"I don't know why you carried on and went up The Ben, I'd have gone to the Pub." said the victorious "Sea Otter" formally known as The Walrus.
The early dip in Loch Linnhe just opposite Morrisons gave the Walrus/Otter a head start, despite frittering away about 8 mins in Transition 1 pfaffing around with base layers.
Then as predicted, more or less, my Big Ben Nevis Triathlon unravelled with automatic failure due to Natural Weakness and a complete breakdown of the No-Training Policy particularly with respect to the hated Mountain Biking.
"Take those last two off and put them on to the run they're five minutes past the cut off point for starting the fourth lap." said the Big Chief indicating me and some other hapless weakling.
So that was the end of the Mountain Biking, three laps instead of the four, to be quite honest I was getting a bit cheesed off with the 90km of two wheel hell by this point.
Well I thought it's all over now what's the effing point? so I stopped for a cup of tea with some of the marshalls at the foot of the tourist path to Britains highest point before pressing on.
A harsh reality check - I was going to be robbed of even the satisfaction of properly completing the race let alone vanquishing the formerly obese, I'd be simply marked down as DNF. DNF!
I'd only gone on about quarter of a mile further when who should come trotting up behind but the Sea Otter, with completion of the requisite four laps and a now guaranteed victory in hand.
This was of course, barring some chance fracture or knee dislocation during the hell-for-leather descent back to the town centre.
Anyway the awards were dished out later in the Ben Nevis Inn.
"...And each year we like to present a special prize... this year to..."
Yes, you've guessed it ... basically
A prize for not being fat.
There is loud applause.
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