Earlier this year my sister completed in the London triathlon. I’m still to decide if this makes her a warrior or a moron. Regardless, I bravely stepped up to the plate to photograph the event. It began, as all good stories should, with lunch. I had some malaysian stir fried rice thing which was distinguished by its mediocrity (much like my camera). Jess and Dad took more time and presumably made a better decision.

My mother appeared estatic afterwards, although it is often difficult to disentangle genuine mirth from the background lunacy sometimes. In the reflection you can see a bit more of the docklands scene with cranes and what not. My father was convinced they were fakes.

This industrial wasteland provided the scenery for the event. It’s dramatic if nothing else. As you can see its pretty much impossible to pick out any individuals from the mass of identical swimmers. They would come in ‘waves’ where what looked like a hundred or so people would jump into the river and proceed to be motivated by some loud mouth with a megaphone. One of the women with the pink swimming caps is my sister.

And here is the woman of the hour, looking extremely wired. One hopes the effect is due to natural adrenaline rather than speed or some other performance enhancer. Remarkably she wasn’t too worse for wear whereas I had succumbed to sunstroke. Poor me. Lots more photos here…