28th JUne. "You're Gonna Be An Ironman Today!"

I'd been plagued by regret most of the night as to why I never thought to buy half a litre of Gaviscon or the french equivalent.

At 5.00am I mouth muesli and stomach acid to the sound of "We are the champions! We are the champions!" coming from the otters mobile cum mp3 whilst feeling about as full of life as Freddie Mercury.

" I don't think I'll even finish the swim..."

"We can either wait for the taxi and miss the start or if we set off now we can make it walking." reasons the upbeat Otter as we stand with Isabelle in the dark in a mild drizzle."

"Well what's another mile on top of a 140...?"

This feels like the walk of the condemned, there's no way out, I've told too many people, not to mention the money, the weeks of training, the broken forever ligament, the marathon of cardboard boxes... "Oh I had a dodgy burger on the campsite, I was feeling a bit ill so I decided not to bother..."

Now I'm getting more worried and sick if that was possible, even the Otter's looking a bit pale and nauseous "Where are the bouys for the swim? Is that the bouys?"

"WHAT! Not that one, there's another one out there."

"Where?"

"On the horizon."

"Oh fuck."