Well that’s what happened to me anyway and now I’m coming to you from a bed, battered, bruised and unable to walk without feeling excruciating pain. 

This all began one night with one of my foolhardy fitness friends, happy enough to forget the difference between pride and stupidity, telling me I wouldn’t be brave enough to tackle a half Ironman. That was it really, the challenge was on.

Three months on, there I was at the starting line ready to compete in a 2km swim, a 90km bike ride and a half marathon (21km) run, as my fellow competitors talked about how they were training 23 hours a week. Oh dear. 

I couldn’t back out now, so readers, here’s what happened…   

So we begin with the swim. Having grown up in the ocean surfing, diving, skiing, I was pretty confident with the water leg. None the less I did do some water training; well, I clocked in several times at the olympic pool to swim 2kms. 

But, no one told me it was a prerequisite to wear a full sized wetsuit to this event. So there I was, shaking like I was battery powered in a bright yellow and blue swimsuit. I think the rules for standing out in a bright, outlandish outfits is; you either win it or you look really good doing it. I did neither. 

Off I went, adrenaline pumping and feeling confident. Pounding through the water, I felt energetic and determined, until suddenly I thought ‘oh I should probably look where I am going’. I was about 30 metres off the beaten track! I spent the rest of the race trying to stay in a straight line. Apparently this swim is nothing like paddling on a surfboard. Who knew?

The moral of the story is to spend more time practicing in the open water and don't assume it's just like the pool minus the walls.

For Christmas my parents gave me a new bike. I was really excited, thinking I would be able to do some good training as I had never ridden a bike on the road before. So off I went for my first training session, it lasted about 10km before the handlebars started falling apart. Turns out the bike me and my brothers and sister had given my mum for her birthday, (it was really cheap), had been re-gifted and passed to me, upon having given the name 'the backwards bike'- as in it's as good as going backwards. 

So this bike was getting slightly ignored right up to the week before the big event, when I was becoming slightly anxious about the ride leg. I brushed off the dust and cobwebs and took it down the Barton Highway from Canberra, my mission was to get across to Gundaroo and swing back into Canberra via Bonner - a good solid 70km and a nice ride, so I thought. 

I made it to the Gundaroo Road before I got a flat tyre, and of course there was no phone reception. Five more kilometres down the track I burst out hysterically crying and cursing the animals in the paddocks beside me. Not my finest moment, I apologise to anyone who drove past. I made it back to Canberra after six hours.

So you can imagine the bike leg wasn't the strongest. Let's just say I was grateful for the 70-year-old lady who was a couple of hundred metres behind me, saving me from being the last bike rider over the line, burnt to a crisp.

Through this experience I discovered that a variety of different kinds of people participate in these things. There’s the Alien hat guys, seriously one of the funniest things you’ll see on someones head, all in the name of aerodynamics. There’s the guys that look like they have just been flour-bombed with sunscreen (my retrospective tomato coloured back envies this though). The really old guys - How are you doing this? More importantly, how are you beating me…. By a whole 20kms?

There are the Pro women that look like rockstar fembots, so close to the men in speed and endurance. I got chills. Oh, I was not in this category. And of course there's the serious athletes that are curled up vomiting somewhere along the course, but won't accept any help because they don't want to be disqualified. And what sort of guy am I? Apparently I am that guy who is into high fiving everyone - because I can't believe I'm nearly at the finish line, someone better cheer before I fall over. 

I came in as the 17th last competitor, out of over 100. Though even eating hurts, I'm really proud I finished. You can do anything if you're stupid and determined enough - only once though. Oh, and I'm re-gifting the backwards bike for my brother's birthday!