56 | AustrAliAn triAthletewith Willy
even then some may see them as a
flagrant fashion faux pas. I wore a fluoro
running jacket (also a tight fit, I must
admit), a headband to keep my ears warm
(also fluoro - seriously running companies,
think of how we look to non-runners!), and
a pair of gloves (thankfully, not fluoro).
Clearly, I was cruising for a fashion
bruising. However, the icing on the cake
was the nasal dilator shoved fair up my
olfactory orifice. It was a sample gifted to
me to trial with the assurance of amplified
oxygen uptake amid a litany of other
promises and had lain dormant, untested
in my car for a month or so. Moments
before the fuzz descended on me in a fury
of flashing lights and sirens - I had decided
that this morn was the time to finally test
this glorified schnozzle extender, and had
taken it from the passenger seat and
tested its fit in my nose. I had to assume
that the officers thought that I had been
texting on my phone, rather than
attempting to manipulate my oxygen
uptake. As I wound down my window, I
was well aware of just how ridiculous my
explanation was about to be...
It wasn’t the first encounter with the
law I’ve had during my triathlon career,
most of which have come while clad in
Lycra and on two wheels. I’ll come clean,
I’ve been stopped a couple of times for
rolling a red light. Once, as I blindly rolled
through a sign to merge onto a main road
at 40km/hour in a delirious state at the
end of a five-hour bludgeoning - I escaped
the fine I deserved – the officer took pity on
me this time, saying that I looked like I’d
been through hell, and recommended I getT
he police lights went on,
reflecting in my rear-view
mirror with all the unwanted
lumens of a fireworks display
after a grumpy pensioner’s bedtime.
I was instantly riddled with guilt, like
when you smash the last Tim Tam, even
though you’re over quota. I eased my
Fiesta to the side of the road, envisaging
a Shawshank Redemption-esque future
in the slammer. However, the guilt soon
gave way to a more quizzical line of
inquiry. As I ran the last few minutes of
activity through my head – I couldn’t
think of a single thing I’d done wrong!
I’d been stopped at the lights, so I could
comfortably rule out exceeding the
conventional velocity as my infringement.
Hell, in the Fiesta, I’m not even sure that’s
possible, save for a school zone or car
park. The Fiesta, although lacking flash,
was certainly roadworthy, I hadn’t rolled
a stop sign, and I clearly wasn’t drinkdriving - it was 6am in the morning,
and I was on my way to training!
With this last thought, the penny
started to drop, and as the officers walked
from their car to mine, I began to take
stock of my situation, as it might be
viewed from an impartial observer. For
starters, I was dressed for function, not
form. It was the middle of winter, and I
was driving to running training, and had
clearly not anticipated anyone laying
witness to my attire. I had running tights
on, not conventional attire for a male
unless said male is actually running, andAustralian
Triathlon Police
Dan Wilson
The officers sized me up. I must
have resembled an aerobics instructor
from the 80s. — Dan Wilson
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