So now, after all the practice we've put in this past year. The time has arrived. And just like that we're off.
Placement at the first corner is key. Lycra man is away in a flash, ahead of the crowd. I won't see him again until after, when I catch sight of him in the car park putting his stuff in his car.
Mrs P has got off to a good start too. She's setting a determined pace through the initial mayhem and has avoided the usual first-turn logjam. She's carrying her elbows high so anybody too close will get a surprise.
As for me, well, I'm stuck in the pack. It always happens.
Someone from the veterans' grade is slowly plodding through, completely oblivious to the snarling wolves behind, slowing to a virtual crawl at times to check they've still got all their equipment and admire the scenery.
Event etiquette demands you don't yell abuse or barge past. But it's hard. Especially when all that training has you like a tightly sprung coil waiting to cut loose.
There's also the fact me and Mrs P are running our race to a pre-conceived schedule which involves precise mutual arrival in transition.
And, because I'm a gentleman, I'm also carrying her water bottle. I don't have one.
I'm a man. I don't need it. It's the same with directions, self-improvement books and sunscreen. Though, in all seriousness, we all should use the latter.
Anyway. By the time I negotiate the oldies and the weaving early stages of the course, Mrs P is already awaiting refuelling. I charge into transition just in time and once she's slugged a litre back, we're away again.
Luckily, Mrs P prepared a list well in advance of this event.
She said last year, mid-race, she stumbled and got a bit lost. No such fear this year.
She knows exactly where she's going. What she needs. The pace is still good and I'm keeping up.
But I knew we would be paying the price soon. In any event like this you hit a wall. It's when your body has had enough and your mind wanders.
When it hit me I found myself slowing down, drifting away. Cans of peaches and mixed fruit floated before my eyes.
Luckily, Mrs P was ready and waiting. She grabbed me by the arm and hauled me out of the daydream.
By now everything was getting really heavy and it became a case of get there or be knocked over by the pack coming up from behind.
Fortunately the finish line was in sight and as we went through the finish chute we knew we'd done our best time ever and ticked one of the big things off our Christmas bucket list. And we'd done it together.
Would we do it again? Probably. I mean, doing your Christmas grocery shopping at Pak'nSave immediately when it opens in the morning is easy.
Christmas grocery shopping? I hear you say.
Of course.
What did you think I meant? The Rotorua Half-ironman triathlon or something?
Kevin Page has been a journalist for 34 years. He hasn't made enough money to retire after writing about serious topics for years so he's giving humour a shot instead.
