Eight o'clock struck and I was lost in transition. I picked up a shoe. It had the same lock lace as mine. I stood dazed, losing focus. Then it happened, a sharp lash of the Bracken tongue, "That's mine" it lashed. I dropped the shoe. Maeve scampered under her bike to retrieve. I turned saw my shoes, put them on and legged it up the road. I got another tongue lashing as she passed me several hundred yards up the road. Then it was Trish's turn. As she passed me shortly after, she pointedly reminded me in short sharp stabs not to park my bike in her spot. (I found out later that she had to scarper under my bike to retrieve her shoes).
These are the delights that I, a mere mortal of the duathlon type had to endure, as I so ably and single handedly hindered others, in the hope that I might still beat them in that second run of the so recent duathlon.
LADIES, I humbly apologise for my indiscretions and hope that you both can forgive me and let me beat you next time.
Right, that said, does anyone else have any race faux pas, they want to get of their chest?
