clip, toes: everywhere! It disturbed my stroke but I carried on dutifully; I wished not to make a scene. As the end of the swim loomed, I felt my nose clip slip from weedy fingers and the smell of rancid effluent invaded my nostrils so pervasively that all of portrait capturings of my emergence were destroyed by the disgusted look on my face.

On to mount my Velocipede. Lady Ty, the most majestic and loyal creature. She bore me forth: the first 5 miles swept by like dust in the wind. Small villages sailed passed us as we journeyed: quaint and simple. I felt hay-feverish and unbecoming sneezed many times as my nose became used to the exchange of foul lake water to pollen-laden air.

I used a genius device to capture our power: we were adamant to carry out our plan and not to over exert ourselves and risk humiliation on our next visit to Holkham hall.

The countryside undulated. I saw many gentlemen pass me. Some I managed to meet again.

A Mr Mark of the Vocaline Guild pronounced my trisuit the best of the occasion! I was flattered! I take great pains to be up to the fashionable standard of the Guildsmen and request all my pieces for the most reputable designer. Several other compliments were to be had for my outfit and I was ecstatic.

The last sections of the ride was perhaps a little tedious: we circled the Hall on gravel packed roads, i found myself to be infuriatingly slow, and I was keen to be on my feet once more. I could feel my power slipping slightly.

Transition was to be swift: I changed my shoes and was ready to go for my 3 lap perambulation of the Halls grounds. An incline dominated the first third of each lap. Humidity clung to the perambulators like a veil. I shamelessly ambled up the hills then charged purposefully down the other side; somewhat abandoning my plan to counter the horrendous hills. I conversed with others, for this is a social occasion and it would be impolite not to. Although the heat hindered me, I did not feel ashamed of my progress. I still had a smile on my face, for what is a lady worth if she does not appear charming in all company?

My dearest friends lined the end of each lap to encourage me. I saw dear Mr Kisby and his beagle cry support and then not long after the adulations of Ladies Hiller, Johnson, Wendt and my own husband. In their Sunday Stompette bests they cried out and beat their fists. So wonderful.

I made the acquaintance on my final route of a charming lady who found this to be her first occasion of a Triathlon this length. She commented to her brother by-stander how very lonely it was not to talk to anyone. I took it upon myself to furnish the lady with her wish and made a point to perambulate beside her a while and give encouragement. For my goal of this event was to finish with a smile upon my face and if I had the power to give it to someone else then I was most assuredly going to do that.

And then the somewhat gaudy orange carpet could be seen in the distance: bright stompettes complete with rainbow flags hurled praise in a most wild manner. I could feel my feet gaining speed as I flew down the chute. And then a most impertinent stranger shot beside me in an impolite sprint! Ruining my attention! No matter, I smiled and finished with my goal exacted.

I had achieved staying to my plan as best I could, despite challenging conditions: my power was exact to the watt; my smile was a-fixed! The perambulation was perhaps a deviation of my initial idea, for I had strolled the hills and sped down them, rather than adopt the more regular plan I have enacted during my training. I feel this worked incredibly well this time, though. My swim about the lake had been two minutes on my previous distance in 2019, but the water was so foul and syrupy, I am willing for my happiness to be unswayed.

A most excellent event, though I do enjoy my visits to Thorsby Hall: both are highly commendable to the Outlaw season.