For several months, I have been mounting a triathlon comeback following a two year hiatus from competition. I was forced from Australia to Santa Cruz, California by the media frenzy surrounding my much awaited return to the sport. Unfortunately, the road back has not been smooth. I have been dogged by various leg and foot injuries (osteoporosis?) and hurtful rumours linking me romantically to pop princess Jessica Simpson. A confusion brought about by her striking similarity in appearance to my wife. I want to assure everyone that Jessica and I are friends. I just let her clean the car sometimes.

In preparation for last weekends Half Ironman Vineman triathlon I competed in the San Jose International triathlon in the "Elite" category in June. I managed to scab a free entry on the basis of my nationality and general groveling to the race organiser. My performance kept the autograph hunters at bay finishing 4th Elite but 30th overall. Ooops. But it was a useful exercise helping me realise a bit more work and training was required on the bike if I was going to finish the Half in any style.

I've realised that triathlons in California are for rich people. The press release for Vineman proudly states the average annual income of entrants is $116,000. If the event was handicapped by earnings I would have won by about half an hour. The discrepancy between disposable income and talent was best personified on Sunday by a determined but oblivious triathlete charging out of T1 with his pro edition aero helmet on backwards.

As for the race itself, held in the wine country of California, the swim was an out and back affair in Russian River. It was so shallow in places that the Australian beach invention of "dolphining" came in handy occasionally.  Navigation was difficult. Not because of the buoy placement but because my age group wave went off last behind about 2000 people, about 1000 of which I ended up passing during the swim. It was good for the ego and I actually had the rare impression of riding fast once out on the bike course.

At about halfway I got off the bike to hide behind a tree. Relieving oneself on the course is a disqualifiable offense under USAT rules but I figured if I was caught I could just put on a French accent and blame it on cultural differences. My time in France taught me that a cycling peloton would only just stop short of turning around and spraying passing traffic.

It was not long after I remounted the bike that I discovered I really was disqualified. I looked down to my ankles to discover that my timing chip was missing. I found out later that the timing band had split apart (velcro still intact!) when I took my wetsuit off after the swim. If I hadn't been too cool to go to the pre-race briefing I would have known I could pick another one up from the bike transition area and still got my name in the results. Anyway, I was generally happy with my race and managed to run quite consistent on the hot, shadeless run course and I placed somewhere in the top 100 overall. Netting the one spot available to my age group for Hawaii qualification was but a tropical dream, but the highlight of my day was yet to come.

I was finally to meet my hero, Dave Scott, 7-time Hawaii Ironman triathlon winner in the 80s and author of "Dave Scott's Triathlon Training". The book, published in 1986, and now falling apart at the seams at home, was my only coach when I started triathlons 16 years ago. Dave was a real friendly guy. Although, while I was slobbering over him telling him how what an inspiration he was, I did suspect he was paying more attention to my wife. Either I was freaking him out or he's a Jessica Simpson fan.