or
Tour de Sutton
Acknowledgments
The story is pure fantasy, any resemblance with real characters is coincidental and the author takes no responsibility or any extra tube-work in the pool….
Ok, ok, it is about US, and for the piquant change we play on the dark side this time. Why the dark is bad anyway?! The light get its meaning only by darkness, as the day is not exist without night….(Quoting from my vampire book)
BOOK I.
Once upon a time, in the Middle-Earth, the dark and mysterious magus, Sauron, (the Lord of the rings- he has some rings, but he is pursuing one more, the ONE, the most powerful, the magic one, with an M- DOT on it) leaded his little army into battle himself. An army of captured hobbits, ambitious men, compensating dwarfs, desperated elves and fallen angels…
In every age the soldiers went to fight on their horses…so our army went on his bikes.
By the GPS the shortest way was about 400 km. Luckily, the Lord knew the short cut….what only did not include the Mt. Blanc, because no one packed ice -axe in, not even the dwarfs…
So we went: up and down, up and down, while the EYE was following us in the captured elf car, carrying every essential for battle, except water of course…
Finally, we arrived to face the finest selection of the French army.
Day before the race we demonstrated some pool session for impressing the frenzies…
The battle started right in the morning. Some spy spotted out our monster, the Wongstar and with his car he hit out her softest spot: her horse, Khan…but you can not discourage her easy, she still did the swim and doubled the run course….Now she is moving around on fixed gear….ouch…
The next victim was Many, one of our many hobbits, he broke his big toe on the rock exiting the water. Well, you have to know, hobbits have one sensitive point: their toes…..
In these modern ages, due to some gene doping and wearing shoes, hobbits lost their hair on their feet but they still have a second toe overreaching their big toe….you can recognize them by their purple or no nail. Avia developed a shoes special for hobbits, ask them for shipping…
You can also recognize hobbits by the way they are wearing aero helmets to hide and press down their large and pointy ears,…if you are a hobbit or a suspected descendant, you MUST get one, but I guess you have one already 
Ordinary hobbits must need some disc also as a compensation for their size. Good for jarring and looks cool…we do not have ordinary hobbits…
Well, I was swimming all alone between two groups, like almost everywhere in this season.
It seems to me: no one else swim like Mademoiselle Coco,….she is unique, no one can match her speed J
I passed our two lady hobbits, LC and Maki Hari, cheering Maki with my all Japanese vocabulary, like: kamikaze, hara-kiri, ninja….she used to make a bow for everything told to her , not now, because her front tire would rub her forehead…
Then I passed the Bekinator having chicken legs- she suffered from food poisoning.
Well, previous evening the Bad Spirit managed to convince her that the pre-(half) cooked chicken is all right….While Bek, who grew up on kangaroo meat, went down with some bug on the race day, the Spirit tossed her chicken beneath the table, complained some stomach ache, then smashed the field….Well done, Spirit….
I picked up the second placed Mademoiselle Jeanne D’Arc, the new hope of the French triathlon. Of course, she is running under a different name in this life, you can understand that, something really frenchy like “Cologne”…but I recognized her: her fire and eyes….
On the front, the Spirit pushed down the hammer, (yep, she is a dwarf…), her lead went more then 10 minutes at some point, luckily I can only count in French up till ten….
Then the French pulled out their lethal weapon, a hobbit who came from gymnastic and weighted no more than 40 kgs, including her bike with bottles and gels…
Suddenly a big pack formed by media cars, supporters, age groupers…I nestled in like a baby cuckoo…enjoying their warmth and draft and any occasion when I could use my massive weight advantage, I attacked, forcing the little hobbit to chase me down. Call me mean Coco….no, I was a pilgrim on Holiday, and we call this tactic. But the group dropped me all the time on the technical descendents, “oh, mon Dieu!” she did not even bend her hobbit bike into the corner, plus she was so ground level….
But I broke her finally. On the last, famous 13 km climbing she got 10 minutes. She must pulled her hobbit bike on string…. J
I shaved down some minutes from the Spirit on the climb too….who mind the ugly yellow jersey if you could win the nice polka dotty one…. J
However I found myself in second place and by the plan I was a “brick”-(running only a single loop on the run course)…I felt no giving up my podium. I kept going, slowly, but steady. I left the Spirit on the front ;-), then I was passed by Jeanne d’Arc. Suddenly I saw the Bekinator bouncing back (after getting rid of the chicken legs).
Well, I am vain.
Anyone can pass me, I do not mind… EXCEPTIONS: any family member (brother, sister), neighbors, best friends, country mate, team mate, training buddy…well, Bek fulfilled at least 3 of the criterions, so I had to pick it up a bit to secure MY podium from her…..because IT IS MINE, MY PRECIOUSSSSSS…..
