Big Interview

From jelly legs to world champion - Don and his sport come of age

Star triathlete Tim Don puts troubled past behind him as he swims, rides and runs towards Beijing
Carl Recine
Tim Don finished 18th in the last two Olympics but is one of the favourites for Beijing. Photograph: Carl Recine/Action Images

Tim Don is pegging it round the Loughborough athletics track in the hot sunshine. Underneath a mop of curls, his forehead glistens with sweat. It is 10.30am, Don has already run approximately 10 kilometres in this, his second training session of the day. There are two more sessions to go. The 2006 world triathlon champion trains four times a day every day, except on Sundays when he has a day off - and only runs twice. 'Jeezy', as Don himself might say.

Triathletes have to be the hardest athletes on the Olympic block. Strength, endurance, speed over an uninterrupted 1500m swim, 40km bike ride and 10km run - it is extremely hard work. Even the sport's terminology leaves you feeling tired: America's most famous triathlon competition is called the 'Ironman', the juniors' schemes are called 'Kids of Steel'. It sounds like some superhuman cartoon show: is it not all a bit macho?

'There's no time for posturing, jeezy!' says Don, as unpretentious as they come, in a southern-hemisphere twang (he spends half the year training in South Africa). 'No one's like that in our sport. Everyone's so friendly, at the start line of a World Cup event we'll be having a joke and a laugh, it's only when the gun goes that it gets serious. You guys might think our sport is hard, but the training energises me, I'd be knackered working in an office until 10 at night staring at a computer.'

Perhaps because it is a relatively young sport, triathlon is often misunderstood. In past years it has been seen as a maverick contender - the inaugural world championships took place in 1989 and the sport made the Olympics only in 2000 - but its image is changing fast. Success for Britain's men and women - Don won the world championship in 2006 and Helen Tucker is the current women's world champion - has propelled triathlon into the spotlight. Sports governing bodies in the UK have recognised the potential and embraced the discipline, last week announcing the target of at least one Olympic medal in Beijing.

'I guess lots of people who don't know triathlon think "jack of all trades, master of none" and they are entitled to their opinion, but I guarantee that if those people spent a week training with us they would change their mind.

'At the Olympic holding camp for Sydney 2000 I remember talking to [runners] James McIlroy and Jason Gardener and they were like, "Bloody hell. We're only having breakfast and you've already swam and then you're going to ride up that hill over there. Fair play to you."'

Don is enthusiastic about the acknowledgement. He loves that outside recognition is allowing the sport to develop and change. 'When I was younger it was all, "What sport do you come from? Are you a swimmer or a runner or a cyclist?" But now we've got a talent ID programme and you've got 12- and 13-year-olds describing themselves as "triathletes". You've got 9,000 taking part in the London Triathlon, the interest is growing, we're getting more media exposure, we're here to stay.'

At 30, and with world championship titles - senior and junior - under his belt, as well as several World Cup wins, Don is tipped for success in Beijing. Having finished 10th in Sydney and 18th in Athens is it a pressure too great? 'No, it's nice to have that expectation, it means people believe in you. Expectation is down to interpretation, some athletes interpret it and shit themselves and it all goes wrong. Maybe I would have if I was 18, but life's a journey and I've experienced so much, winning a world title, fourth at the Commonwealth Games [2006], winning World Cups, losing World Cups. So much can happen and you've just got to take it in your stride.'

Don cites defeat at the junior world championships in 1997 as the defining moment of his career. 'People always think that winning the title in 1998 was the moment for me, but it was the year before when I was so annoyed and frustrated. I had just finished sixth form, I was in good shape and I really wanted to get on the podium, but I didn't finish the race. I had a crash and I thought, "That's it, I'm going to university and giving up." But a good friend of mine, Craig Ball, convinced me to go altitude training in Zimbabwe that winter and the following year I came back and won the junior world title. That was the big turning point and that's why I am here today. You learn more from your mistakes than your success.'

Don grew up in west London, the son of football referee Philip Don, but was never tempted to follow in his father's footsteps. 'When my dad refereed, half the school would hate me come Monday morning. It was not a profession I would ever have considered. I remember the first time I saw my dad do a match, and everyone was singing about "the man in the black". "Grandad," I said, "what's a wanker?"'

At 15, Tim Don was already a triathlon convert. There was a triathlon clique in the area where he grew up - 'there must have been something in the water' - with triathletes Stuart Hayes, Richard Stannard and Spencer Smith all locals. The sport seemed a natural choice; an intoxicating blend of swimming, cycling and running.

One of the hardest aspects of the sport is the so-called 'fourth discipline', the skill of transferring from one event to another. The body is forced to adapt instantly to exercising different muscles; the basic premise of going from horizontal (swimming) to vertical (cycling), all the blood and muscles are working in your upper body and then you've got to jump up and sprint to your bike.

'The first time you do it you get the jelly legs. But it's not just about physicality. You need to be switched on mentally because there are 80 bikes, you need to find yours, and then it's helmet on, wetsuit off, cycling shoes on, jump on your bike and away. If you have a bad transition - say someone knocks your helmet on the floor and you miss the lead group you're behind - then once the peloton is gone, it's very hard to catch them.'

As we sit and chat in the sunshine, overlooking the track, a giant bumblebee lands on Don's head. This is perplexing: given all the random injuries that have set him back in previous years - a broken nose from walking into a glass door, a broken rib while strolling to a coffee shop, an accident after being chased by dogs - might an allergic reaction to a bee sting jeopardise his Olympic dreams? When I mention it Don leaps up to send the bee packing. 'Knowing my bloody luck I probably am allergic,' he says.

Down on the track the former world champion hurdler Jana Pittman has stormed off in the middle of a frustrating session. Everyone turns to look. Don smiles. 'Yeah, she had a bit of a strop, but that's training. People don't see that side of things, they just see her winning, but it's hard, it really is, every day you've got to perform.'

Does Don, who seems so perennially unruffled, ever lose it? His free and easy giggle settles the question. But how about when, in 2006, shortly after becoming world champion, he was suspended for three missed drugs tests: surely those were dark days?

'Trust me, I was very upset at the time,' he says. 'Now everyone knows so much more about it with it happening to Christine [Ohuruogu] and me and [judo's] Peter Cousins, but it was a very new system at the time.

'The news was like a hammer blow to me, at first it didn't even sink in. I couldn't get my head around the seriousness of the situation, I was like "Oh, right, OK", but I was watching a track event and it overran. I wanted to watch my friend run so I got home at 10.15 not 10pm, that's all that happened. Or, shit, you've missed your train and you're going to be late, or you're on an aeroplane going to a national training camp for the Commonwealth Games. It was frustrating, but those were the rules - we didn't know them as well as we should have, and maybe they were not explained as well as they should have been - but we've learned and trust me I'm on zero missed tests at the moment. I never thought about giving up, it was just something I had to get through. With the juniors now I'm like a broken record, reminding them about it. I can't change the past. I can only look forward and make sure it doesn't happen again to me or to anyone else.'

Talking about missed drugs tests makes Don's manager look twitchy. It must be frustrating to be a world-class athlete, eternally discussing an administrative error that potentially threatened your reputation. But Don does not seem bothered. He is too busy enjoying life as a triathlete, 'living the dream' as he calls it, 'following the sun'. As the storm clouds gather over the track, Don cheerily clamps his cap back on and bounds off for the photographer to take his picture. 'Jeezy,' he says again, before jogging happily down the steps and into the breeze.

Tim Don is an ambassador for EAS sports nutrition

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