A grumpy-faced Vanessa is not an entirely unfamiliar sight. But the image of Mrs W clinging to a speeding missile, helmet perched at a jaunty angle atop her head, might be a new one for some.
And also this.
Yes, as expected, Vanessa destroyed me in the swimming section of yesterday's Skipton Triathlon - in which we had to share a lane - but I eventually hunted her down in the battle of the shop bikes.
Then we took to our beaters for the run to the line, some of us squeezing out every ounce of energy we had left.
But most importantly, the challenge was completed.
Does the fact that my timing chip failed - meaning I didn't register an official time - inevitably lead to us having another go next year?
Oh I don't know. Although I have a fair idea.