IM: Some like it hot

I was feeling pretty pessimistic about the whole triathlon malarkey when I left the UK, and was feeling like I may have to use the opt-out/refund that seems to be available. Swimming was not improving, still, meaning that 400m was a struggle, never mind 4km. This was particularly disappointing as I had some apparently useful lessons from a fantastic moustachioed Turk called Mohammed, who was forever encouraging me to kick harder and make my arms “Floppy floppy floppy,” or “Floppy more, floppymore!” Add to this my doubts regarding the possibility of a Mzungu like me taking any form of aerobic exercise in 30 C heat, and I was starting to wonder if there was any point in resuscitating my dying hopes.
But, here I sit in a Kibanda in Mtwara, admittedly on only my 2nd day here, and things seem a lot more positive. I feel I can move forward with all three disciplines:
Swimming. Suze and I’s first hotel had a pool, only a tiny one but sufficient to do some drills and repeatedly practise being floppy. After 2-3 days of this we went to Bongoyo Island, where there is the opportunity for some unprecedented sea swimming in stunningly clear warm water. I always feel far better in open water, and Bongoyo was no exception. Mtwara will be a lot more difficult to get going, owing to the savage underfoot coral and broken shells, but once into the water it again looks beautiful.
Cycling. My mountain bike got here. I guess the phrase I’d like to use would be “Got here in one piece”, but this would be a wicked lie. I had to unbolt almost everything that gets bolted on, to the point where it was debatable whether there was any merit in paying what I did for a bike box, it was really a large suitcase full of spare parts. Even this took a few metres of duct tape and a few hours of sweating, jiggling and swearing to close. Then I had to work some Jedi mind tricks with two separate airport security people to persuade them that they really didn’t need me to open it again. Still, more or less all of the parts arrived, with only minor scratches. I could only bring very basic tools within my luggage allowance, and found myself wishing I’d paid more attention to that week in Swahili lessons where we learnt to say “I don’t suppose your mechanic has a metric hex-key torque wrench I could borrow?..” Initially I was all on my own in putting it back together, but then a bright blue agamid lizard hung out for a while, subsequently joined my a few of the hotel staff. Having built it up again (in the shade of a palm tree in front of the sea shore) I find only two problems. The back brake is locked on (should be surmountable by disassembling the calliper and forcing the pistons back, but don’t want to rush this and damage anything); and I forgot to pack a pump. This second point is truly, weightily and historically stupid, especially given that nobody in Tanzania seems to use Presta valves. I must thank the Mrs for pointing out that I can buy two local inner tubes with local valves until my remaining spares and tools arrive. Since the friendly hotel maintenance man and I have tried all we can with an industrial air compressor (but no torque wrench), this will have to be the way.
Running. It is possible! We went this morning at 0615 and it is pretty bearable really. By about 0700 is becomes insufferably hot and humid, but I think that longer runs will be do-able if I set out at 0500 and take a bottle of water with me. The most striking thing I learnt was that you must not stop! If you think you are getting sweaty while running, keep in mind that your movement is creating a sort of airflow over your body; try stopping for a minute and unless there is some kind of breeze it just starts to cascade down your face and torso.