Tri-suits are not flattering. Every lump and bump is highlighted when it’s covered by lycra. That’s why, when I go to a race, I always admire anyone who would wear one because it requires a level of body confidence I don’t possess. I’d much rather have a tri-burlap sack.

But, at races, among the ‘normal’ athletes you will also find the men and women who couldn’t crease a suit even if they breathed out after eating a dozen Krispy Kreme donuts. The Kreme de la Kreme of triathletes. The ones you can’t help buy admire if you end up running, cycling or swimming behind them.

I don’t notice these physical gods at any other time. I don’t think “oh my, what broad shoulders he has” or “what a slim waist she has” at any other time. They only catch my eye at races and only with a tri-suit. That’s why I think I might be… ahem… tri-sexual.