Choose life. Choose triathlon. Don’t choose. Do all three. Choose a fucking scary wetsuit, choose a rubber cap, choose goggle eyes, choose X2U, Speedo, tiny shorts and vest tops. Choose goose poo, grassy feet and sun visors. Choose the most expensive bike in the shop. Choose painful running. Choose a skinny team vest that leaves nothing to the imagination. Choose energy gels in a range of snotty flavours. Choose an Ironman and wonder what the fuck you're doing bashing pavements in the dark. Choose sitting in transition trying to skin your wetsuit off your aching body, wondering why there’s still two disciplines to go and trying to get wet feet into shoes as they spin by on your pedals. Choose slogging your way to the finish line, cursing the commentator for reading out your best achievements, when it was nothing more than not killing the fucking wheel suck that clammed to your arse all the way round the bike leg.
Choose life. Choose diversity. Choose triathlon.
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