We asked renowned tri statistician Raymond Britt (founder of RunTri.com) to crunch the numbers for us, and his findings reveal that average finish times hit 11:35hrs this year, up from 11:06hrs in 2013 and 11:32hrs in 2012:

The picture was broadly the same across all categories, with only the pro men managing to equal their 2013 average time of 8:50hrs:

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Of the 21 categories racing last Saturday, ten of them came in below the average time of 11:35hrs:

Looking at the average splits across the three disciplines (plus transitions), the biggest increases were on the bike leg:

Average bike splits varied this year from 4:42hrs for the pro men to 7:35hrs for W60-64:

(Main image: Paul Phillips)

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Did you race in Hawaii last weekend? How did you get on? Let us know in the comments!

The event’s 14th edition will take place on 27 February to 1 March 2015 and feature a packed schedule of seminars from expert coaches and leading athletes, alongside an exhibition full of all the latest tri kit. Long-standing show favourites like the 10km run, training sessions and cycle sportives will also make an appearance.

Andy Healy, Show Director, said: “We’re taking full advantage of 220 Triathlon magazine’s 25 years of experience in triathlon and investing that into the 220 Triathlon Show. With brand new features to add to the already full line-up of exhibitors and events over the three days, the show will cover every aspect of triathlon and prove itself number one for gear, training, advice and performance.”

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Tickets will be on sale from November and visitors are encouraged to sign up to the newsletters on the website 220triathlonshow.co.uk in order to be the first to know when tickets are releases and to benefit from special ticket offers.

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Commonly known as the world’s largest triathlon, more than 13,000 athletes of all abilities took part this year, including Olympic swimmer Mark Foster, road cyclist Rob Hayles and TV presenter Jennie Falconer.

Next year’s event will take place on 8/9 August 2015 and offer four race types: Super Sprint, Sprint, Olympic and Olympic Plus, as well as the option to compete as part of a team relay. It will again form part of the British Triathlon Super Series, along with Blenheim Triathlon, Tri Liverpool and Windsor Triathlon (coming into its 25th anniversary).

This year’s elite races were won by Emma Pallant and Mark Buckingham (report here), and you can check out our photo galleries here and here.

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To secure race spot in the capital next year head to www.thelondontriathlon.co.uk.

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I was happy about this conversational diversion because the previous evening, despite having a torn glute, I’d managed to dredge a new PB for my local 10-mile time-trial up from somewhere (22:35mins, in case you’re wondering). The presence of my tormentor meant I had a new audience for the story, having already carped on about it to everyone else I know.

Upon hearing of my achievement he replied: “It’s amazing you’re still setting PBs at your age.” As backhanded compliments go this was worse than being called a Nuneaton beauty queen. But before I had time to join in the witty banter by laughingly smacking him with a right uppercut, he delivered the killer blow: “It just goes to show that getting old need not be a barrier to performance.” That one really stung.

Age-related injuries are all the rage at the moment and my friend Neill Morgan has recently been under the surgeon’s knife to get two new Achilles tendons fitted, which is a bit like putting carbon wheels on a wheelie bin. Meanwhile, my injury has forced me to realise that, unless I can invent a flux capacitor, my best sporting days may soon be behind me. 

This is a difficult notion to comprehend because there are still so many athletic goals I want to achieve, such as covering 100m in under 10secs, which I’ve only managed once before when I fell off the end of Brighton pier on a stag do. 

Even before my injury I was feeling my age due to watching the para-swimming at the Commonwealth Games and realising I was slower over 400m than a man with no arms. But now that my ‘you’re getting on a bit’ injury is making my running so slow that I’m being outpaced by plate tectonics, I’ve started wondering whether I should scrap the Ironmans and start targeting races that reflect my decrepitude.

It was for this reason that I decided to enter the Brompton World Championships, a genteel race for owners of the famous folding bikes who are happy to ride around at the speed of coastal fog and where fashion is prized over form. The race takes place over four laps of Goodwood motor racing circuit (15km) with 600 riders observing a strict dress code of jacket, shirt, tie and the expression of an indignant gecko. I opted for a full tweed suit with waistcoat and a pipe clenched determinedly between my teeth, which may have been a mistake because it was a boiling hot day and even before the start my back was sweatier than Eric Pickles in a cake shop.

I’ve owned a Brompton for about five years after deciding to try and live petrol free. Initially this was a nightmare because it took me ages to push the car to work, so instead I opted for a small-wheeled folding bike guaranteed to make school kids wet themselves laughing at me. This was the first time I’d tried racing anyone on it (unless you count every time I commute through London) and I was surprised how seriously many people were taking the event – there were Lycra shorts, cleats and even the odd aero helmet on show. 

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The race began Le Mans style with a sprint to the bikes, which were then hurriedly unfolded before we surged on to the track. Despite my intention to simply pedal round like a gentleman my inner-triathlete took over about 0.5secs into the race and I instantly started stamping on the pedals as hard as anyone in brogues can. Despite being distinctly under-geared I finished the race in a creditable 27mins, bagging a top-10 finish in the senior citizens (over 40s) category with the added satisfaction of out-sprinting some French arseflute who’d been drafting me for three laps. Clearly continentals are no match for a man powered by fine British tailoring.

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I can honestly say that I haven’t enjoyed a race as much as this one for years, and even though I nearly died of tweed-induced heatstroke I will definitely be on the lookout for more gentlemanly races in the future. Until then, though, it’s back to the physio, who wants to use an ultrasound machine to zap my buttocks with electricity. Although after seeing how much this treatment costs I’ve decided to get the treatment free by mooning at a busload of pensioners and waiting for the police to come and taser me.