Slippery slate, wet Welsh hills, borderline hypothermia... it must be Slateman!

 I haven't blogged in ages... years in fact. It's not that I have been in sporting hybernation, I've done loads, it's just that time is a commodity of which I am short since having children and so it's hard enough to fit in the training for events, let alone finding time to blog about them. However, for this one I feel compelled to make the effort as I want to document it whilst it's still raw.

Two days ago, 8th June 2025, I took on the Slateman Legend Triathlon. This is a half-iron / 70.3 distance event based in Llanberis, North Wales. I am no stranger to North Wales; I am no stranger to the Slateman event; I am no stranger to the half-iron distance here. I did the Slateman Savage in 2016 - a double event over 2 days, with a sprint triathlon on the Saturday and a standard on the Sunday. I also did my first and, up until Sunday, only half-iron triathlon to date, The Brutal, in Llanberis in 2017. In fact, I won the thing by 25 minutes that day. But that was pre-children, when I actually had time to put in the training that an event of this magnitude demands. Since having my first child in February 2019 I have been a full-time stay-at-home Mum. Last September, my second child started attending nursery 3 days a week, meaning I have slightly more time to train. I know of other Mums who jump back into huge training volume very soon after giving birth. We all know the well-documented tales of Mums who do ultras and breastfeed and pump milk at checkpoints - and such is their right - but that avenue was never for me. I did not have children to go out and leave them for hours on end while I pursue what is, after all, a hobby, not a career. Going out for longer than an hour at a time has always sat uneasily with me, so that ruled out any longer distance events that require hours out on the bike. BTW, I'm not judging Mums who do do this, everyone to make their own call based on their own circumstances, but it just wasn't what I wanted to do. Even with my children at school / nursery 3 days a week, I still did way less volume in preparation for this race than I did for the Brutal.... plus I'm older now (42 next week) and in early menopause, so my training regime has had to adapt.

So, what training did I do? Well, my winter was spent focussed on the European duathlon championships in Rumia, Poland, which I completed at the end of April over the the standard distance (10k run - 40k bike - 5k run) and where I managed to achieve my A-goal of coming away with the gold medal in my age group. After a week recovering, that left me with just over 3 weeks specific training for an extremely tough half-iron triathlon... not a lot of time! I had a decent cycling base built up from the duathlon training, but most of that was done indoors on my Wattbike. I now needed to actually get my arse out of the door on a proper bike for longer rides. I managed 1 x 39 mile ride, 2 x 30 mile rides and a handful of 20 milers. Somewhat short of the 57 miles with 4300ft of climbing that Slateman Legend throws at you.

Swimming, well, I make no attempt to obscure the fact that this is not my favourite triathlon discipline. I swim semi-decently in a pool, but it all goes to pot the moment I put on a wetsuit in open water. I also loathe swimming in the sea and we have no lakes around here to train in. So my swim training consisted of a 1500m pool swim most weeks and the one brief ten minute dip in the sea at Sidmouth, mainly to make sure my wetsuit still fits me as I haven't worn it since before having children 7 years ago. Again, not exactly ideal for a swim that ended up being 2100m. The biggest issue for me is coping with the cold on the swim. I seem to suffer with the cold more than the majority of people, and as the Slateman doesn't allow the use of neoprene gloves, whereas the Brutal did, I really suffered... more on this in a moment.

Running. I typically average 20 miles a week over 4 runs. 2 easy runs (9m/m), one hills session and one parkrun at upper-end tempo (6:30m/m ish). My longest runs tend to only be 6 milers. For this I upped that to 2 x 8 milers... again, short of the 14 miles with 2600ft elevation I'd face at Slateman!

Further annoyance in my final race build up came in the form of illness. After a really decent spell on the health front, some hideous chesty, phlegmy cough and laryngitis chose to strike just 6 days prior to the race. It wiped me out the entire week, enforcing a 5 day long taper of doing absolutely nothing beyond necking back Lemip.

This all sounds like the makings of an under-prepared idiot, ready to launch herself off a precipice in blissful ignorance, armed not with a parachute but with a can-do attitude and clutching a big, fat bottle of denial. Kind of correct. However, I do have some things in my favour. I know the terrain. I lived in North Wales for 9 years, the last of those spent in Llanberis itself, running over these slate trails every week. (I was just starting out as a runner then, in 2010, and wouldn't take up multisport until 5 years later). As it's such a long way from Devon we don't get to go back as much as I'd like and so every return visit feels like a gift and I want to make the most out of it, so the longer the distance, the more time spent running and biking amidst that beautiful landscape. Also in my favour: I am a stubborn little shit. Seriously, with me it's always 95% head, 5% body at these events. I am competitive, determined, despise quitting, and I seem to have an incredibly high tolerance to prolonged pain and discomfort. The longer and tougher the event, the more it suits the mentally strong rather than those who simply rely on physical prowess to muscle their way through. Of course you can't sign up to this sort of thing on a total whim, but I did go into it hoping that my resilience would compensate for the less than ideal amount of targeted training I'd done.  I also have a natural endurance engine, not a speed one, so my pace doesn't drop off much as the distance increase. 

And so to race day. This was my first time going away from home without my children. They have always accompanied me to all my other events, including to the 3 overseas European duathlons I've done. This alone felt very strange. I took my Mum with me instead, which was nice as we never get to spend much quality time together these days. I was awake before the alarm at 5am. Coffee, Lemsip (as still feeling the residual effects of the week-long lurg), and 2 porridge pots down the hatch. We were staying in the Victoria Hotel adjacent to the lake, so it was just a 5 minute walk to transition and racking, with my wetsuit already on. This year they held an iron-distance triathlon alongside the Legend, standard and sprint races for the first time. Those guys started at 5:15am and were just exiting the water as we were having our race briefing. As an ominous sign of things to come, one poor girl was being carted off to the medical tent with hypothermia; her race sadly over.

A bit about Llyn Padarn, the lake. It's big, VERY deep and always cold, even in high summer, because it's constantly filled with fresh rain run off from the surrounding mountains. It's about 6 degrees colder than the sea currently is. The edges of it feel ok, but out in the middle, the deep bit, it's perishingly cold. The horn blasted and we were off. Shocked by the cold as I plunged my head in for the first stroke, I started to gasp for breath and it would take me a good ten minutes to get the breathing back under control. It was a 1 lap swim and the yellow marker buoys at the far end looked a bloody long way away. My hands got colder and colder and soon my fingers did this weird spasming thing whereby they split open and I couldn't close them no matter what, so this meant I had a really useless catch and so my pace slowed more than ever. At the far turnaround point I glanced back to see how many swimmers were behind me.... not many, but I wasn't last either. Maybe 75% were in front and 25% behind me. Keep going. No choice. It felt like that swim went on forever. Exiting the water, frozen but relieved, the worst bit  was over, in 48 minutes. When I did the Brutal, over the same distance in the same lake, I did it in 42 minutes, but neoprene gloves were permitted for that. Game changer. 

 

Relieved to now be out of the water and able to get going and warm up, I now hit the next unexpected consequence of that cold, slow swim: my fingers were too frozen to function. I got to transition and I just couldn't do anything. I tried to put on my cycling jersey, but couldn't grip the zip. I tried to put on my gloves, but couldn't coordinate my frozen fingers into them. I got my bike shoes on, but couldn't do up the straps. All I could do was stand there swearing and looking pathetic, until eventually a lovely official took pity on me and came to my assistance. He did up my jacket and shoes and put on my gloves for me. Even with this eventual rescue, I still took 9 minutes in transition: a new record! Unhooked my bike from the rack, grateful to finally be leaving, and the next disaster hit: my main water-bottle holder sheered off; the bolt just snapped. I had to abandon it and face the cycle on just one bottle, and, unfortunately, not the main one on the down tube that I am used to grabbing from, but on the seat tube which is far more awkwardly positioned. Cue next dilemma: my fingers were too frozen to extract the bottle from the cage, neither could I get at my gels or flapjack bites. This was all going rather tits up...

Finally, I get to the climb up the Llanberis Pass and I could try to warm my body up. 1 hour into the race at this point and I have as yet been unable to take on any water, gels or food. Thoughts start drifting to whether or not I'll be able to complete this. Am I being stupid attempting to? I have spent the week ill and now I am bordering on hypothermia. I am a mother now; I have responsibilities, kids at home who rely on me. Am I being reckless and selfish? Then, the next thought, indeed a thought that also struck me in my first foray into Slateman back in 2016 when it started hailing as I descended down the back of the pass towards Capel Curig and I was equally as cold: but I haven't seen any marshalls, so what am I going to do? Just shiver pathetically at the side of the road? Might as well keep going.

I knew my friends Sian and Nigel were waiting for me outside their house in Tregarth, at the 22 mile point. I told myself if I hadn't warmed up by then, I could stop and ask them for a lift back to Llanberis and pull the plug on it. I was just starting to warm up a little, to the extent that I could now safely retrieve my water bottle without risking dropping it, when an almighty downpour hit in the Ogwen Valley, wind and rain battered our faces, and I was once again freezing. So cold my back and neck muscles were spasaming. I had predicted averaging around 17-18mph on the bike. Ha! I couldn't even come down off the hoods, I was frozen in a very un-aero position. Just keeping moving forward was the new target - all thoughts of putting the power down gone with the Welsh wind. All I could think of was the deep hot bath, that I would have traded my bike for at this point, back at the hotel!

Tregarth; I see Sian and Nigel. Nigel ready with his camera, like he was when I did Slateman in 2016, Snowdona Race in 2011, 2015 and 2023; Snowdonia Marathon in 2011, and the Brutal in 2017. My good friends, out waiting to cheer me through. Seeing them, I found myself pulling over to the side of the road and unclipping. On the verge of tears, "What am I doing? I don't think I can carry on, I'm just so cold. And I need a wee. I'm a mother now; what am I doing? This is just miserable." A big hug from Sian and I was all but ready to dismount and head in the direction of their warm house and put their kettle on! Then I asked, as I'd no idea up until now, "How many women have gone through?". The reply came: "Not many, maybe only 4 or 5". That was what I needed to hear. Competitive Ellie surged to the fore. "Right, then I'm carrying on". I clipped back in, give them a wave, and I was off. Come on Ellie. You haven't left your children for 5 days, paid £230 to enter, driven 7 hours to get here to throw in the towel. Get your feeble arse in gear and get on with what you came here to do.

The image that speaks a thousand words... leaving Tregarth after my pep talk from Sian and Nigel. I was all ready to quit just before this point.

The sun then peeped through the clouds. It only made a brief one minute appearance, before vanishing again for the rest the day, but the fleeting warmth of the sun on my back and feeling buoyed by seeing my friends was the boost I needed. Now we get to work. No more faffing. Let's focus. 

I had to make a brief pitstop at the aid station at the 30 mile point to refill my one surviving bottle, but after that I knew I was past half way and the long, luscious descent to Beddgelert beckonned. At this point I really needed a wee, but I wasn't about to stop for a third time, so I lifted myself off the saddle and just let it flow.... it's not glamourous, triathlon, but when you gotta go, you gotta go! I past the entrance to Snowdonia Riding Stables - the place where I rode and kept my horse, Arrie, for many years when I lived here. I only took up running in 2010; prior to that I was an avid horse rider and so I felt pangs of nostalgia seeing the sign for the stables and recalling my student life at Bangor University some 20 years ago. Onto the drops for the first time in over 30 miles and finally the speed was increasing, as was the warmth in my body. (My feet, however, would remain like blocks of ice until 3 miles into the run!) I was starting to pick people off. By now we had been joined on route by the standard triathlon and duathlon competitors, so I was looking out for riders with pink bibs, who were my competition in the Legend. I had overtaken a few ladies early on but had gone a long while now without seeing any others, so figured I was still sat in around 4th place. A lovely tailwind pushed us up to Pen-y-Gwryd, then the turn to the last big climb back up the pass. Cresting the summit, the wind hit with force. It was a vicious, teasing wind, the likes of which you only get in the mountains, where the terrain disrupts the flow and so it swirls in erratic vortices and seemingly attacks you from all angles. One minute I was being buffeted left, the next right, then my wheel would start to flutter and I could feel I was losing control of the bike. I slowed to a crawl. I'd picked off loads of blokes on the climb and fully expected them to come zooming past me on the descent, but none of them did: we were obviously all taking it cautiously. No point risking a crash with only 5 miles left to go. As I got to the bottom and it flattened out alongside Llyn Peris, I saw a lady with a pink bib. She was 2 miles into the run at this point so I was able to calculate she must have been at least 30 minutes ahead. I didn't see any other ladies which encouraged me. 

Having chats with fellow competitors.... whilst overtaking them on hills!

A much swifter T2 (1:38, fastest of the day!) and I was now in my comfort zone: one foot in front of the other, doing what I love, in the place I love. I felt in control of my race for the first time and knew that I could now finish. The Legend does 2 run laps, up the long and steep zig-zag slate trails climb (I walked a lot of this, but not as much as everyone else did as I was picking people off the whole time now). Along the top, you run through the old abandoned quarry workings, frozen in time with the ruins of quarry workers bovvies, old rusting equipment and disused railcarts festooning the landscape. Then came the descent, through the wooded trails alongside the lake. Loving this bit, recalling my many runs from my time spent living here, I actually started to sing to myself (the Swedish entry for this year's Eurovision... don't judge me!), feeling happy for the first time since putting a toe into that freezing lake at 7am that morning! Through the lap checkpoint and my Mum and Moira are cheering me on and a marshal said she thought I was 1st lady (I knew this wasn't true, but as I had picked a lady off on lap 1 of the run, I wondered if I could now be in 2nd or 3rd... a podium position). Lap 2 and there was a little bit more walking up the slate inclines, but I maintained a decent pace on the other sections and, to say I have only done 3 runs at half marathon distance since 2013, I actually felt quite good! 

Passing the old quarry hospital with less than a mile to go, I could hear the announcer in the event field say, "And this is our 2nd female in the legend crossing the line", so I guessed I was 3rd. Able to relax and enjoy the descent, I glanced over towards Snowdon and to the Snowdon lady and thanked her for protecting me in the mountains today (old North Walian folklore, and she didn't always do enough to protect the Victorian quarry workers, but I thought I should tip her the nod). I crossed the line as 3rd lady and 1st vet. I was escorted straight off to the podium as they had been waiting for me to finish to do the prizes. I was just 5 minutes behind second place - all of which was frustratingly lost in T1, being unable to function; however, managing the tough conditions is all part of the event, and the lady who placed second did that far better than me, so deserved the placing - and a whopping 40 minutes behind first, who was just amazing across all 4 (yes, 4, you can lose a race in transition!) disciplines. A big hug from my Mum, Moira, Sian and Nigel and a handful of crisps stuffed down my gob - oooooh, the delectable saltiness of those crisps - and I felt fresh as a daisy! (A feeling that would soon wear off!) 

This has been a long post, and if you're still reading, congratulations. I mainly wrote it for myself, to document it for years to come. I also wrote it to officially note that if I ever feel the need to scratch the full Ironman itch, it will have to be scratched somewhere in the Mediterranean where conditions are much warmer. Unfortunately suffering in the cold is one of my areas of weakness, and one that I can't really do much about. On the flip side, I cope superbly with heat, so temperatures in the high 20s don't phase me!

Next up? Not entirely sure. Most immediate goal is to be able to walk normally again and go down staircases forwards, but after that, maybe just some lowkey running races. We'll see. I am happy to bask in the warm afterglow of this one for some time to come... 

Dysautonomically disgruntled.... but qualified for the GB sprint duathlon team again!

 I would love to write that since my last blog I have had a better run of luck on the health front and been able to get back to some consistent training and racing.... sadly, not so. In July I ran the Snowdon Race whilst suffering from what we later found to be our 3rd bout of covid. I set off up the mountain and my whole body just said "NO"! This year the race was cut short due to 90mph winds and freezing temperatures at the summit (typical July weather...), so with this knowledge I plodded on as I knew it was only two thirds of the usual distance. I was gutted to cross the line as 2nd vet 40, just 5 seconds behind the category winner. I had no idea and, knowing that I had taken it easy, was frustrated as I could have easily found those 5 seconds. But that is racing, and I made a judgment call on the day as my body gave out warnings, and so ultimately I did the right thing.

Snowdon Race / Ras yr Wyddfa in driving wind, hail, rain etc.

I had a lot of post-viral fatigue in the weeks after so took a full week off any exercise. Then, shortly after racing Totnes 10k at the start of August we got struck down with the next lurg doing the rounds, which started out as a tickly cough but then entrenched itself and the most hideous, harking, unshiftable cough I have ever had the displeasure to experience ensued. For all four of us - me, husband and both children - it then turned into a chest infection and we all required antibiotics. It lingered on for 12 weeks for me and 15 weeks for my husband, who also needed steroids and further antibiotics to shift his. This meant that for the duration of August, September and October I had to have multiple rest periods and the only exercise I was able to manage was some very low-key plodding. I did get carried away at a couple of parkruns and, at one at Eden Project in September - at which I miraculously managed a sub 20 minute clocking - I massively set myself back and flared up my post-covid dysautonomia: don't push your body when your body is still coughing up half the contents of its lungs people!

I was diagnosed with dysautonomia after seeing a cardiology specialist back in late May / early June. I am only just starting to get my head around what it is and what it means long term. Crucially, it is deemed "incurable". This sounds like a death sentence, but in reality I have learned that although once you get it you are stuck with it, in practice it is like having arthritis, whereby you have to live with it but you can manage it and there will be times of flare ups (triggered by further viral infections, fatigue or stress) and times where you barely notice it and the symptoms fade. For me it manifests itself as tachycardia (fast and also erratic heart rate). I also have symptoms compatible with POTS, so it is exacerbated by standing, walking, running (upright) activities, and relieved by sitting and recumbent activities. At night, my resting heart rate is only about 10 bpm above its previous normal (50 instead of 40) during a dysautonomia flare up, but when I get out of bed it shoots up from 50 to around 120bpm within 10 minutes of waking. Eating large meals also exacerbate it, as does stress and adrenaline. So when you think that racing spikes adrenaline levels plus is an upright, highly aerobic activity, you basically have a recipe there for a truly bonkers heart rate that goes off the scale of my previous parameters and makes any form of heart rate based pacing completely useless! The weirdest thing is, I don't feel any different. My garmin tells me that my h/r is spiking at 185bpm just doing an easy 9m/m warm up jog, but I feel totally comfortable, not out of breath, able to hold an easy conversation and essentially feeling like I do on a normal day when it is around 125bpm at this same pace and effort level. And no, it's not a faulty Garmin as it's been confirmed by ECG and holter monitoring. 

A dysautonomia day: 50bpm in bed, get up and suddenly I'm in zone 2 just preparing and eating breakfast and sat in the car driving to the race. Then start an easy warm up jog and it shoots up to the high 170s. 

At first I didn't really know if this spelled curtains for my competitive sporting ambitions. I am a Mum now first and foremost, so staying healthy and avoiding any undue risk is my top priority to ensure I am able to care for my children. Once the cardiologist did further checks to establish that this is not an actual heart issue and is an autonomic nervous system problem and that exercise is in fact one of the recommended treatments for autonomic dysfunction, I felt happier about starting to push myself again. And what I have noticed is that my heart rate spikes within the first ten minutes of exercise, then the exercise actually kicks it back into a more normal rhythm and rate. So I just have to make sure I do a proper warm up now so the spikes can occur and it can then calm down before the race and real effort begins. That's not to say it doesn't still affect me - I know it does. Mostly it winds me up as, as an athlete, I am used to training my body so it responds when I ask something of it. With this condition, my body does what the bloody hell it likes and I have very limited control over it. But I am starting to see patterns in it and becoming aware of its triggers and also some little fixes, so hopefully going forward I will just learn to live with it and ignore it. I hasten to add, the cardiologist I saw was privately through the Nuffield.... I am still waiting to se an NHS cardiologist after being referred on 9th April this year as an "urgent" case... which I think highlights the shocking state of our health system currently. 

So, that boring tedious health gubbins aside, this weekend just gone I lined up for my first multisport race since the European champs in Bilbao in September 2022. As we have pretty much been plagued by illness ever since then, all the ambitions I had for the 2023 season had to be jettisoned: no Euro sprint champs in Venice; no world champs in Ibiza; no half-iron triathlon in North Wales; no Euro champs standard distance qualifier at Thruxton. None of it. I was ill for every single one of these events. So I left signing up for the Devon Duathlon (a qualification race for the 2024 Euros) until the last minute. I almost didn't do it as I knew I had done such little training (just 2 bike rides outside on the actual road this entire year and very very few wattbike sessions in which my watts were down by around 40 - 50!), and a few slow 9m/m plods and the occasional parkrun. Hardly perfect race prep! But my husband encouraged me as he pointed out that for years I have had to travel hundreds of miles to attend qualifiers in Nottingham, Cambridgeshire, Derbyshire, Hampshire etc, and now finally we have a qualifying race in Devon, and in East Devon just 7 miles from my house no less, and I am considering not bothering! Truth be told, I was nervous to sign up to a local race for fear of being crap! Yes, there are reasons for that, but, for me, I would feel the pressure to perform and so maybe I'd rather not bother than trail in behind athletes that I am capable of beating when in good health and better trained. My husband said that this was my ego talking and to man up and get on with it and who cares what other people think as I know the truth. Sound advice! My phsyio and long-time supporter, Nigel Wilman, also pointed out that I am notoriously hard on myself, so when he asked where he thought I was at, and I said 70% fit, he said in reality that is probably more like 80-90% and I will probably still manage to pull of an age group win.... I lacked his faith and him saying that put a whole load more pressure on me to perform! But you only need top 4 to qualify and I hoped that I could do enough for that at least.

Race day and, thanks to waking up with a bucket load of pre-race nerves and adrenaline, my dysautonomia went totally batshit crazy and gave me the most erratic heart rate readings I've had since when I first got hit with this in the initial aftermath of covid in April this year. 125bpm just sat in the car driving to the race! In fact, I spent the entire morning in training zones 1 and 2, just having breakfast, getting dressed, doing all the normal life activities. My training zones are meaningless when my heart goes off piste like this! In warm up I felt comfy, though a heart rate of 180bpm suggested otherwise. I just try to ignore it and trust that it will settle. 

Off on the first run and I feel comfortable, tailing friend and local age group competitor Emilie Brock. I know she is in great shape at the moment and honestly, I wouldn't have expected to be able to stay with her, so when she isn't pulling away, I figure I am doing ok.... but can I hang on?! There is an interesting off road section through Woodbury Common, which is pebbly and muddy and rather dicey when wearing Nike Alpha Flys! Into T1 neck and neck with Emilie. Onto the bike and off on a rather technical, hilly, wet and pot-holey bike course. A lot of competitors later said that they considered it a dangerous route and not really suitable for a GB qualifying race, but I think for those of us who live and train on these Devonshire roads, it is just what we are used to, so I didn't actually find it that bad! Again, I found myself trailing in Emilie's wake for the entire length of the bike. I would draw her back on the uphills, and she would pull ahead again on the downhill sections. We arrived into and left T2 together. We didn't know if there were any other vet 40 ladies up ahead of us, but in fact there weren't and we were actually competing against each other for 1st and 2nd spot. I haven't done any brick sessions at all, so the last time I ran off a bike was in Bilbao in September 2022! So it took my legs a little while to work into their rhythm, but once they did I found myself feeling stronger and my pace picked up as the run went on. Coming back into the grounds of Bicton College, Em and I are still neck and neck. My "sprint finish" is never to be relied on as my fast twitch muscles gave up twitching about 10 years ago, so I went for a sustained push from about 200m out. Luckily I got a gap and crossed the line as 1st vet 40 and 6th female overall, just 5 seconds ahead of Em. Both of us therefore comfortably qualified for a spot on the GB sprint team. 

Whilst I was overjoyed with the result, which was far better than I would have expected given all my health setbacks this year, it also left me wondering what I could achieve if only I could have better health on my side. To think I managed 6th overall in a strong women's field on the back of no quality training and a year of endless bugs and fatigue is both encouraging but also frustrating. The location and date of the Euro champs has yet to be announced, but I just hope we have a better winter on the germ front and I am able to finally string some consistent training together to get fit for it. I might be able to wing a category win at a qualifying race on no preparation, but I won't be able to medal on the same appraoch!

Thanks go as always to my amazing phsyio Nigel of Honiton Physio. My body doesn't respond well to enforced illness layoffs as residual weaknesses and postpartum niggles start to creep back in, so it's thanks to him and his expertise that I have been able to keep on top of those. 

Next up, hopefully some fun off-road races in the build up to Christmas, then assess my goals for next year once the details of the champs are announced. 

40 not out! (But the night watchman's padding up...)

 A couple of weeks ago I turned 40. Yuck. 30 was quite exciting, heralding the true start of proper ‘adulting’ (home ownership, marriage, kids etc). At 40 I’ve now deduced that adulting isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. It's rewarding, sure, but bugger me is it stressful, relentless and knackering! Furthermore, my best sporting years could well be behind me and this could potentially be life’s halfway point, given the as yet unknown length of innings I may have. I mean, age is but a number etc etc and I am far from “past it”, but I have noticed that recovery takes longer these days than when I took up running just over a decade ago; niggles are harder to ignore and run through as they are want to turn into full blown injuries; and generally I fatigue more easily and so cannot cope with the same volume or intensity of training that I once could. It’s hard to know whether much of this just is down to age or the fact that I am a busy Mum to a 4 year old and a 2 year old, the latter not being a terrific sleeper, and so a full night’s sleep has not featured in my recovery plan since pre-children in early 2019! I also no longer get the luxury of putting my feet up on the sofa after a race or hard session: it’s a case of jump in the shower and resume parenting as quickly as possible as the Mum-guilt is already kicking in at having abandoned them for an hour!

Then let’s talk about health issues and doctors visits: the older you get, the more of them there are! A particular recent health scare arose following a bout of covid in March. I felt fine with it at the time but about a week later, following a 13 mile trail run across Woodbury Common, I started experiencing ventricular ectopics (palpitations, essentially). Everyone gets these, many have a couple a day that go unnoticed, but having a high ectopic burden (too damn many of them!) can weaken the heart muscle and its pump function over time. 12 weeks on and I have been having continuous ectopics every 2, 3 or 5 beats that aren’t abating, so I am currently undergoing cardiology investigations to determine if something needs to be done about them (an ablation). I also suffered from an extremely high heart rate for the first 6 weeks following covid. My usual resting h/r is around 42bpm, a walk pace would be 80-90bpm, easy run 130bpm, all out 5k race pace 180bpm. In the 6 weeks post-covid I was at 55bpm resting, 130bpm just pottering around the house, 165bpm walking and over 200bpm at an easy run…. Needless to say, I didn’t attempt to race on this to find out the dizzy heights I might have reached! Anyway, the cardiologist suspects this is a form of post-covid dysautonomia and not actually a cardiac issue. A cardiac echo confirmed that my heart remains structurally sound. The solution? Most likely, time. Like many post-covid issues, you just have to let it run its course and hope that that course isn’t too damn long. The important thing is, if it wasn’t for my Garmin or being wired up to ECGs, I wouldn’t be aware of this high heart rate. I feel the same and it doesn’t feel like it is beating any faster. Jolly good as it means I have resumed racing and don’t feel too different or perform any differently (having had a month off all exercise and the ensuing drop in fitness accounted for), so the ectopics are clearly not too much of an immediate problem to my heart function. Not going to lie though, it was a worrying few months and it did make me question what would be my "me thing" if I could no longer run / cycle / perform to the level I have grown accustomed to. I mean, I could take up golf I suppose, but I doubt it would give the same endorphin release and, moreover, it’s too bloody time consuming!

Anyway, enough of the negativity. There are plus points to being 40: bottom end of a new 5 year age block for competing at age-group events; potential to win age group prizes in local races as well as top 3 overall; having the knowledge and conviction to do what works best for you and not be swayed by others: this applies both in sport and in life in general. A prime sporting example is that I now know that my legs do not handle speed work, so I simply don’t do it. I do the occasional hills session and a weekly parkrun at tempo pace to get into the anaerobic training zone. I also don’t do high volume sessions or high mileage as I simply don’t have the time. I do a daily set of specific strength exercises prescribed by my amazing physio, Nigel Wilman of Honiton Physio, to target my weak areas and make me more robust. This compensates for any lack of endurance training to ensure I can hold my form even when fatiguing towards the end of a race.

And so, to some recent race results. Up until May I hadn’t raced since the Templer 10 mile in November 2022. I was meant to do the Tough Runner Exeter Epic Trail at Escot in March, but it got cancelled with less than 48 hours notice. Over 4 months on and still absolutely no updates sent out on a rescheduled date, despite my three emails to the organiser to be told three times: “an update will be sent out in the next couple of weeks”. Still waiting. Seriously, a money-grabbing commercial outfit that doesn’t give a buggers about the runners. The thieving sods have pocketed my £28 and are away laughing. I digress…. Recent races. I’ve done three:

The Uplowman 10k in May. An undulating road race near Tiverton. A fabulously organised, cheap to enter event by Tiverton Harriers (Tough Runner could learn a few things here). I finished as 1^st lady in 41:10. Not bad considering this was following my full month off any training with the post-covid heart issues. My legs felt zippy and rested and full of running. It was a pleasing result.

Shiver Me Timbers 10 mile trail race in June. A coastal path race from Goodrington Sands to Brixham and back. Again, superbly organised and a beautiful trail route. The combination of distance (I don’t run over 6 miles in training) plus hills made this a challenge. The hot, humid weather didn’t help either! So I set off conservatively with another lady and we ran together for the first 3 miles. We then took a wrong turn as an arrow had been moved and added on an extra ¼ or so of a mile. The lady then pulled ahead and I was happy to settle in for a comfortable 2^nd place, finished 10 minutes ahead of the 3^rd lady. Finish time of 1h29, averaging 8:50m/m pace for 10 miles with 1500ft elevation.

Charnmouth Challenge fell race in July: my first race in the new vet 40 category. A coastal path challenge from Charmouth taking in 3 major climbs, including an ascent of Golden Cap – the highest point on the south-west coast path. 8 miles with 1700ft of ascent. I led the lady’s race up the first climb but as we topped out at Stonebarrow another lady pulled up on side and then put major time into me as we started to descend. I love a hill…. but I am pretty shit at running down them! She was then away and gone and I dug in for 2^nd place and comfortably first vet 40 (gotta take these old person wins now!). An average pace of 8:40m/m was an improvement on the Shiver Me Timbers race, given the increased elevation. I was pretty knackered by the end; it was another hot day and I don’t have the endurance to cope in the latter stages of these long races, so a fair bit of walking occurred on the final climb!

Next up? Snowdon International Race. 10 miles / 3000ft of climb. I have done this race twice before (2011 in 1h36m and 2015 on honeymoon, after being up all night violently puking with food poisoning from mussles(!) in 1h59). I’m now older, not as fit, not as well trained and having heart issues! My main aim will be to survive!

And of course, Saturdays wouldn't be Saturdays without a parkrun fix. Today's, celebrating the NHS@75 (which my husband proudly works for) was at Longrun Meadow in Taunton where I finished as 1st lady in 19:59. I've now done 314 parkruns at 74 different venues. It's the official start to the Dominey family weekend. The choice of location now gets swayed more by the quality of play park near the finish line than the quality of the post-run coffee, but hey ho, a Mum can't have everything!

"Come on chaps, keep up"!!! ;-) 

Thanks as always to Nigel at Honiton Phsyio for helping me keep on top of my niggles. Some pregnancy induced weaknesses crept back in in the enforced month I had off with the post-covid heart issues, so I have been paying him many visits and the combo of a well-placed knuckle in a strategic place plus strength, flexibility and activation exercises have enabled me to keep on top of the problems. 

European Sprint Duathlon champion 2022!

Went to Bilbao with bike, double buggy, two children, toys, bedding, baby monitors, clothing, bike kit, beach kit, sparkly unicorns, the kitchen sink,  you name it. Came back with all these things and a shiny gold medal! I can hardly believe it. 

In truth, I’m not entirely sure what outcome I expected going into the European Sprint Duathlon Championships in Bilbao, or what result I would have been happy with, but it’s safe to say that the gold medal was not something I had entertained as a realistic target. Maybe I could have dared to dream I could sneak a bronze if I got lucky on the day, but to better my silver from the Europeans in 2017, when I was footloose, child-free, not sleep-deprived and knackered, my weekly training volume was around 3 times more than it is now and when recovery was actually a thing too, well, it’s just not something I would have thought achievable given my current circumstances.

-      My second child is NOT a sleeper. She is 19 months old and has never once slept through the night (save just the one random night at about 8 weeks old)

-      I never allow my sport to come before my children, so I make sure my training sessions don’t go over the hour as I just feel bad for being apart from them for any longer than that

-      My second child still breastfeeds 6 times a day, so being apart from her for long periods is not an option

These are all very much my choices and so the fact that I was able to win the gold despite not prioritising training for this event to the extent I would have done in my pre-baby days just makes this race outcome all the more special.

And the championships were sooooooo amazing. Spain really know how to put on an event and to do it slickly, professionally but also with a party atmosphere. The course was fantastic, with the runs taking you in front of the Guigenheim and even running through the iconic spider installation outside it: quite a novelty! The bike suited me perfectly as it was hilly – basically 1000ft up over the first 10k, then 1000ft down over the second 10k. It was a draft legal bike race but drafting on a hill isn’t always feasible as you find that riders are either climbers and so don’t need the benefit of a draft, or they are powerhouses for the flat and so get dropped quickly on any hill. I am most definitely a climber! I was lying in second after the first 5k run, 15 seconds off the pace. On paper, the girl I was trailing is by far a better runner than me, having recently run several sub 18 minute 5ks. I haven’t broken 19 minutes since 2016 so to be only 15 seconds adrift after the 5k run was far better than I would have predicted. I caught her early on on the bike, on the short flat section out of the city, and latched onto her wheel. We were very evenly matched on the bike, both on the flat, uphill and downhill section. At the final dead turn on the course, less than 1km from dismounting for T2, we were still together, so I knew I had to push on now to make a break as if it came down to the run, I’d be running for silver, not gold. I got a gap and a faster T2 gave me a 30 second lead heading out onto the final 2.7k run. 

Run by the river

Bike course

The hilly but stunning bike course from the fenicular

I always run well off a bike, despite having done no brick sessions in training like I used to. The jelly legged feeling initially was ghastly – I haven’t competed at a triathlon or a duathlon since 2019 so it’s a feeling I’m simply not used to! – but I trusted that it would wear off and I would soon establish a rhythm. 2.7k is not much time to hang on, even if you’re knackered, so you just have to dig in. In truth, I was hurting. I am not used to pushing my body these days. I haven’t raced multisport for 3 years and even though I do frequent parkruns and occasional trail races, I never go “all in” at them, so I mentally geared myself up to embrace the pain, knowing that I’d need to commit fully from the gun and accept that yes it will hurt, but it is a short-lived hurt compared to the everlasting rewards that come with victory. When things get tough and I find myself wanting to back off I go to my manta “no one wants this more than me” and find that helps me refocus, regroup and push on again. 

I was pretty confident I was in contention for a medal on that final run as I’d only seen about 4 or 5 females ahead of me on the dead-turns on the bike course and I knew that some of those were in much younger age groups. Crossing the line to be announced as the 35-39 category winner (6th female overall out of all age groups) was a win for me but also for my children, my husband and my parents who all support me in pursuing my sporting interests. It was extra special to share the win with my children and to hopefully inspire them, even though they were both fast asleep in their buggy when I crossed the line! They did watch, cheer, wave flags and ring cowbells to support me on the course though and they looked super cute in their #Dom-squad support crew tees I had made for them!

Blue carpet finish line feels

Dom-squad support crew

Golden girl! Podium moment

We made a holiday of the event and stayed for a full week in a lovely apartment just outside of Bilbao in Getxo, just 5 minutes from two absolutely stunning beaches. The weather was perfect, the food delicious (and cheap!), and so we were able to enjoy 5 days as a family afterwards.

 

The amazing beach in Getxo just 5 mins walk from our apartment

The iconic Guigenheim and spider that we ran under on the run

View of city from top of the bike course

I have to stress that this victory is also dedicated to my amazing physio and sponsor, Nigel Wilman of Honiton Physio. I am injury prone, always have been, but the birth of my second child absolutely obliterated my body and left me unable to walk. When I limped, wincing in pain, into Nigel’s treatment room in March 2020, a month after giving birth, still in agony with my hip semi-dislocating itself with every step, I could not have dreamed that competitive sport just over a year later would have been possible. At that time I would just have taken being able to walk pain free so I could push a buggy and enjoy time outdoors with my toddler. It is all down to Nigel’s expertise and knowledge that I found myself physically in a position to be able to compete on an international stage once again. I cannot thank him or recommend him enough.

Thank you Nigel and Honiton Physio for skillfully fixing my broken parts!

And next? Well, my body is pretty knackered but I am gearing up to go again this coming Sunday at the Thruxton Mass Attack Duathlon which is a qualifying race for the 2023 World Duathlon Championships in Ibiza. Truth be told, I am not mentally raring to race, but I figure I just need to do enough to qualify (top 4 in age group) and I don’t need to go all out and win it to achieve that goal. Then after that I am having a break from the bike for a bit as winter cycling isn’t my thing and I just want to enjoy some low-key trail races for a bit with no pressure. Then we will reassess plans in the New Year.

You can run but you can't hide...

…. And now you can’t run because you picked up Covid, most likely picked it up whilst in fact running at a race.

After trying to outrun Covid for 2 1/2 years, it's finally got me. On Saturday I did the Otter Rail and River 10k multi terrain race. I had a decent run and finished as 1^st lady by 4 full minutes. I won this race in 2012, a decade ago, in 42:11, so to be only a minute slower ten years and two babies on, and in blisteringly hot conditions this year was a real confidence boost. I was on a post-race high. Three days later, Tuesday, I awake to a throat being slashed by razor blades, a snotty nose and general achiness, and this is why….

Balls....

Covid positive. Not bad going holding out for this long to get it considering that I have a one and a three year old who only have to enter a softplay / park / similar germ-festooned environment and deem that sampling every grotty surface within the place with a good lick is just as key as sampling the slides etc. We have had almost every other bug going this past year, including the ghastly strep throat infection we suspect our three year old picked up by licking the fence surrounding the elephant enclosure at Chester Zoo... But now I can finally say I’m part of the Covid crew. I think I might have got it from the runner guy I was chasing up a single track wooded section at the race. He was continually coughing, spluttering and firing snot rockets my way, so gentlemanly to share this germs with me. It’s the only place I can think I got it as we haven’t been anywhere else in close contact with people for the past week.

 In a way it’s probably best that I get it now as at least I have time to get over it and resume a bit of training before the European duathlon champs, which are in two months time. It's probably also good to get it and finally get it out of the way as, truth be told, I have been living in partial fear of it all this time and probably the fear of getting it is worse than actually getting it. Before this struck, training was going well. I use the word “training” in the loosest possible sense as all I really do these days is shoe-horn runs and rides in whenever I get the chance. A fellow triathlon friend recently asked what plan I was following and I just had to laugh! The “get out the door whenever I can get childcare” plan is basically as methodical as it gets these days! I don’t do brick sessions, I haven’t tested my FTP since pre-baby number two and so have no idea of my numbers on the bike. My run “sessions” are the weekly parkrun in which I put in a bit of effort, but all other runs are done at an easy pace to avoid injury. I swam 20 lengths after taking my daughter swimming the other day and that was the first and only swim I have done since September 2020. To be honest, I don’t even know if I can justify writing a blog about my sporting endeavors anymore as all I seem to be able to write about is what I don’t do rather than what I do!! So, to try and focus on some positives, here goes:

 

I have got my parkrun 5k time down to 19:22 and run several sub 20 minute times now.

I won the Otter Rail and River Run 10k in a time of 43:36 – a win by 4 full minutes and only just a shade over a minute slower than my winning time from 2012 when I was a decade younger and ran 50 miles a week (as opposed to a maximum of 20 now on a very good week)

Although I haven’t tested my FTP I know by my Wattbike workouts that my bike fitness has improved from the watts I am putting out versus heart rate etc.

Apart from a brief relapse of my sciatic nerve / back problem, I have been managing injuries for a year now and been able to run fairly consistently week on week

 So these are all positives. I just hope that covid doesn’t set me back too much and I can fit a good few weeks of training in and, who knows, maybe even a brick session or two, before we head out to Spain for the champs on 17^th September.

 Thanks as ever to Nigel Wilman at Honiton Physio for keeping my injuries at bay. I see Nigel for regular maintenance sessions and I also see Laura, who works At Honiton Physio, for sports massage sessions now too. I know I am injury prone and so pre-emptive physio and being diligent with my strengthening exercises are as important as the running and biking.

Otter Rail and River pics...

Just like old times... running with former club mate, Dave, of Exmouth Harriers

Cracking out the crop top despite the Mum-tum as it was scorchio!

Winner winner - great prizes. A hamper from a local farm shop!