My Passion with Richard Outhwaite: In at the deep end – an introduction to the ironman way of life

I have always been heavily involved in sport, having played rugby union for England under-18s and 21s and subsequently playing as a semi-professional for Newcastle Falcons in order to fund my way through university.

Following a painful sporting accident and an even more painful knee operation, I suddenly found that I was no longer able to participate in contact sports and I looked around for a less combative sport to enjoy.

I hit upon triathlon by accident six years ago. A colleague at the time persuaded me to join him for a sprint-distance triathlon, then left me standing alone on the start line – apparently, he only realised at the last minute that he couldn’t swim.

Having huffed and puffed and sweated my way around the course, I was hooked.

I have now competed in more than 40 races including three half ironman distance races and a full ironman. An ironman distance race includes a 2.4-mile open-water swim, a 112-mile bike ride and then a 26.2-mile run.

As a triathlete, your view of what constitutes acceptable behaviour changes. What you previously may have considered strange (if not completely unacceptable) becomes natural – you no longer have any shame at stripping off in the transition area in front of a crowd of people and you even begin to celebrate incontinence. Every spare hour is spent either training or thinking about training, and the bike always comes on holiday.

My most memorable race was my first half ironman at Belvoir Castle (known as “the Beaver”). On the way to the transition area, my girlfriend (while helpfully pointing out the dangers of potholes in the uneven ground) promptly fell down a pothole and tore the ligaments in her ankle, passed out three times and had to be carried to the first-aid tent for paramedic assistance.

Being a true triathlete, I promptly left her in the safety of the first-aid tent (having checked she would survive) for five hours while I competed, did a personal best time, picked her up from the tent and made her drive the car home – well, I was a little tired.

The race referee starts every race with a list of dire warnings about road safety and the importance of good manners while racing – but then ends with the most important rule of all: “Remember to smile – and have fun” – lessons not only for triathlon but for life itself.

It’s easy to forget when you are slogging away on the bike, going up a steep hill, with a headwind, at some ridiculous early time on a Sunday morning, knowing that once the bike has finished you have got to get out on the run with legs that feel like jelly.

However, nothing quite equals the feeling of satisfaction and achievement when you finally cross the finish line.