The Lanzarote Duathlon one…

Chappers, Nick and I stood in line, waiting to collect our race numbers. In front and to the side of us were men sporting iron man gear who looked the real deal. There would be dozens of countries represented, with athletes having flown in or having arranged their winter training camp around this race.

And then there were the three of us.

We’d spent the week at Club La Santa, climbing the islands' best roads, time trialling through the fire roads of Timanfaya National Park and eating everything that our favourite cake shop, Jonny Bakes, and all the little tapas bars could serve us.

In short, the Lanzarote Duathlon would be the culmination of a week spent in winter sun having a damn good time, while it was soggy, dark and cold back home.

The race was an initial 5k run, made up of 2 x 2.5k loops. Each loop took us out along the lake and round the gravel roads before completing a lap of the running track.

The 20k bike course saw us climb up to Soo, a small village which peered down over Club La Santa, and then down the fast road to Famara; Lanzarote's growing surf town, before heading back for the final run.

That final run was a single lap of the run course, ending with a sprint finish on the track.

And what a sprint finish it would be.

A little about my two mates and adversaries for this race. Let’s take Nick first. He's the most disciplined athlete I know and competes for GB at Iron Man distance.

Let's just say, he's got staying power.

And then there’s Chappers. I think he was born with his feet on the pedals. If there’s anyone who maintains better bike fitness, with or without trying, I’d like to meet them.

If the race went to form, I'd have the edge on the run and Nick and Chappers would edge the bike. Nick would improve as the race went on, whereas I'd likely be holding on, willing the finish line to appear. 

As we stood next to each other on the start line, I hoped the long winter miles and the extra Jonny Bakes visit we'd made might slow them down.

Nick didn't get the memo.

The starter's gun went, and we were off round the track and out on to the roads.

The pace of the lead bunch was fast with a dozen national team tri suits on display. While January's a winter month in Lanzarote, and it was only a smidge after 8am, it was already hot. The race was on.

As I left the track to start lap 2, I knew I'd gone out hard. My Garmin was telling me I was on a 3.45/km pace. That wasn't hard, it was simply too fast. I'd got caught up with the occasion and needed to pace this second lap better. I spotted Chappers. I then heard El, who was sitting the race out, shouting his own brand of encouragement from the sidelines. But where was Nick?

A moment later, I glanced over my shoulder and there he was. Like a shadow.

I eeked out the slimmest of margins as we completed lap 2. I could tell from El's words of encouragement that Nick was only a handful of paces behind me. The plan to get some cushion for the bike leg hadn't worked and now, as we entered T1, Nick would have the advantage.

I decided I had to use my handful of seconds to get an early lead on the bike, especially whilst climbing to Soo. I was up, out of the saddle and buried myself in the 5k or so to Soo. I had a narrow margin of maybe 10 or 15 seconds.

Unsurprisingly, not long after we hit the downhill section Nick appeared. He was monstering the race, given he spent all his training time preparing for races 10 times this length and distance.

For 10k or so we worked together, taking it in turns to punch a hole through the headwind that blew all the way back to Club La Santa and T2. As we hit Soo for the second time, Nick was doing most of the work and I was holding on desperately to his back wheel. At least this part of the race was holding to form. As we headed back into transition for the final run, Chappers had halved the gap we'd had over him. He'd beasted the bike leg.

Nick and I passed El side by side. We had 2.5k left to race.

It's not often that I've found myself genuinely racing someone for the entirety of a race. I often find myself trying to catch, or stay ahead of someone, but rarely are events of this distance, raced like this was, side by side, step by step.

We notched the first kilometre up and we remained side by side. I knew this must have been hurting him as much as it was me, the pace being close to what either of us were capable of over an hour's race. The pace was bouncing around 3.45/km. We entered the track together. 400m to go.

I put my head down and went all in.

300m left and Nick hadn't come round me.

200m, on the bend, and Nick hadn't come round me.

Into the last 100m and I tried to up the pace.

In reality, there was no pace change whatsoever. I had nothing left. Luckily for me it was just enough to cross the line first, by the slimmest of margins. Had the race been another 5k, on the bike or the run, I'm pretty sure the order would have been reversed.

We finished 49th and 50th. Chappers came in shortly after, placing 71st.

We headed to the pool bar for a long chat and an even longer lunch, trying to put off all thoughts of heading back to the wet and windy UK for a while longer.