Being in it for the long game

Let’s start with the big news. This year, I will be racing a full Ironman – my first in nine years. Yep, after a long period of focusing on Ironman 70.3, it’s back to the long game.

A lot has changed since pre-2020 though, when I was racing five to six times a year and close to training full-time. Over the past few years, my work life has really taken precedence over training, and I have more professional responsibility than ever before. It certainly makes for a challenging training programme – really it’s a case of managing the rising stress and pressure as best I can (often failing at times!).

As a Whoop user, I’ve been measuring HRV and all the other performance-related metrics for two years now, but with long work days, juggling multiple clients, managing employees, and fitting in double training days, it is tough to keep physiological and mental stress at a minimum. With HRV being the most accurate measure of how recovered we are, it’s also the primary marker for physiological health and wellbeing, so it’s definitely something I keep a close eye on these days with such a hectic lifestyle.

Recently, I was introduced to the Apollo wearable – a nifty device which works by providing gentle vibrations through haptics technology. It has shown to increase HRV by 11%, improve focus and concentration by up to 25%, increase time in deep sleep by 19%, and reduce stress and anxiety by up to 40% – so some pretty impressive statistics all round.

Developed by a neuroscientist and board-certified psychiatrist who has been studying the impacts of chronic stress in humans for nearly 15 years, Apollo’s effects have been proven in multiple clinical trials and real-world studies. Essentially, the Apollo wearable strengthens and rebalances your autonomic nervous system and improves your HRV – which means you’re building your resilience to stress and as such, spend less time in ‘fight-or-flight’ mode and more time in ‘rest and digest’.

It couldn’t really have come at a better time, as I have been finding that due to my lifestyle, my HRV can be quite low sometimes, I often feel run down, and my sleep has been quite compromised by both physical and mental stress that I am exposed to throughout the day. There’s also accumulative stress caused by lack of sufficient recovery and downtime – when your weekdays are full gas with training and work and weekends are much the same, it doesn’t allow for much time to mentally or physically switch off.

With different modes to choose from through the accompanying app, the device is designed to be placed close to a bone (I wear it on the inside of my wrist) and used for a few hours each day. There is no need to wear it all the time – I tend to put it on while I’m sat at my desk working, commuting or travelling (I find it oddly reassuring), and those (rather rare!) moments where I am sat down relaxing in front of the TV or reading a book before bed.

I started wearing the device in mid-January so have had a good month to test it out, and I have to say the results are impressive. Natural fluctuations in HRV are, of course, normal and very much depend on life stressors such as training volume and intensity, professional and emotional workload, travel, and of course, sickness.

I have to say I have become a little addicted to the Apollo! I lean into it when I am feeling in need of some recuperation, I find it soothing to experience the gentle vibrations (the science around touch therapy and its capacity to improve physical and mental health is 100% validated).

I have definitely seen some improvements in my HRV although I may need longer to test the device to get a full picture, as HRV can be affected by so many variables. More notably though, my deep sleep (characterised as SWS or slow wave sleep in my Whoop feedback) has improved quite considerably.  SWS is when cells are regenerated, so is particularly important for athletic (and mental) performance.

At this stage, with the demands of training and work, keeping my HRV as high as possible is pretty critical to success – not to mention sleep quality. Trying to sustain 15-hour training weeks and some 12-hour work days is pretty intense!

As I head into this next big block of training towards Ironman Texas, I will continue using the Apollo as part of my daily recovery routine – having already seen the positive benefits and the research studies validating the technology, it’s a no-brainer really.

If you want to try it, use my code AMY40 for $40 off at checkout!

#ApolloNeuro #JourneywithApollo

https://actv.at/27jb/108176

February 14, 2023

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A comeback or a reality check?

A substantial period of time has elapsed since I last wrote a blog. There was this thing that gripped the whole world, you see, and  suddenly triathlon wasn’t the most important thing in our lives anymore…!

In all seriousness, the year(s) we lost to Covid, coupled with a monumental increase in my professional workload, kind of put triathlon – and blog writing – on the backburner for a bit.

Do people even read blogs anymore? Is this is a bit early 2000s era? Should this be a YouTube video instead? Well, you’ve made it this far…. Let’s crack on!

Probably not an unfamiliar sensation for some of you, but at the start of 2022, I wasn’t feeling triathlon. Sacrilege, of course, given that I was on the road to turning pro at the end of 2019…. But I got kind of busy. Really busy, in fact – professionally, I had (and still have) more responsibility and workload than ever before. As I am a freelance/contractor, I take it when I can get it. And there just so happens to be a lot of it. A good thing, I’m sure you’ll agree. 

But with long working long days and pressure mounting, my head was in a place where I couldn’t really cope with the additional pressure from racing. Or even training, for that matter! The thought of 5 hours on Zoom, 11 hour work days, and then trying to hit certain power on the turbo or fit in double training session days? No thanks.

Moreover, I was STILL struggling with biomechanical issues, couldn’t run much – certainly no high intensity – and basically I felt out of shape. Ever feared going back to something knowing you’ll be less good at it? Yeah, that. 

So, I randomly and spontaneously took up gravel cycling, mountain biking, and climbed a few mountains again. It was awesome. I was still keeping pretty active – doing something every day, if not twice a day (once a triathlete, always a triathlete!) but I had no structured plan and certainly no structured sessions. I just bumbled around having active adventures, doing whatever I felt like. Kind of like an 8-month off-season, haha!

In March, I made the decision not to race the Ironman 70.3 World Championship. A few friends tried to convince me to race anyway, but I flatly refused. I didn’t want the pressure of training (hell I didn’t even WANT to train, not in that way anyway), and I certainly didn’t want to turn up and just hate it and be completely crap. This was the right decision. No triathlons. 

I was relishing the low-pressure environment of gravel events – you rock up, no-one cares when you start, or when you finish, you can lie around at aid stations, drink beer at the finish (no medal or swag), and they don’t even record finishing places. Bliss. 

This was exactly what I needed. Maybe triathlon was over for me. Maybe even forever. Maybe I’d achieved everything I needed to, or was going to.

Until… I distinctly recall driving back from the lake one sunny summer morning in August, and messaging a friend. 

“I think I miss triathlon”.

He replied with the very appropriate “Do you miss training, or racing?”. I think it was a bit of both, but mainly the racing, because I was still doing a fair bit of (I use the term loosely here) ‘training’.

I shrugged it off in a moment of madness and went out on my gravel bike to work out how to do those little rear wheel flicks over stones. This was about the extent of my goals at this stage! 

In late August, on (yet) another client Zoom call, my startup company, Body Rocket, said they planned to be in St George, Utah for the Ironman 70.3 World Championship.   

Curveball.

My mind was reeling. It would KILL me to be there, knowing I had a spot, and watch everyone else race while I stood on by. It couldn’t happen.

Right, so that means 10 weeks of panic training then…

I got a coach on the basis of “how fit can you get me in 10 weeks” (no pressure then!). I hadn’t worked with a coach since early 2021, and certainly hadn’t done any structured training for 8 months. I was fit, but I was long way away from RACE fit. That’s a whole different level.

I had actually started to miss the buzz of triathlon. The immersion that comes with mentally, physically  and emotionally applying yourself day in day out – before you even get to race day. 

The nerves, the apprehension, the excitement, the loudspeaker on race morning, the smell of neoprene, the gentle hum of athletes prepping in transition in the dark, the rollercoaster of emotion during the race, the strategic fuelling (“when is it time for my next gel”), the glance across at other competitor bib numbers to work out if they’re in your age group, those first few strides out of T2 when you know if you’re going to have a good run or not, the soft and quiet tap tapping of runners on a quiet part of the run course, the chaos at aid stations, the spectators cheering you on at the last corner, the red carpet, your name being called as you go over the line, the camaraderie, the emotion, elation, fulfilment when you finish…. 

You don’t get this in many other sports. 

So, I started an 8-week training block to get me to the start line – with the primary objective of not feeling utterly rubbish and suffering throughout the whole thing. I certainly wasn’t aiming high (no podium hopes here!), but the main objective for me was to enjoy it. As cliched as that sounds, it’s what I needed. For the reason that, deep down, I knew if I wanted to reignite my love for triathlon, I had to have an enjoyable race. And it wasn’t going to be enjoyable if I attached performance to the outcome.

Having said that, I trained pretty hard. I was juggling some high work pressure with 15 hour training weeks, and my sessions were pretty solid. I rarely failed on any of them – in fact, it seemed I hadn’t lost an awful lot. Sure, there was some sharpness lacking, but on the whole I felt pretty good about heading out there.

Race week, unsurprisingly, seemed to come around rapidly. I was out in Utah working, so it was an unusual lead-in to the race. Every day, I saw all the other athletes busy doing course recces, final race prep sessions, and getting their feet up, carb loading, and thinking through all their race tactics and kit choices. I was far too busy for all that! I was out with my team doing aerodynamic testing on the bike all day. I couldn’t even complete my planned taper sessions let alone any course recces. I was going into it completely blind. I was on my feet a lot. I was eating badly. It was all ok though – this was for enjoyment, after all!

On race morning, the air temperature was 3 degrees which caused a great deal of panic across the women’s field. I for one, KNOWN for not racing in the UK because of the shocking weather, was unimpressed at best. I shotgun purchased a fluffy jumper and fleecey jogging bottoms from Walmart to wear on race morning before the swim, and taped up the vents in my cycling shoes. It’s all about innovation! I planned to wear arm warmers and a lightweight jacket, while trying not to chuck myself in front of an oncoming truck to escape the hell of the freezing cold.

I caught the shuttle bus to Sand Hollows reservoir for the swim start at 5.30am, feeling weirdly numb. I wasn’t excited, I wasn’t nervous. I felt nothing at all. I almost craved an adrenaline rush – where was it!? A bit of dance music and jumping around on the start line helped a bit (nothing like 3,000 whooping girls is there), but it was still way off my usual pre-race jitters.

Let’s not talk about swimming! So my swimming was very limited this year – I knew I wouldn’t be breaking records. Basically, I put minimal effort in to save myself for the bike and run. Enough to keep warm and vaguely move in a forward direction – this was pretty much reflected in my split time… 

Having not raced a single triathlon for a whole year, it was almost like I was a little afraid of going too hard. I wanted more than anything to feel good, strong, and enjoy the whole day. I was holding back but, and I probably shouldn’t admit this, but a small part of me also couldn’t really be bothered to push. I didn’t feel like I had anything to prove and wasn’t really bothered about my time or placing.

After a fairly (very) slow swim, I exited the water into the frozen wild and layered up ready for the Arctic bike mission. The first 20-30 minutes of the bike was, with no embellishment, absolutely horrendous. Probably like everyone else at this point, I was severely questioning my life choices and desperately trying to conjure up images of lying on a tropical beach somewhere. 

Looking at my power, I kind of scoffed at the target and decided I wasn’t going to try and stick to it. Plan B – race in comfort zone! I really wanted to feel comfortable – knowing there was a fair bit of climbing ahead of me, plus the longest run I’d have done all year, I decided to race ‘within myself’. I settled into what was essentially a nice Sunday ride, with better views.

It was obviously a bit too comfortable, because I was actually enjoying it. I got to halfway and felt a little pang of remorse that there was only 45k of cycling left! You what!?  I was soaking up the scenery, pushing a little harder on the climbs (thanks off-road cycling), cruising the flats, and getting as aero as possible on the downhills. The time (and kilometers) flew by.

Before I knew it I was flying into T2 with exactly the same bike split that my coach had predicted – it was just 15 watts lower than our plan! But I couldn’t care less.

I set out on the run feeling strong and comfortable, and wanted to keep it that way. The course was hilly, with essentially the first 5k completely uphill. My feet were still numb and only started to regain feeling at around 5km, by which point my lungs began to hurt – even at Sunday run pace! I was quite worried about pushing it at all on the run because my lungs felt raw – I’m not even going to blame Covid at this point, I’m not sure what caused it, but I definitely didn’t feel right.

So, once again, I raced within myself. My stomach surprisingly was coping extremely well with the gels – I had barely practised using them in training – although in fairness, I probably wasn’t pushing myself hard enough and could have had a whole pizza in T2 and still felt fine. Better still though, after 18 months of only easy running, no speed sessions at all, and ongoing management of the niggles I had been experiencing in my right leg, I felt completely fine on the run. There wasn’t even a hint of pain – this was a win in itself!

Just like the bike, the run seemed to go quite quickly thanks to some support from the lads out there; I was enjoying the process and racing comfortably within myself. Then, I was rounding that last corner, soaring past the cheering crowds and heading towards that familiar mahogany-rich voice of Paul Kaye on the loudspeaker. I have to confess, running down that finish carpet felt incredible. I was glowing. I was back.

I finished in 5:26 – certainly not a fast time for me but definitely one I was happy with, considering I had only done 8 weeks of structured training and it was essentially a work trip for me with a bonus race at the end (and a lot of pre-race cookies!).

But really, who cares about results and times and placings. Unless you’re a professional athlete, we are doing this for fun. It’s supposed to be for enjoyment. It had been a long time since the only planned outcome was enjoyment, and for me, this was a win in and unto itself.

Now, while I’ve talked about not caring about performance, I’m going to flip-reverse it a bit. Truthfully, it was encouraging to know I am capable of much more. Although I knew that in a way, it was consolidated by having cruised through the race comfortably and my body feeling fine/no soreness or niggles in the days post-race. Of course I know I could have pushed harder, but I don’t regret not pushing harder – I didn’t need to. 

I needed to get there within the context of a pretty stressful and busy year, and I needed to not spend the day feeling frustrated or upset that I couldn’t hit an arbitrary number. I didn’t care about numbers. I wanted to race by feel. I wanted to experience that addictive rush of achievement, the glow that courses through your veins after crossing the finish line, that deep craving in the bottom of your belly when you want more. I had missed all of that – and now it was back. The spark is reignited…

November 3, 2022

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Does change cultivate introspection?

It may sound obvious, but the challenges that are presented to (or sought out by) us throughout the course of our lives, usually catalyse some degree of change. This change is often (but not always), characterised by personal growth in one way or another.

Think about it. The first time you did an Ironman, got a major job promotion, or had a baby? There’s some serious personal growth at play and we’re not always truly aware of it.

At the risk of sounding clichéd, the COVID-19 situation has brought about a lot of change in – I’d go as far as saying – the majority of people. I’m not just referring to change in our daily lives, either, (we all know you’ve been drinking more alcohol and baking more cakes since lockdown); I’m pointing to something on a deeper level.

I think many of us have learned to slow down. We have learned to find sources of entertainment in the minutiae of life, in the absence of external stimulation. We have learned to truly bond with our children. We have learned to indulge in other, different things. We have learned that those human connections we were lacking are desperately valuable to us. We have learned to appreciate nature. We have learned a little more about what we really want from life – what makes us happy. And probably a lot more that I haven’t mentioned – both positive and negative learnings.

More importantly, though, we have learned to look a bit more inwardly. And I’d argue that this stimulates personal growth – something that some people pay thousands of pounds and often a lifetime to recognise. We’ve been forced into an uncontrollable situation and sure, it’s been goddamn tough at times. But genuinely, I think there are going to be a lot of positive outcomes as a result of this opportunity for introspection, if we allow time to acknowledge it.

From a personal point of view, the situation definitely catalysed introspection for me. It made me question a lot of things, challenge some very long-standing views that I had cemented into my belief system, and look more inwardly for a source of happiness that wasn’t my usual ‘go-to’ probing for external stimuli.

In short, was it really something “out there” that would define true happiness for me? Or was it really “in here”? I don’t think, amidst the ‘busy-ness’ of our lives, we really allow much, if any, time or capacity to think about these things; or certainly at any level of depth. The famous ‘lockdown’, which will spatter across history books for decades to come, has helped to cultivate this.

Just to make this clear – in the interests of political correctness and moral equilibrium – I am in no way dismissing the harrowing consequences of COVID-19 and the many, many people who lost their lives – or members of their family, or even those who have lost their jobs. I am merely highlighting that for many, there are some shards of awareness which might be worthwhile grasping, because this ‘opportunity’ for introspection is so utterly rare.

What has this got to do with triathlon? Everything. And nothing. I took a massive change of direction in my life during this period, where, in personal relationship terms, I was heading towards what I thought was the right thing. Until I realised that it wasn’t. At all. I’m not sure this realisation would have even occurred had the world not come to a standstill and I, along with everyone else in the world, was suddenly confronted with my own reality.

It made me think a lot (about a great deal of things), but about why I got into triathlon in the first place. Why I climb mountains. Why I travel all over the world, living an experience-rich and dynamic life as possible. And it all comes down to the same thing – the very same thing that, ironically, Coronavirus brought upon so many of us in a weird and twisted way. Personal growth.

Pushing your mind, your body; breaching all those physical and mental limits you set yourself; trying to better each performance – not for anyone else but for your own sense of fulfilment; investing energy, emotion, passion; making sacrifices; feeling the sense of achievement not just inside yourself but through those people who have supported you along the way – if triathlon isn’t a catalyst for personal growth, I don’t know what is.

Sure, there are other things out there which serve the same or a similar purpose. But think about it – many of us are still doing what we love despite the fact that there may be no races. Why? Because we get all of the above from the day-in, day-out grind of training. That challenge, each and every day in itself, is what keeps us feeling alive.

This crazy period of time has brought with it so much negativity. But if you start to feel around at who you’ve become or might become out the other side, I think you’ll be looking inwardly with soft almost-smugness at the personal growth you’ll have cultivated. And that really is something. Because when normal life resumes, whether it’s your professional career, personal relationships, or your next triathlon race, you’re going to carry all those skills you’ve developed through – resilience, self-awareness, tolerance, or the strength of mind to know what you really want. Embrace it.

July 13, 2020

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Preparation is everything

I think it’s fair to say that at some point or another, everyone has struggled with this unexpected COVID-19 crisis. Mentally, physically, emotionally, professionally, financially – we are being challenged from every angle, and it’s not exactly an easy ride for anyone.

I’m not going to labour the Coronavirus point for too long as we all know what the situation is, I’m just going to give you an insight into how I reacted (and am continuing to react) to it.

When it first started kicking off, I was fresh (or not so!) off the back of a big training camp in Fuerteventura. In fact I was at the airport and they were turning off lights and closing down all the restaurants, shops and cafes right before our scheduled flight departure. I knew at that point that this was going to get very serious.

Once home, I felt a bit like a walking zombie. I was on a recovery week, I barely communicated with my coach, and as the scale of the Coroanvirus started to unfold globally, I lost a fair bit of motivation. As we began to pick up the training again, I was very much instilled with a sense of “what’s the point”, knowing my races would be cancelled for probably the entire first half of the season, at minimum.

I felt like I just wanted to take a step back, ‘tick over’, have a bit of fun, and completely eliminate the pressure of training. I bought a second hand mountain bike, wanting to mix things up a bit, and I went a little too far on the indulgence scale when it came to food. On the plus side, my baking was on point (I was part of the reason flour was sold out everywhere!).

was spending a lot of time trying to figure out in my head what was the right thing to do. Do I step back during this uncertain time and just enjoy life, stay healthy, and keep moderately fit with some maintenance training? Or should I be pushing, coming out of this the other side as a better athlete, using the opportunity of more free time to make gains?

I can’t say I have arrived at a definitive answer to this, but after a few weeks of thought juggling, conversations with my coach, friends and family, I kind of stabilised my mental approach to it all.

I also listened to a very interesting podcast during a long run, which sparked a renewed sense of hope, inspiration, and positivity.

When Nelson Mandela was released from imprisonment, one of the most pertinent questions he was asked was: “How did you survive?”. His response, to paraphrase as I don’t know the exact words verbatim, was something along the lines of: “I wasn’t surviving. I was preparing.”

In this crazy COVID-19 world we are living in right now, it’s easy for us to switch on our innate ‘survival mode’ mentality – everything is uncertain. Literally everything. So we revert to instinctual survival mechanisms as a way to cope, and increasingly, I am growing averse to this kind of terminology.

Surviving? Coping? No, I am preparing.

I think we should come out of this period of time – which will go down in history – and look back at it with fondness. We should make the most of opportunities we have – and may never have again. We should develop skills or attributes that are going to help us later on – in life, in sport, in work – whatever. We should improve mental resilience, because this is the cornerstone of everything.

No-one can predict when racing will happen again, and event companies might be rescheduling for later in the year but they have profit margins to hit, sponsors to appease, and want to offer hope (not refunds) to their participants.

Given that race season is a total unknown, it’s not necessarily a green light to go out and completely hammer yourself in training, but we are adopting a very strategic approach to the ‘new normal’. This involves a lot of strength and conditioning work to ‘prepare’ the body. It involves a fair bit of low intensity training to ‘prepare’ the aerobic base, and the mindset, so we don’t get too physically or mentally burned out from the training regimen. It also involves some harder, above threshold work to ‘prepare’ physiologically for the next level of training, when things need to ramp up again. There’s also some added fun, such as virtual racing on Zwift or chasing Strava segments, to ‘prepare’ for racing again in the future.

You see the theme here? It is possible to make considered progression, even during a time like this.

Most importantly, the mindset needs to be right. Staying positive, focusing on what you can do, not on what you can’t, and using your time wisely to improve in anything you want to improve in. It’s not coping, it’s not survival, it’s preparation. And as we know, preparation is everything.

April 21, 2020

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Maybe, just maybe, the best day of my life…?

It’s funny, when people asked me what my A-race of the year was and I responded with Ironman 70.3 Buenos Aires, there was an element of surprise in their response. “What, you mean it’s not the 70.3 World Championship in Nice?”. Well, not exactly true as that was a ‘sort of semi A race’ but my main A race was always the 70.3 South American Championship in November. Why? Because I was going there with the intention to win my age group.

With a season that had already surpassed expectation, I could quite happily have left it there and put a big green tick next to 2019. But we had one more race to deliver, and not only deliver, but peak for.

All the numbers on Training Peaks were pointing towards a fitness peak. All my training sessions in the last few weeks leading into Buenos Aires were pointing towards me peaking. This was extremely encouraging; I was in the shape of my life – just as long as I didn’t get ill! I felt weirdly confident, I knew there was nothing to do but to just go out and deliver what I needed to, what I was more than capable of, and the result would just come.

But as I neared the race, I wasn’t even focused on the result anymore. It was almost like the result was irrelevant at this time, because I just needed to stick to the plan and what would be would be. Or, as my coach Duncan said to me on race morning, “Follow the process and it will come to you. Let it just come to you, you’ve got this.” I felt zero pressure.

In fact, in the few days before the race, I just walked around in a bit of a daze, feeling almost numb. I was asked if I was excited. “No.” I was asked if I was nervous. “No.” I felt nothing. Absolutely nothing. I felt no pressure whatsoever, and actually, it was a bit disconcerting. “Shouldn’t I care more!? This is supposed to be the most important race of the year!”. Duncan kept telling me this was absolutely perfect, the ideal state to be in, but it felt a bit weird to me, I felt like I should be feeling something other than total blankness…

Race morning arrived and the weather was perfect. The lake was still, the wind was light, the sun was shining, not a cloud in the sky, and I went through the race morning transition process like some sort of robot, still totally neutral and relaxed.

The only point at which I felt some emotion was as I moved down towards the swim start, ready to go, and had a final pep talk from Duncan. As he talked, and told me I had everything I needed to make this happen, with no pressure, because it’s going to just come to me, I felt myself well up. What the…!? No idea why, or where that came from, but I nodded, we had a quick hug, and off I went.

Where the hell were my nerves? Or excitement? Had I run out of adrenaline or something!?

The rolling start was relaxed and I was soon off, settling into my stride, feeling super calm and relaxed. The swim was pleasant and non-eventful; other than being kicked hard in the chest at the first turn buoy. I felt like I was swimming relatively strongly but felt comfortable with it. Ideal, I think.

It went quickly and despite not being able to see my hand in front of my face due to muddy-ish dirty lake water (trying valiantly not to swallow any!), I exited the swim and glanced at my watch. 31 minutes something, jeez that’s pretty good for me, a few minutes up on where I had anticipated – so far so good!

The wetsuit strippers surrounded me and I was de-wetsuited rather style-lessly – i.e, lying on my back on the ground with my legs in the air! Helpful though, can’t we have these at every race!?

With boxes and kit by our bikes in transition, in typical American style racing, the lack of transition bags makes for a fast T1 and I was out on the bike pretty swiftly.

On the bike, my focus was on keeping my position as aero as possible, tucking my head low and holding the power. I settled in quickly and felt strong. Knowing this was a fast bike course, I was about 5 watts over the plan but felt comfortable – my aim was to hold it throughout.

The two-loop bike course meant that you have a pretty good idea of your predicted bike split by the end of lap one. The problem was, by lap two, there were more athletes (and slower ones) out on the course which means there was more dodging to be done, and trying to avoid any inadvertent drafting. By the end of the first lap not a single female had over-taken me, and in fact, barely any men had over-taken me. I knew I was riding well, I just needed to be able to hold this for the second lap and not over-cook it for the run!

I think I was still in some weird zombie state as I recall thinking, and telling myself, in the last 10-20k of the bike course that “I need to wake up ready to run.” How. Weird. Is. That.  It was a very odd sensation as I knew I was on for a PB bike split and top power for any race I had done. But I felt comfortable; just really zoned out, almost a bit sleepy. Is this what they call “the zone”!?

As I hit T2 with a 2:26 bike split (PB), I didn’t feel excited that I had just achieved that, I just did my thing in transition (where there were very few bikes), and started running. It was the most emotionless race I had ever taken part in so far. What the hell was up with me!? Not complaining, it just all felt a bit weird.

I concentrated hard on my run form as I started the 21k run, knowing this would be absolutely key for our ambitious run split target. I knew exactly what pace I was supposed to be running at and initially, I felt AMAZING. I was running faster than the projections. If I can hold this, I’d literally have the race of my life. COME ON!

Running past Duncan in the first kilometre confirmed it – he shouted that I looked amazing, but it was short-lived. As a long out and back course, I knew that after seeing Duncan I’d be on my own until the finish line. That was a lot of concentration on holding form without having someone to shout at me, without that little buzz you get every time you run past your friends and family, and in fact, without any crowd support whatsoever. It was like a ghost town out there. Mentally, that was tough to accept but it is what it is and you have to just get on with it.

Keep. Ticking. Off. Those. Kilometers.

At the turnaround point my pace slipped. I was now running into a bit of a headwind, and the most excruciating thing on my entire body was just solely the blisters on my little toes. Seriously. If I didn’t have such sore feet I reckon I’d be able to hold this pace. Everything else felt ok, I felt ok. I was fuelling well, body was feeling strong. But my goddamn feet were unbelievably sore!

This, unfortunately, meant that my form slipped as it was hurting too much to run ‘on my toes’. Pace slipped, I was swearing at myself in my head. A lot.

Just before the turnaround, I saw the first female age grouper – annoyingly for me, she was ahead of me. I had seen no females apart from pros so I knew I was having a good race. But this girl, looking fast in an ITU-style swimsuit-esque race suit, was ahead of me. All I could do was just keep holding on to my pace as much as I physically could, I knew she was ahead of me and there was nothing more I could do about it, I couldn’t even see her.

In the last couple of kilometres I decided enough was enough and that I needed to block out the pain in my feet. My pace quickened and I was back to just a fraction below my target race pace. KEEP. GOING. I was reassuring myself that I had less then 20 minutes left of my WHOLE SEASON. Knowing I had a big break coming up was really motivating to get me through – “it’s 20 minutes of my life!”.  “It’s now just 10 minutes of my life!.”

The last kilometre was tough mentally, as I pushed hard (cue more swearing at myself), and as I rounded the very last corner before the finish chute I saw “the girl” ahead of me! Wow. I thought she’d be much further ahead! JESUS! I sprinted as hard as I could (which was very far away from a sprint but let’s just gloss over that) and didn’t catch her in time. I was about 20 seconds down, I think.

I crossed the finish line with a PB run of 1:31 and an overall Ironman 70.3 PB of 4:34. I collapsed on the ground before being asked by an official if I was ok. I stood up and was promptly accosted by a guy with a clipboard who was asking me to sign a form – anti-doping control. Wow, they really don’t hang about.

I went to the athlete exit area to find my boyfriend and Duncan, and was promptly informed that I had won my age group – and better still, ALL AGE GROUPS. I was the first amateur female over the line. The girl in front of me that I had been semi-chasing was an ITU athlete stepping up to 70.3 distance. I’d beaten her by 3 minutes on the bike so I was chasing for nothing.

I could. Not. Believe it.

Overall age group champion? This couldn’t be happening….

I stood there absolutely crying my eyes out. There it was. The emotion that had been suppressed for days. Coming out, all in one go. I was sobbing uncontrollably. It was a strange mixture of happiness at my result, and utter relief that this was the end of my season. And what a bloody season it has been.

Anti-doping guy with clipboard was standing a few feet away probably thinking I was a total nutcase. He then said in broken English with a few hand gestures that we would test when “tranquil”. I was not tranquil, not anymore, I was a mess, a thesaurus of mixed emotions.

We walked over to the anti-doping control and I sat on a plastic chair wiping away the last tears, and I could not help but marvel at the surreal situation I suddenly found myself in. I was in a tent with all the female pros – the winner, Chelsea Sodaro, last year’s winner, Pâmella Oliveira (who I was only 17 minutes behind), and all the women I looked up to with admiration and respect. This was so weird. There were no other age groupers, I couldn’t believe this was happening – although it was an absolute faff, I felt absolutely honoured that I was there, being tested. It was testament to my performance, a true compliment.

The testing process was bizarre. I had absolutely no idea what I was doing, and stupidly, I was shocked when an official had to watch me wee into a cup. I guess I’d never really thought about it before! I’d certainly never had to. The process was surprisingly rigid, it took about an hour and every single effort was made to ensure there was no contamination – it was impressively thorough.

Finally I was through and I burst into tears again when I saw Duncan. The pride on his face told me everything. This was the epitome of teamwork. We had done it, and I was on cloud nine.

Later on, as I stood on the podium with my trophy, and accepted my slot for the Ironman 70.3 World Championship in New Zealand for 2020, I couldn’t be more proud of what I had achieved. This was a dream come true – I had worked for seven years to get to this moment.

I had set out and achieved what I wanted to achieve, it was perfect. In fact, so perfect, that I think it was quite easily the best day of my life.

To all the people and brands who supported me in the early days and are still there now, I am honoured, humbled, and no words of appreciation can quite express how I feel. But just know, that although it’s taken many, many years to get to this point, this is the start of something very exciting, and I cannot wait to see where it goes….


With thanks to:

SISU Racing
Ceepo bikes
iRide
Energy Snacks
RaceSkin
Ffwd Wheels
OTEC bikes
Active Edge
Zone3
CocoPro

Aminoman
Xendurance
Sundried
Total Balance Clinic
The Human Body Project
Coach Raisie

November 11, 2019

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Not your average training day

Anyone who is reading this knows I am a big fan of training camps! So when my coach Duncan (SISU Racing) mentioned he was going to be out in Lanzarote in October I thought it would be a good opportunity to throw in a big training week in preparation for my final (A race) of the year.

The camp was planned for some time but around 6 weeks before I was due to head out, my friend asked why I wasn’t racing the Ironman 70.3 out there. I didn’t really have a legitimate answer but assumed it would be one race too many, and a bit ambitious sticking one in between the 70.3 World Championship and my final race of the season.

I turned up at the track with Duncan one day and told him that my friend had asked why I wasn’t racing the 70.3. I was expecting the usual bullish response from him (or being completely ignored, which also happens when I ask stupid questions!), but instead, he said “You can do it if you want.”

WHAT!? Another race? Which I’m ALLOWED to do!? He’d been holding me back all season – trying to reign me in from my propensity to enter anything and everything I like the look of. What can I say, I love racing! But this was an unexpected bonus. I didn’t need to be told twice!

Primarily, it was always going to be about the camp. We were going to get big volume and some high intensity stuff in with the race tacked onto the end. In fact, Duncan told me it would be my “brick session for the week.” Beats doing it on the turbo, that’s for sure!

I’d had a pretty big week leading into the camp anyway, with no rest day, so literally two days after I arrived I was already knackered. Duncan met me at my hotel and I was struggling to even hold a proper conversation after a big run day, but we knew it was a case of pushing through and monitoring things for the next few days.

It was a relatively big week but we didn’t go mental – I think I clocked up about 300k of cycling (and that’s Lanzarote cycling, which is always tough!) and about 50k of running (including three track sessions) – plus the usual swim volume when you have the benefit of a 50m outdoor pool. My legs were definitely feeling it but I was putting out some really strong sessions as the week progressed, which was boding well for the race.

I joined the Swim for Tri camp one morning for a swim ‘race’ in the lagoon at Club La Santa – it was a 1.6k course and I was pleased to be out the water 5 minutes before the chase pack came out! I’m by no means an incredible swimmer (far from), but things were feeling pretty smooth so I was pleased with my effort.

Two days before the race we massively scaled back with just some activation sessions – and while I knew this would serve to freshen me up a bit, a two-day taper after a 28 hour training week wasn’t going to make miracles happen!

Before I knew it, it was pre-race day and as I went to rack my bike they announced that the swim was cancelled – the Spanish authorities had prohibited the swim due to currents that were due to hit the coast on race morning. Annoyingly the sea looked crystal clear and flat but the winds were pretty mental, apparently it was the tail end of a hurricane that had swept through the Atlantic earlier in the week. I wasn’t too bothered as I didn’t think it would make much difference to my overall time and anyway – this truly would be my brick session for the week (plus I’d already done my swim race a few days earlier!).

The thing that was worrying me the most was the wind. Which sounds ridiculous given that I have trained on Lanzarote usually twice a year for the past 8 years. But this was unreal, it was making my whole car shake it was so strong and I was concerned with the wide frame on my ‘aerodynamic’ bike. I memorised the course and from years spent cycling on the island knew every stretch of road that would be a cross wind. I’d just have to crack on, everyone was in the same boat after all.

Race morning felt a bit odd – for me it was only ever a training day so zero pressure, but then with the swim cancelled too it just felt super casual. I couldn’t feel more relaxed, I felt like I was just heading out for a training ride and run! It was nice having the other SISU athletes to hang out with at the startline, and before we knew it, the sun was up and we were setting off at 45 second intervals into T1.

On the bike I was immediately pushing too hard. The first stretch was uphill and into a raging headwind (45-60kph) and it was extremely tough going. Then the course went straight up the famous Timanfaya climb – also uphill into the headwind. At the top of the climb the wind whipped through the mountains and pushed me from one side of the road to the other, sideways. I felt pretty vulnerable at this point and gripped my handlebars like my life depended on it (er, which it sort of did!).

Any cross wind was a total nightmare for me and I definitely lost time on some of the descents because of it. The bike was unbelievably knackering; apart from a couple of blissful stretches of tailwind, I felt like I was fighting with it the entire time, it was such an energy drain.

I came into T2 with a distinctly unimpressive bike split of 3 hours but the pro times were also reflected by the ridiculous conditions – everyone was at least 20-30 minutes slower than usual. The massive plus was that my bike power was only 3 watts off my bike power at the World Champs in Nice, so considering I had all that training in my legs and no taper, I was super happy with that performance.

Onto the run and I felt ok but my legs were feeling a lot more fatigued than usual, unsurprisingly. The run course was quite a twisty 4-loop course with a lot of lumps and bumps to test the legs, and of course, various sections of wind (although was mostly sheltered).

I started out strong but the hills were making me fade a fair bit and I just couldn’t hold my target pace. By the third loop I felt like I was bordering ‘survival mode’ as my legs just felt so heavy and I knew my form was slipping badly. I tried to open it up on the final loop and I think I managed to just about speed up slightly but I crossed the finish with an equally unimpressive 1:40 run split – a far cry from the times across my previous races in the low 1:30s. The pro run times again were about 10 minutes slower than usual so I think we had to account for tough conditions (and my tired legs!) affecting run splits.

I finished in 4:47 with a 4th place in my age group and 17th female overall. Annoyingly I was only 30 seconds off the podium and a World Championship qualification slot but that’s racing for you!

I was a bit disappointed with my result and my splits, but I know that’s silly because I can bet that the girls who hit the podium would not have completed a 28 hour training week in the lead up to the race. Had I been fresh and tapered I knew I had minutes on that performance.

Anyway, none of that really mattered as the camp and the race served a purpose – big volume, high quality training, and hopefully some fantastic adaptation leading into my final big hit out of the year. And for this one, I will definitely be having a sufficient taper to get the best performance out of myself on the day.

Massive thanks to my coach Duncan who pushed me hard all week (and during the race), and also to my awesome sponsors who help make this happen. I couldn’t be happier with how this season has gone so far and I can’t wait to put in the final big performance of the year and see what I’ve really got!

October 8, 2019

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Simply put, a Nice race!

At my first race of the season – a total unknown having been out of racing for almost a year with injury and a chest infection in the run-up to the race – I somehow managed to qualify for the Ironman 70.3 World Championship in Nice.

It would be my fourth time competing at the annual world champs event, and as my season was panning out better than I had ever expected, I was hoping, for once, to do myself justice there. I had never had a strong result at previous world champs so it was going to be interesting to see what I could do this time.

Except for hills.

Oh yes, a massive one. In fact, probably one of the largest elevation gains out of any recent Ironman 70.3 World Championship events. 1300m of climbing which basically consisted of a huge mountain – it was going to be interesting. Especially as this definitely does not (historically) play to my strengths.

We did some hill specific turbo and cycling work but didn’t go too mental as this was in fact not going to be my A race of the year. My training was going really well though and all the numbers were looking positive – there was no reason why this race wouldn’t go well for me.

I arrived in Nice to boiling hot weather a few days prior to the race, and my parents flew out to be with me, which was amazing having them there to support me. I also had my coach out there to swear at me on the run course. Always useful!

A recce swim confirmed that the water temperature was SUPER warm and the organisers were teetering on the decision of a wetsuit or non-wetsuit swim, as it was borderline, but after some torrential rain the day before the race, the water temperature cooled enough for it to be a wetsuit legal swim. To be honest I wasn’t particularly bothered either way but I suppose a slightly faster swim would be helpful given that it was to be a longer-than-usual day out!

A couple of faux pas in the days leading up to the race revealed to me (and those around me) that my head wasn’t massively in the game. I forgot my bike computer (which my parents luckily brought out with them) and forgot to charge my Di2 battery, despite having both charger and bike in my hotel next to each other for two days straight. Oops.

I’d had a couple of months of pretty intense emotional stress and it was resulting in me walking around in a bit of a daze, a bit drained and not hugely focused. My body was in a good place though so at least there was that to fall back on!

Race day arrived quickly and the weather was looking utterly perfect. I lined up (still in a bit of a daze) on the start line, not feeling nervous, not massively excited either. I almost felt a bit indifferent, but perhaps that’s a good way to be to get in the zone!

As Mark Allen and Dave Scott stood welcoming athletes at the water’s edge (pretty cool/slightly star struck), it was soon go time and I ran into the water, settling into a steady pace early on. I didn’t feel as though I was pushing particularly hard but I wasn’t exactly going easy either – is that about right!?

The swim was totally non-eventful and at one point I even recall acknowledging to myself that I was actually enjoying it. Crystal clear water and not congested, fairly stable conditions and I was feeling comfortable. What’s not to like!?

Out of the swim and my time was pretty much as predicted at 33 minutes. Just to navigate the longest transition area in the world and then I was off powering along the coastal road on the flat (in my element).

This didn’t last long, however, before the course turned inland and started to climb skywards. I was not really sure what to expect of the climb as I hadn’t bothered recceing the bike course at all – I knew the rough profile but it’s different when you’re actually on it.

As it turned out it was actually a pretty nice climb. Weirdly, and again, no idea why or how this was happening, but I was actually enjoying the climb. It was a nice steady gradient and I was pushing hard but not killing myself. My power numbers were WAY higher than they should have been but I felt quite comfortable so just stuck with it.

It was only in the final couple of kilometres towards the top that I thought it was getting a bit tedious and was definitely ready for a mega descent.

Thankfully, that’s exactly what it was, and enabled a serious amount of recovery time too. At one point I turned a corner a bit too aggressively and as I braked my whole bike twitched a bit as the back slid out under me slightly. Cue heart rate spike and a little more conservative descending from that point on…! Nothing is worth crashing for, that’s for sure.

I have to mention here though that I absolutely LOVE racing women only. It provides a completely different race experience. There is basically no aggressive swimming or riding, the women are polite and respectful to each other, and there are a lot less crashes. At the risk of sounding like a total feminist, it’s a much more pleasant race environment and I almost wish every race could be like this!

There may have been stunning scenery but it was most definitely turning out to be a longer bike split than I had anticipated and as I pushed the final few flat kilometres back into town I couldn’t help but feel slightly disappointed with my time of 3:03, despite a PB power for a 70.3 bike course.

Cue another stupidly long transition (couldn’t work out if it was me just faffing about for too long or whether these were just HUGE transition areas that you needed a map to navigate around), and out onto the run.

I felt pretty good as I started out so just decided to hold the pace where it felt relatively comfortable. Two long loops out to the airport and back, and where the airport end felt like a ghost town, the support around main bit of town towards the finish line was incredible.

The thing I liked about two loops was that on the first loop, I could say to myself “I only ever have to come here once more in my life.” And on the second loop “I never have to come here ever again in my whole life”. Little things!

The run seemed to go quite quickly and towards the end I was pushing harder to hold my pace but I was actually enjoying it a bit too much, and on reflection, I could have pushed harder. I fully planned to viagrarxhere.com race this event and “leave it all out there” but I really didn’t, I raced relatively comfortably and finished feeling fine.

My finish time was an unimpressive 5:17 but I did cry when my mum announced that I had come 25th in my age group out of 250. A huge improvement on 40 or 50-something at all my previous world champs. I was very happy with that and it was testament to how tough the course was – as well as how much I had improved in the past year.

I knew I had more to give on the day though but I wasn’t bothered about this at all, as I think genuinely I wasn’t really in the right mindset to race aggressively. It was encouraging to know that I have a bit to spare and I am looking forward to taking that into my A race.

If I could sum up the day, it would be that I absolutely loved it. I thoroughly enjoyed the course and after being told it was “the best performance of my life” by my coach, I really couldn’t have asked for much more than that.

Now, after a bit of downtime, I’m back on the grind and ready for the next one, because my 2019 season is far from over…

September 22, 2019

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A PB and a (missed) podium

Earlier this year mid-way through my training camp at Playitas in Fuerteventura, I ran excitedly up to my coach Duncan (SISU Racing) and asked if I could enter Gdynia 70.3 in August. Up to that point, we had only two races in the entire calendar and now I was relatively injury-free, pumped by high volume camp training, and probably high on exercise-induced endorphins, I got trigger happy with my race entries…

Admittedly, he was never keen on this idea but I think there was a reluctant “ok” because I entered it. Then I qualified for the 70.3 World Champs in Nice, in September. Oh.

It was only ever going to be a “fun” race, even back in April when I entered it – this was the condition on which I could race it. A B, if not C  race – very low down in the priority of my season.

As I’ve raced this spectacular race in Poland three times before, it’s a good one for familiarity, course and local knowledge, and a quick ‘get in, get it done, get out’ trip with minimal travel. Perfect.

The weeks leading up to the race were a bit interesting as I had a week off training while climbing the Eiger. Sure, I had altitude, mountain air and a lot of climbing in my legs (and arms) but I can’t even begin to describe how much impact this kind of trip has on your body.

I came back from the mountaineering trip straight into a 23 hour training week (and the two weeks preceding were 20 hour weeks too). Then promptly picked up a minor cold. I was coughing a bit a few days before the race and we were debating whether or not I should go.

Duncan told me not to race. My mum told me not to race. (Mums always know best though right?). This time I vetoed them both and decided to go anyway – I can’t stress how much I love this race and I knew my body was in a great place in terms of my training. I just couldn’t give up the opportunity to see what I could do in a relaxed, no pressured environment on a course I know and love.

As such I had very strict instructions to race conservatively – it was evident my immune system was down and we have a World Championship in just a few weeks’ time, so it was not a time for being a triathlon hero. The plan was to cruise in my comfort zone and enjoy it.

As we had placed absolutely zero performance targets on this race I felt totally and utterly chilled going into it. Mega relaxed and happy and looking forward to getting out there. The weather was dire the day before the race, pouring with rain, and yet the forecast for race day was wall-to-wall blue skies and sunshine. It was perfect.

Pre-race prep was casual and relaxing and I knew I was starting to feel sharp after a week of relatively little training, and as I headed down to the beach start with the music pumping, I was beyond excited.

The rolling start began and I tried to position myself close to the front, and we ran into the water, soon settling into a pace.

So here’s the funny thing. Because I had been instructed to race conservatively, I just wanted to feel comfortable (ish) all day, so I basically just cruised the swim. At one point, this exact thought went through my head: “I am actually taking the piss.” I was semi-laughing to myself in my head, thinking about all sorts of random crap, like I was doing a steady Sunday morning lake swim or something.

I reasoned that even if my swim was a few minutes slower than where it should be, I should be fine on the bike and run – oh and who cares anyway.

Lots of jellyfish. They don’t sting though.

More random thoughts. Talk about focused!

I exited the swim after faffing behind some slow people who were taking their time coming onto the steps (I mean, no pressure, we’re chilled right?), and glanced at my watch. 32 minutes. WTAF. I couldn’t believe this, I mean it’s hardly record setting but seriously – I just vaguely moved my arms around for 1.9k while wondering what to put on my Ocado shop when I get home.

Interesting. Out of T1 and onto the bike and cue a lot more faffing as I cruised at about 9kph along the cobbled section trying to get the Best Bike Split race plan up on my bike computer. THIS, by the way, was to prevent me from going to hard.

In fact it was a joke power plan. Like, steady ride power.

As we hit the roads I looked down and realised I was WAY over it. But I felt super comfortable.

So I ignored it, obviously.

The first half of the course involves most of the climbing, but it’s all super steady gradient through a pretty nature reserve/forest area. I stayed in my big ring for the entire bike course, and as the world’s worst climber that’s saying a lot.

Also, there were no women. I was riding with men all day – I think I passed two women the entire time but none passed me. This was good.

I felt relatively comfortable for the whole ride, I mean I wasn’t completely cruising it but I wasn’t pushing that hard either. It was definitely within myself. I felt a bit sick on the bike which was quite unusual but was hoping it would just pass, although peripherally aware that I wasn’t taking on enough fluid as I neared the end of the bike leg.

I rolled into T2 with a 2:32 bike split which was a huge PB on this course (by 8 minutes since 2017), and pretty chuffed with my decent times so far.

Right, time to run. I knew my running was in a good place, in fact better than ever, so I was excited about getting onto the run.

As I started the first lap there was hardly anyone on the run course. I overtook a guy who kept turning his head to look at me as I closed in behind him, and realised it was a male pro. Ok granted he was a lap ahead of me but that’s pretty gutting to be overtaken by a female age grouper. I mean, he must have been having a bad day as while my pacing was looking good, it wasn’t *that* good!

Half way through the first lap I was overtaken by a female and as I shouted “damn” in my head, I realised that it was also a pro female (one lap ahead of me). It happened again a bit later on but apart from these two pro women, no other women overtook me on the run. Woop.

However.

I wanted my stomach to settle before I took the first gel and about 25 minutes into the run it was not settling. So I took one anyway. Actually, it didn’t make my stomach worse but it wasn’t getting any better, so I just had to ignore it. Weirdly, I have had no stomach issues all year but my mouth felt like the Sahara desert so maybe I was dehydrated. I made a concerted effort to grab water at every aid station but suspected it might be a bit late.

On the second lap my pace was dipping a bit. The course isn’t flat and with a kilometre long uphill drag it was a bit of an effort to hold the pace. My legs felt ok and my breathing was comfortable, but my stomach hurt and I began to feel like I was struggling a bit. Every time I passed a certain point on the course, I told myself I only had to see it one more time before I get to finish.

The course was getting pretty congested with athletes now and as I entered the last lap, I knew I just had to hold on for 6k to the finish line. One last drag up the hill. One last turnaround on the sea front. Then it was the home straight.

The last kilometre was very uncomfortable. I was feeling very sick by this point and was telling myself repeatedly how much my legs were aching (they weren’t too bad actually) just to try and move the focus away from my stomach. I felt if I focused on my stomach it could be game over in the final km.

I pushed hard towards the final finish chute and ran down the carpet totally oblivious to everything that was going on – apart from noticing my time (which I had absolutely no clue about until this point), in red digits above the finish line. 4:43. Nice, that’ll be a new PB by 4 minutes then!

Almost immediately through the finish line I started to wretch a little. Oh dear. (Sorry, this is gross). Totally conscious that there were friends and family just a little further up waiting for their loved ones I leaned over the barrier and was sick. Not a huge amount, but I even surprised myself. After 35 (or so) half Ironmans, 9 marathons and 2 full Ironmans, I have never ever been sick. Very weird.

My stomach felt like it was in bits as I ambled over to the athlete finisher village.

The tracker said I was still going with a finish time of 5.5 hours so I knew that something had gone wrong somewhere. Eventually the results came up and said I was 4th – damn those girls ahead must have been fast!

I was a bit gutted to just miss out on the podium after such a solid season but you can’t ask for more than a PB. I didn’t manage to get a 2020 World Champs slot at the rolldown either as there was only one available in my age group.

Pretty happy with how my race had panned out considering the less than ideal lead up and what was a pretty conservative race effort, I headed home ready to focus on the World Champs in a few weeks’ time.

Once home, I randomly checked the official results on the Ironman website and it said I was 3rd in my age group.

It then only dawned on me that the 4th position was ‘open’ – this was my overall position amongst the whole field of non-pro women. But the tracker and results hadn’t shown my age group position so I just didn’t bother going to the awards ceremony, thinking I had come 4th!

Gutted to have missed out on a podium experience and some nice trophy bling but it’s not about that. I was stoked to not break my 2019 podium streak for every single race I have entered, and also pretty happy to have come 14th female overall including 10 pro women. Oh, and the PB. Yeah, you can’t ask for more than that really.

It was a huge confidence boost as I know that if I can execute that kind of race under those circumstances, I am capable of much more. 100%.

Now though, it’s time to get the last block of training in before the big stage in Nice… where it really will be a test against true talent.


Huge thanks as always to my awesome sponsors:
Ceepo/iRide
Raceskin
Energy Snacks
OTEC Bikes
Total Balance Clinic
CocoPro
XEndurance
Active Edge
Aminoman
Zone3
Ffwd
Sundried

August 16, 2019

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Taking the win

When I plan my race season I always like to throw in one UK ‘C race’, usually of a shorter distance, to mix up the season a bit and keep things fresh. I think there is also a great advantage in using a shorter race as a hard training day.

I raced the F3 Events Fugitive Olympic Distance Triathlon in Marlow two years ago so I knew the course pretty well, and when I saw a gap in my season I thought it would be a good one to go back to. Having won it in 2017 (overall female winner), I also had my eye on winning it again.

Shorter, local races are weird though, I was literally stood in my house the evening before wondering what I needed – I race all the time, COME ON YOU SHOULD KNOW THIS NOW! Then there was the “what nutrition do I even need!?” conundrum. I think it’s just generally the relaxed feeling about it as there’s no racking or briefing faff the day before, and the race is so short you don’t even need to halve your usual 70.3 nutrition plan. Couple of gels and you’re good to go!

I’d had a fair amount of emotional stress in the lead up to the race which wasn’t ideal prep, but it was a race we weren’t tapering for anyway so I was also loaded up with a 17 hour training week beforehand.

I felt pretty blasé about it in perfect honesty, but was absolutely stoked to have my friend Eloise there to support me, it made such a difference to the enjoyment level! As we messed around before the start I almost felt like I “couldn’t be bothered” to do the race, I wasn’t in the slightest bit nervous, felt super relaxed and almost a little bit unmotivated by it all!

Motivation levels dipped a bit lower when a spot of rain came along (THIS is why I don’t race in the UK!) but that soon cleared up and we had pretty calm and ideal conditions for the race itself. The water was colder than I anticipated and as I eased myself into the beautiful brown water of the Thames, I lined up by the inside buoy right at the front (always my ambitious swim start position!).

We set off and I went out typically a bit too hard but soon settled into my pace. By the first turnaround buoy, on lap one of two, I realised I was in the front pack, all of which consisted of men. There were a few anomalies up front but I knew I was swimming well (comparative to the field at least!). I managed to maintain this position and worked my way even further up the front of the front pack, so by the last turnaround buoy on the second lap, there was no-one actually in front of me anymore.

I exited the water and was swiftly informed that I was first lady out of the water. Good. That part went to plan then!

Out on the bike after what felt like the world’s longest T1 exit run on grass, gravel and unmade road, and we hit a short climb. Again I had a few men around me as we ‘cat and moused’ up and down the climb and once on the valley floor I got down on the bars and pushed on.

I wasn’t really that bothered what my power was, this was more of a ‘do it for fun’ race and as I wanted to race mostly by feel, but I kept an eye on it out of interest. It was about 10-15 watts higher than my 70.3 power plan – probably about right.

The bike route hits a climb towards the turnaround point – it’s more of a long drag really, which wasn’t particularly fast going until you turn around, and then it’s mega-speeds of 60kph back into Henley. I overtook quite a few guys on the descent and still no sign of any women, woohoo!

I biked into T2 after the last big hill with my quads feeling a bit on fire (that’ll be racing on a big training week, damn you lactic acid!), wondering if I had overcooked it on the bike a bit and that my run would be a struggle. I finished the bike in 1:08 so I’m definitely not breaking any records, but I think was a PB bike split for me.

After rapidly deciding to sack off socks, I ran out feeling pretty strong and knew immediately that it was going to be a good one. I felt excellent and was running at a pace I usually do my longer efforts on the track at. Might not be sustainable Kilpin, but let’s see what we’ve got! As I approached the end of the first (of two) laps I was still feeling awesome and went through 5k in just over 20 minutes. Jeez.

Thinking how everything goes so goddamn quickly when you race shorter distances, I started to see more people on the second lap and was burning past them trying to hold my pace. I knew I had a good lead but this was no longer about pushing myself to win the race, I knew (at the risk of sounding arrogant and smug!) that I had that in the bag. I wanted to see what I was capable of as I never race Olympic distance tris! May as well chuck a PB in alongside a win.

The last few kilometres were admittedly starting to hurt quite a bit but I was still managing to hold the pace, and as I ran down the finish chute I posted a run time of 41 minutes and a total finish time of 2:21, and went to give Eloise ALL the sweaty hugs for her hard cheering.

The best part was that I enjoyed every second. Shorter distance races are such a different beast mentally – you almost have no time to experience those lows and highs during the race, it’s just process and ticking off the disciplines, and all of a sudden, you’re done! BOOM!

I was so happy to win the race after leading it from start to finish, and ended up 10th overall including the men. Ok, so it’s not a huge international field but given the high volume of training and stress leading into the race, if nothing else it was a pretty good training day banked.

Now it’s time to see if I can keep this podium streak up for the rest of the season….!

PHOTO CREDIT: Richard Knight Photography

 

July 24, 2019

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Piecing it all together

Towards the end of 2018, when I had started to slowly build up the running again post-injury, I felt (rather ambitiously at the time) that I needed to enter a race for 2019, even though I was nowhere near in the clear injury-wise.

This race was Ironman 70.3 Luxembourg. My first planned race back from injury, and I figured I had a whole eight months or so to get running injury-free once again.

Well, since resuming structured training again from January this year, I have to say things couldn’t have gone better. I’ve posted some of the biggest and hardest training blocks of my life.

Being mindful of the injury, though, we had to build the running back in really conservatively as I continued work with my biomechanics coach on getting realigned and pain-free. Comparing this to last year, when I was in full marathon-training mode, I thought there was no chance that my running would be where it was in 2018, because of the huge training setback I’d had for the majority of the year.

When I raced Florida 70.3 in early April (an add-in race after I had signed up for Luxembourg) it was apparent that my run training had been limited – not just a tough hot, hilly run course; but I’d only done about two runs of 21k in distance in a whole year. It showed.

The past few months of training had gone exceptionally well though, and after a short stint at altitude in St Moritz, I was back and feeling sharp, primed, and ready to race.

I knew I was in a good place. I said to people before the race that there’s no reason why it shouldn’t go really well; the training had been going so well, I was comfortable on an incredible new bike (the Ceepo Shadow*), and I’d lost a few extra kilos so I’d be racing at my lightest ever since I took up triathlon. If I’m honest, I was in the shape of my life.

My coach (SISU Racing), even took my bike out to Luxembourg in his van to save me the hassle of flying with it. Everything in the lead up was going smoothly and I felt so excited to see what I could do on the day.

I was lucky enough to have my mindset coach (Coach Raisie) fly out to support me for the weekend too – it was amazing having my team there and it gave me such a huge confidence boost going into the race. We sat in my hotel room the night before the race doing a visualisation session, it was the perfect prep to get me ready mentally.

And if nothing else, we had an awesome time hanging out with lots of laughs and fooling around even on race morning, with Duncan threatening to draw a crude doodle on the back of my hand instead of the inspirational words I asked him to write!

I positioned myself extremely ambitiously in the self-seeded swim start area with my friend Sam and felt really excited to begin; almost no nerves which I knew to be a good sign.

Soon we were off on the rolling start and I settled into my pace. The swim was pretty uneventful apart from a bit of the usual – athletes unable to sight crossing over in front of you and a bit of congestion at the last turn buoy. Not particularly noteworthy! The last time I did this race was in 2017 and I posted a 27-minute swim time because the course was short, so I wouldn’t be lying if I said I was hoping for a sub-30 swim time…

This time, no such luck. I came out the water and glanced down at my watch – 32 minutes. I had been hoping for faster if I’m honest so wasn’t hugely impressed. But no time to lament – I had to go and ride this bike like I stole it!

Out on the bike and I was feeling pretty fast. The first 30k or so of the bike course is dead flat and you really do feel like you’re flying. My power was looking really strong and above target but sustainable. I got to 30k in 50 minutes – pretty rapid course!

All good things come to an end though! Because, predictably, it starts to go uphill. The short climb which marked the end of the superfastflatamazing section was the start of “the rolling bit” in the middle. It didn’t feel particularly fast as it was constantly rolling with a lot of sharp 180 degree turns in towns and villages where you had to slow to almost standstill! I knew I was doing ok because I hadn’t had a female pass me – yet.

Finally, we entered France where the road surface became significantly poorer and after a fairly short stretch it was back on the home straight (and flat!) into town, with the last 15k back to the fast flat section alongside the river Mosel.

I pulled into T2 with a 2:36 bike split thinking that yet again, I was expecting a slightly faster bike split (never satisfied!) but knowing that I had stuck to the plan so we can’t be in a bad place.

I have said this before, but as I run out of T2 I know immediately how my run is going to go. Literally within the first few steps off the bike I can judge the state of play for the run – I guess you get to know your body pretty well after 30+ Ironman 70.3s!

Anyway, this time, I knew immediately. I ran out of T2 feeling awesome. I glanced down at my watch after five minutes settling into it and couldn’t believe my pace. “That simply isn’t sustainable, surely. Jesus! Well, at the moment, it’s feeling comfortable so I’m going to go with it!”

I ran the first lap thinking this could get very painful pretty quickly but after 7k and the first lap complete, I was still feeling great and flying along. I couldn’t have felt happier, I was really enjoying it and felt almost too comfortable. This cannot be right…!

It was amazing seeing Duncan and Raisie on course and I knew I was going well because of Duncan’s language (I’ll leave that to your imagination..!). Half way in, and I was still feeling good. YES.

The hilarious part is that halfway through the second lap I overtook a pro female who looked like she was struggling a bit (granted she was a whole lap ahead of me…!) but maybe five minutes or so after this I heard someone breathing down my neck and she appeared just behind me, on my shoulder, and stuck to me like glue. I had to hide a smile as I knew I was now pacing a pro. Get in!

As I started the last lap I knew I’d have to push it a bit as my body was definitely starting to feel it a bit at this point. My new paced friend had skirted off to the finish line so I was now alone and willing myself on mentally.

The last lap did involve a bit of internal encouragement from within myself to hold this pace, as I was aware that I could well be on for a PB half marathon time here. I had no idea what my overall time was looking like though. “Stick to the plan, stick to the plan, stick to the plan.”

I ran into the finish chute pushing hard and finished the run in 1:33, not only a 70.3 run PB but an overall half marathon PB! Wow, I couldn’t have been happier with that run split, I would never have expected that! I finished in 4:47 which was also a 70.3 PB.

As I went through the finish I immediately lay down, absolutely spent. After I had recovered my breath slightly I saw Raisie at the side and immediately burst into tears of happiness and relief that I’d had such an amazing race.

Shortly after that I saw Duncan and it happened all over again – the look on his face just said it all.

I ended up coming 2nd in my age group and 16th female overall (10 of who were pros), so was extremely happy with a second podium of the season, especially in a strong European field.

I am now focusing on chipping away at my time across each discipline as I absolutely know that there are more improvements to be made, and in a weird way, I feel that this is just the beginning…

Working with Duncan and Raisie has opened my eyes to a very different approach to training and racing, and it’s clearly paying dividends already. We have a very exciting plan in place for the rest of the season, and I can’t wait to see (hopefully!) more progress. What I do know is that I feel more motivated than ever to take this up a notch.

Most importantly though, aside from results and podiums, I absolutely loved the race. I loved the training (most of it, anyway!) and the race was just the culmination of all that hard work. The perfect day, piecing it all together. And that’s what it’s all about really.

 


*A huge thank you to i-Ride who sorted me the brand new Ceepo Shadow in time for this race!

July 3, 2019

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