Born in the Jurassic period before the Wooly Mammoth roamed the earth – the veteran was competing in the early exercise that would later be known as the sport of triathlon. He has competed in over a million events including hundreds of ironmans and has never DNFd a single one. A founding father of the local Tri-club the veteran is the backbone of the club and has featured in more race-reports than any other member.
Has watched a million events, but only competed in one. The newbie is often the person standing next to the water ready to race just as the racks are being put up 3hours before the start time. Nervous as hell, he will stare wide-eyed around transition like a tribesman stepping out of the the Amazon jungle into New York for the first time.
He is God amongst men. The owner of the local race record. Sponsorships adored all over his race kit like badges on a General. Almost impossible to talk to due to the sheer amount of Lycra-clad wannabes trying to stand next to him; you would have more chance in going to dinner with Scarlet Johansson than him actually saying a word to you. Often the face of the club, the Gun is a one of a kind.
Rocket propelled canisters align his frame. A super-charged v8 engine purrs steadily from the back of his chrome-plated custom painted steed. With a helmet forged from the very material that took the latest spaceship into orbit, and racing kit that is so tight that having kids is now impossible. The Try-Too-Hard is a man on a mission, usually finishing behind mid-pack he is always out to win, even during training. Don’t mess with this man, ever.
You know this person because you could write a book on the lamest of excuses that they have come up with to explain why they were 2.4sec slower in transition two. “Santa-clause caused me to lose my gel on the bike.” “The fumes from that flying car choked me on the top of the hill.” This person will never be happy with their race, even if they won and set a new course record by 36minutes.
The prized cow
After spending the later part of his life in the best paddock. The prized cow has been fattening himself up over the off-season and is now ready to race. Usually more into the post-race beer, than the pre-race gatorade – care should be taken to assure first aid is on course at all times.
Spends all of race morning lined up behind the port-a-loo. You would think that 7 bathroom dashes within the space of 45minutes was excessive, but The Pisser doesn’t stop there… because of course, there he is, sucking back a big old triple-shot-mocha-latte getting ready to piss all through his wetsuit before the race.
The Stats Man
His van is parked in front of transition, satellite-dish rotating smoothly on the roof. Inside are four different computer systems, each one set up to a corresponding Garmin strapped to his wrist. He has foot-pods, heart rate monitors, power-meters, weather stations, GPS coordinates of all the Russian submarines in the mid-Atlantic sea; and don’t you worry, after the race he will spend the next 7weeks pouring through the data with excitement as he hits 5th place on a Strava segment.
Turns up to every single event with the aviators on, hair gelled, and absolutely no shirt in sight. Usually wears some kind of speedo or tight fitting costume with colours so bright that if he didn’t have the aviators on he would probably be blind. The rockstar usually finishes at the back end of the field, but wins all points on the day for attire and striking good looks. Which he loses immediately for carrying on like a wanker in transition.
An ex-rugby front rower who got into the sport late in life purely because his wife threatened to leave him if he didn’t give up drinking, boxing, and watching old movies starring Arnold Schwarzenegger. The bulldozer is the one person in the race you don’t piss off, and the one person you do not swim near. If this bloke transforms into the hulk on course you better just keep riding that bike past transition and into the sunset.