It's what legends are made of..

Even at the age of 37.. my dad still comes and watches me do triathlon events. He's been following me since my first event in Pendle, 1990.. I was 17 years of age but nothing much has changed.

Support generally consists of him standing in the spot with best viewpoint and screaming "Goworrrnnnn Cock" as loud as he can everytime he sees me.. whilst this is widely accepted as a term of endearment oop North, it has turned a few heads at races down South and almost resulted in his removal from such events on a few occasions..

He watched me as a youngster chasing the adults and as my years have advanced somewhat, the tables have been turned, the situations are different but the support is generally the same..

He is always at epic events and has now somewhat developed his only celebrity status, by turning up in the famous red micra, with a boot full of cake for weary competitors. He's always ready to greet the finishers with tea, refreshments and a smile..

He is my dad..
The Cakeman..

Like the Lilt man in many ways, but slightly less tropical..

Here endeth theenduranceblog..