Have you noticed? There is a lot of illicit exercise going on in the United Kingdom.

If you venture out when the streets are supposed to be empty, just after dawn you will be baffled if not run over by track-suited parents in trainers, jogging up and down, getting out before the kids are up — mustering their endorphins to face the day! Elderly gentlemen in shorts and cricket hats flash past you as you try to photograph a timid warbler. Ladies on bikes, dragging reluctant dogs, get tied up in leads and bump into post boxes to the alarm of the knitted figures sitting on top. Bicyclists shoot across in front of you as you wonder if you can make it through the lights on amber.

I guess it all started during Covid and has been exacerbated by the Olympics– it must be a good thing.

But what’s this? Lady in a wet suit in a park in St Neots — a long way from the sea.

Hang on — here are some more, bobbing around in the river.

Someone blows a whistle and they are off!

Suddenly, all thrashing about — like spawning fish in an upland pool, but they are whizzing along — after about 400 yards they all turn round and come back again. Only when they reach the shore can I categorize them — mainly young men, well young to me, but some young women and one man with a long white beard struggling as he runs along, to reach a string swinging down his back to unzip his wet-suit.

There is someone I know, in transition — nothing to worry about — just changing into her bicycling gear.

Only 25 kilometers — not even enough time for me to get a cup of coffee. Lots of riders struggle to get their feet attached to the pedals while riding as fast as they can up hill, one man in splendid electric blue shoes falls into a bed of nettles — that will sooth the pain in his joints.

After a 5 kilometre run Fran is triumphant!

In remarkable shape on the hottest day of the year, best times ever, and looking forward to the next sprint-triathlon! I feel fitter just from watching!