Ridiculously chuffed to have survived being No. 46

I ran a race and I liked it

I’m terrified of racing but I belong to a running club and like to join in, so for the last year, I’ve been attending various timed events described as “not a race” – which sometimes leave me feeling a bit baffled, as if I’ve run a race by accident.

So this week I bit the bullet and did an aquathon. On purpose. To conquer the fear.

Our local aquathon is a 200m swim followed by a 2-mile run so I figured it would be easy — but still I was scared.


(1) Coming last. Of course it doesn’t matter but still, Nooo! I reckon we evolved to run to either catch food or avoid being caught by predators — so coming last would mean starving or, worse, being eaten. Being eaten is the one that resonates with me.

(2) Accidentally breaking the rules by going the wrong way, getting lost, using the wrong kit, and so on. E.g. using the wrong steps to exit the pool or turning too early (not that I’d even notice if anyone else did it).

(3) The transition: I love swimming and running, but the chance of me getting both of my trainers onto wet feet with sea-cold fingers and slippery laces in a hurry is likely to result in all kinds of ungainly, one-legged/one-shoed stupidity, and me coming last (see (1)).

None of these fears is particularly rational in the context of jogging along the prom with a bunch of mates, so I hurled myself in and hoped for the best.

Me, sopping wet, not noticing the mad arrow , running in sheer relief at having got both my shoes on


I wasn’t sure what to expect but as it turns out, the Jubilee Pool aquathon was relaxed and well organised, and beautifully designed for scared newbies like me.

Numbered participants line up to drop into the pool at 30-second intervals, swim 200m, exit the pool beside two unmissable, yellow-jacketed marshals, yank on their trainers, then run to Newlyn and back (a mile each way / 2 miles in total). So you finish back near the start (you can leave your stuff at the pool), and because of the staggered start, you don’t really know who’s ahead and who’s behind — you just swim and run as fast as you can, shout your number (or show your numbered hands) at the finish line, and the individual times are all worked out and published later.

If you don’t care where you came, you don’t have to look. Just as the “not a race” events often include a racing element, this event includes people who just jog along beside family and friends to be sociable.

Some participants are clearly seasoned triathletes, others not. Some are fully able-bodied, others aren’t. Some were assisted by other runners (organised in advance). Some do the whole thing in less than 15 minutes, others take over half an hour. Everyone’s really smiley and friendly and in it for the fun.

I enjoyed the swim — it’s hard not to: the Jubilee Pool is beautiful and the water cool (yey, that swimmer who swam along gasping, “F’kin cold, f’kin COLD!” Sure, it’s not heated yet but you warm up in moments). The swim’s really short so it’s easy to just bang it out. If I’d not been busy watching people, I’d have really hammered this and if I do it again, I will. The transition was pure evil as expected and took way longer than I was comfortable with: tying slippery, wet shoe laces with cold hands in a full-on hurry. I fumbled — later some of the other runners showed me their elastic laces, which look ideal. The run was short and flat but it was surprisingly hard to adjust from the swim — running in swimwear with rash vest and light shorts felt weird and the breathing is different, but after a couple of minutes, it was all fine and I ran as usual. Loads of people call out “well done” and say hi along the way and the finish line is a cheering hug-fest, which felt really friendly and lovely.

My times were crap but not embarrassing: I placed 63rd out of 95; swam 200m in 4:14 (min:sec), then ran 2 miles in 17:32 (including a minute’s transition).

Was it fun? Yeah, it really was. I’d love to do it again.

And racing — am I still scared?

Well, actually, not so much. Just putting myself through the anxiety has made it fade. I wasn’t the only nervous person on the day and all of us were OK. I may never be a racer by nature: I still prefer the wilderness and my long rambles. But there was something a bit predatory about swimming after someone else with the sole aim of catching them…

And I like to eat.


    • TU says:

      Thanks and yes – although worries about coming last, getting it wrong, and looking stupid cover quite a lot of activities for me. I’ve had to come to terms with the fact that I might, and the world’s still unlikely to end. Also it’s better than never doing anything. (Hopefully!)

Leave a comment

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.