I headed off to a party in Reading this weekend and decided to take the bike on the train, with my daughter strapped into her baby seat at the front of the bike, as usual.

The good thing about the trains from Oxford to Reading is that they are regular and quick, and allow you to take your bicycle without booking, as they have those double doors which mean it’s easy to get bikes on board.

I was really surprised to find bikes five thick on the train in each carriage – I couldn’t believe that the train supervisors weren’t blowing steam out of their ears and shouting about health and safety. In fact, they were being exceptionally chilled-out.

The atmosphere was great – although many people looked a bit tired. And no wonder; as it turned out this was triathlon weekend at Blenheim Palace.

Yes, that’s swimming 750m, cycling 20km then running 5km. Any one of those feats of exertion would be enough on its own, but all three? Nuts!

One woman I got chatting to had just done her first triathlon. She’d only really been nervous of the swimming – everyone splashing around in a small space could be a little nerve-wracking, I’d imagine (like being in a bucket of eels). But apparently, apart from nearly getting kicked in the head, this triathlete made it through all okay... and is now keen to do more.

Others on the train were exhausted enough – plenty had dropped-off too.

And, typically, I got to dribble over a couple of really gorgeous bikes on the train, which I’d have loved to have taken for a spin – though perhaps not after an eel-like swim or tiring run.

Who decided to put these three sports together? What kind of person would think it up?

According to Wikipedia, 1920s France saw the first triathlons – then known as “Les Trois sports”.

But the original three-sport event was first staged in 1902 with running, cycling and... canoeing. Hey, I could see that happening here in Oxford.

What about a real challenge of a slalom punt down the Cherwell, weaving in and out of the ducks?

You could follow it with a cycle down to the Isis Tavern for a quick pint, then a run up to the Prince of Wales for another.

If you look at an extreme version of a triathlon – ‘The Iron Man’ (3.8km swim, 180km ride, and a 42.2km run), you have to wonder at what point this would start to cause serious long-term injury or even death.

So as you can imagine, I felt a bit of a lightweight going to Reading purely to negotiate cycling round the ring road to find the right route for the two measly miles to my mate’s party.

But hey, I’m no masochist. I’m just a social cyclist!