Weymouth Middle Distance Triathlon & Not Being a Pillock - ADIDAS

Weymouth Middle Distance Triathlon is one of my faves. It’s always a toughie as the sea - which  looks like glass from the shore is unpredictable and the bike is hilly and the unshaded run is almost always hot. But I love it. It’s a good test of training and mental resilience. And of my ability to eat 4 gels without crying. Note: last year I failed at the not crying. But I DID eat the gels. 

This year, though? My swim and bike fitness have taken a slight knock. And by knock, I mean they’ve packed their bags, left a note, and haven’t been seen since last August. I’ve been running instead. It’s simple and it doesn’t require lugging half a garage of gear every time I travel for work. Trainers and go. Perfect.

As a result, Weymouth triathlon despite looming ever closer, was never really on my planning radar except all of a sudden it was here. And so was I. With my bike which had been sat on soft tyres and my wetsuit still hung up from the last open water swim. 

There had also been a stomach upset issue for a few days on the previous week. I’d had a beautiful test run in Weymouth on the Saturday but things didn’t feel right. The views were lovely but my tummy was grumpy. I decided to call whether I did it or not on the morning, with the decision already made about dropping it down from middle distance to sprint distance. 

Doing a long event when you're not feeling 100% or on not enough training isn’t being a hero, it’s being a pillock. I don’t want to be a pillock so a short swim, short bike and a 5km run sounded like more manageable distances. I reckoned I could get through an hour or so of a triathlon without incident.

But waking up at 0500hrs on the morning of the race, I wasn't feeling it. I get excited before my events, but I was dreading having to get into the sea. This wasn't like me, so I made the decision to skip this one. 

Triathlon will wait. There will always be another one. 

So instead, I went on an ADVENTURE RUN!

Because if things went horribly wrong mid-run, I could always call a taxi. Whereas in the triathlon, I couldn't exactly hail an Uber from the middle of the bay. 

Armed with my very reliable (cough) Garmin, I plotted a route through all the places I fancied seeing. I ran along Weymouth Promenade, picked up the Rodwell Trail (a gorgeous disused railway path), past Sandsfoot Castle and the Dripping Well, across Chesil Beach to Portland, then hopped onto the South West Coast Path for some gorgeous but brutal running.

I ran through Tout Quarry Sculpture Park, where Old Roy—an enormous stone creature with stone eyeballs woven into his fur (an old Portland legend) almost made me jump out of my skin.

 Then, the route popped me out by St George’s Church — a disused, beautiful church built of the grey Portland stone. I wandered around the gravestones and found the bomb crater which had been turned into a memorial of the headstones destroyed by the bomb.

I still wasn’t feeling 100%, but there were no pace goals, no finish lines to chase, just curiosity and sunshine. I even stopped at Portland Museum and spent a happy hour looking at shipwreck artefacts and dinosaur bones. You don’t get that in transition.

Of course, no Booker run is complete without a detour through brambles and bad decisions. I attempted a 'shortcut' into what turned out to be a thorny tunnel that ended in a chain-link fence. Cue a bit (lot) of muttering and some scrambling to get out of the thorny tunnel. Why I had thought there might be a path at the end of a bramble patch which I LITERALLY had to crawl through, I have no idea. Lessons. 

From bramble patch to prison and I passed the famous grey stones of Portland prison, then descended what might actually be the steepest hill in Britain. My quads are still holding a grudge. At the bottom, I chatted with a lovely local runner around the marina who was flying along and I carried on exploring.

Then I got stung by a bee on Chesil Beach (not a euphemism). It was breezy, it panicked, I panicked, it ended up in my top and someone got stung (me). I felt a bit bad. I like bees but it had stung me before I had even realised it was trapped so didn't have a chance to rescue it.

Sorry bee.

I stopped at the Dripping Well, where the sunlight slanted through the trees and the drops of water glittered in the light. It felt peaceful. And magical. And I felt slightly less sting-y.

Sixteen miles later, I rolled back into Weymouth. Tired, sun-kissed, salt-sweaty and absolutely chuffed. I met Mum and Auntie Jen at the beach for a cider and an ice cream, like a true athlete. Fuelling, innit.

Moral of my story?

Listen to your body. Don’t be a pillock. And sometimes, ditching the race number is the best race day decision you can make.

Triathlon can wait. But adventures? They’re always ready when you are.

NOTE: I'm lucky enough to have been approached by ADIDAS who have invited me to be a part of their Blogger Community. This means I get to link up with other like-minded bloggers (which I take to mean other snack-obsessed runners) and they give me some ADIDAS vouchers to write my blogs … which I do anyway! Sounds like an absolute win to me!

I'm doing nothing different except adding some links to ADIDAS kit that I'm looking at getting with my vouchers and which I think you might also like!

If you want to take a peek at the kit, the links are here:

Women's Kit:

Womens Tracksuits 

Womens Hoodies 

Womens Walking Boots & Hiking Boots 

Waterproof Trainers 

Womens Black Trainers 

Men's Kit:

Mens Hoodies 

Mens tracksuits 

Mens walking shoes 

Dreaming of Footpaths Named One of the Top 20 Running Mum Blogs!

I’ve got some exciting news to share today — Dreaming of Footpaths has been named one of the Top 20 Running Mom Blogs on the web by Feedspot! 

I was genuinely surprised (and very honoured!) to receive the email from Anuj Agarwal, the founder of Feedspot, letting me know that my blog had been selected by their panel as one of the best out there for running mums. As someone who juggles motherhood, shift work, and squeezing in as much triathlon and running training as possible, it feels incredibly special to be recognised alongside so many inspiring women who are doing the same.

When I started writing this blog, it was a place to share the highs and lows of training, racing, and dreaming of footpaths while navigating everything that life throws at me. I never imagined it would grow into something that connects me with such a brilliant community of fellow runners, mums, and dreamers.

Being listed as one of Feedspot’s Top 20 Running Mom Blogs is not just a milestone — it’s a lovely reminder of how powerful it is to share our stories. Whether it’s fitting in 5Ks after bedtime, marathon training with a buggy in tow, or just trying to get out the door some days, we’re all doing something amazing.

If you’re new here — welcome! You can follow along on Instagram and other platforms (check the sidebar or links above). And if you’re one of the many incredible running mums out there reading this — thank you for being part of this community. Let’s keep showing the world that mums can absolutely run the world (and a few finish lines too).

Thank you again, Feedspot, for the recognition — I’ll proudly be displaying the badge on the blog and socials soon!

Here’s to more miles, more stories, and many more muddy trainers.

Long Course Weekend 2024: Chafed at Both Ends, Jellyfish-Stung and Slightly Overcooked

Long Course Weekend is three days of swimming, biking, and running in the beautiful (read: brutal) Welsh countryside. I've done this event before and if I've learned one thing from it, it's that no matter how well I think I've trained, this event will school me in how well I HAVEN'T trained. It's basically a weekend of “Choose Your Suffering.” Over Ironman distance.

Swim: A lesson in Appalling Navigation and Jellyfish Wrangling

First lesson of the weekend was 'Don’t save your wee for the wetsuit'. I'd had a dicey tummy since the my poor choice of pizza from a street vendor for my pre-swim dinner. It had tasted lovely at the time, but judging from the gargling down below it wasn't being appreciated by my stomach. It's a bit of a joke that triathletes and swimmers 'warm up' their wetsuits by having a sneaky wee in them before the swim. Standing on the sand waiting for the go, I DID need a wee – quite badly in fact – but my stomach was making noises that sounded like a donkey and squid fighting. I wasn't brave enough to allow anything downstairs to be unleashed into my wetsuit in case it was all systems go.

I did NOT want to be the girl that ran into the sea leaving diarrhoea footprints behind her. I've heard of running from your mistakes, but I reckoned half the pizza and my stomach contents would still be in the wetsuit with me. 

I spent the entire swim with stomach cramps and a newfound appreciation for the phrase “when nature calls.” Nature was calling and I was trying desperately to silence those calls. 

The sea definitely had some swell and while it wasn't as bad as my swim in Spain a couple of years previously, it was still very much a case of being thrown around and not in the direction I was planning on going which was towards the next buoy. I'd also had a bit of a knock in the face from a flailing arm. Not my arm. The swim was fun though but it wouldn't be a fast swim. I quite like a challenging swim so I settled in and tried to make progress. And then I spotted the jellyfish. Ugh. They're basically the spiders of the sea but slimy and with a hatred of stupid-looking humans swimming in their manor. Me. I was the stupid-looking human swimming in their patch. I got a couple of stings but it felt like nettle stings, not too awful. There was no avoiding them. 

I managed the first lap, sighting on the last section of land, then just off the red lifeboat roof, then the gap in the house roofs and then a run along the sand before plunging back into the foamy white waves again.

The first stretch out to the first buoy seemed to take ages again, but I was sighting back on the gap in the houses before I knew it and swimming into the sand on the beach before pulling myself up and running on damp, shifting sand towards the finish arch. 

My swim buddy, who is usually a little slower, emerged 20 seconds ahead of me instead of the expected 15 minutes behind. Either he had suddenly turned into Michael Phelps, had been doing some excellent training – or drugs! - or I had made some questionable swimming choices.

The sea had been choppy, but I'd felt like I was making reasonable progress… and maybe I had been. Except it turned out my “expert” sighting had me swimming 4.5km instead of 3.8km. I might have been swimming quickly (for me) but I hadn't been swimming in the right direction. And my swimming buddy had had a cracking swim. Bloody good for him.

Although I hadn't shit in my wetsuit either so bloody good for me too.

Possible reasons for my extended tour of the ocean:

✅ Pre-swim pizza (but didn't soil my wetsuit – hooray!)

✅ Poor sighting (although I swear I was on track … clearly I took a scenic route)

✅ A jellyfish sting or two (glad I was wearing a full-length wetsuit!)

✅ Getting smacked in the face, knocking my goggles askew and filling them with seawater  (Meh … standard triathlon swim)

✅ All of the above

On the bright side, at least I made it through the bad sea conditions. A third of the field didn’t finish, and I - despite my scenic detour and questionable bladder control - made it to the finish arch. Which I was very grateful for.

Also, I had fish & chips with curry sauce afterwards, which made everything better. Even the stomach was pleased.

Bike: Chafed at Both Ends

The alarm went off at 05:00hrs because why sleep when you can get up and prepare for a 112-mile bike ride with the lingering taste of seawater in your mouth? And a stripe of jellyfish stings across your neck and forehead.

Breakfast included eggs, toast, and a fresh burn from the baking tray. Good start. At least the welt on my hand matched the ones on my face and neck from the jellyfish. 

The bike course was stunning and savage. Wiseman’s Bridge still felt like a wall, but Saundersfoot? A WALL OF PEOPLE. Drummers. Cheering. Kids with cowbells. Honestly, I’d consider cycling up hills more often if I got this kind of fanfare every time.

We also met up with buddies from last year – what were the chances! So a nice catch up and a chatter made the miles go faster too.

Things I learned on the bike:

✅ The Welsh people are incredible supporters. One guy was there cheering at 6:30hrs and still there at noon. Absolute legend.

✅ Rich decided to go full Tour de France and race for KOM up Saundersfoot… 40 miles before the finish. What could possibly go wrong? (Answer: everything.)

✅ Bacon rolls at the first aid station, chips at the second. 10/10, no notes.

✅ I tried new food strategies instead of just inhaling sugar: mini sausage rolls, egg bites, salted nuts, ginger cake. Surprisingly effective, but sandwich bags are a menace.

Of course, there were some downsides. Like the suncream making my already chafed neck worse and the realization that I was now chafed at both ends. A human-shaped dog toy, but with more salt and regret.

Also, at mile 98, my cycling buddy's legs fully gave up. I politely refrained from reminding him about Saundersfoot. For about 30 seconds. Then, obviously, I reminded him.

The final miles were a blur of granny gears, shouting at Rich to stay on my wheel, and rolling under the finish arch together. Woo! Bike Day Done!!

Run: Soggy, Humid and Squashed Snakes

The plan was simple: run at Ironman goal pace. The execution? Slightly less simple.

I made the classic mistake of setting my watch to average pace, rather than current pace which meant that after the first few hills, I spent the next several miles trying to correct it. Idiot move. By the time I figured it out, the middle miles felt harder than necessary.

Other notable moments:

✅ Wayne paced me for a bit—until he saw a buddy, abandoned me, then caught up and pushed the pace. Thanks, Wayne.

✅ It was weirdly humid. Everyone was drenched, sweat wasn’t evaporating, and I was very glad for my visor.

✅ A squashed snake on the road at the top of a hill. Not a small one, either. Absolutely no need for that.

✅ Ran past the cottage. I'd rented for the weekend It had thick white walls, high sash windows, a sloping kitchen ceiling, and a distinct lack of jellyfish. 10/10, would stay again.

✅ A place called Skrinkle. Sounds like an undiscovered sea creature.

At mile 18, I finally found my legs. Suddenly, the miles ticked by quickly, and counting down gels became a motivational game. Banoffee and black cherry yogurt Torq gels = solid choices. Energy Bytes caffeine sweets? Absolute treat.

The morning was overcast and drizzly, but halfway through, the sun made an appearance—along with mist rolling off the sea, making it all feel very cinematic.

Crossed the line as the 23rd woman out of 75 finishers—and out of 171 female starters. 67 DNFs.  Reckon I was 2nd or 3rd in AG. This race does not mess around.

Final Thoughts: The Art of Suffering with Style

LCW 2024 was a rollercoaster of chafing, dodgy stomachs and scenic detours. But despite the jellyfish, questionable pacing, and my bike basically becoming a medieval torture device, I had an absolute blast.

Would I do it again? Absolutely. Would I make better decisions? Probably not.

But hey—if you’re going to suffer, at least do it with good snacks and a sense of humour. And a few good stories. 

How Sleep Fuels Performance: The Key to Recovery and Success - Sponsored Content

* I have been sent a mattress by Simba to try free of charge and have posted this blog post as a thank you *

How sleep fuels performance: the key to recovery and success

Sleep deprivation can significantly impact athletic performance, slowing reaction times, reducing endurance, and hindering recovery. Simba Sleep, renowned for its innovative Hybrid® mattresses, is committed to enhancing sleep quality with advanced design and materials. Prioritising rest isn’t just about feeling refreshed, it’s a critical factor in achieving peak performance, both physically and mentally.

The overlooked factor in athletic performance

When striving to improve athletic performance, most athletes focus on training, nutrition, and recovery methods such as stretching or ice baths. But one crucial factor is often neglected, quality sleep.

Lisa Artis, Deputy CEO of Simba’s charity partner, The Sleep Charity, highlights its importance: “Prioritising quality rest is not just a luxury; it’s a necessity for physical, mental, and emotional well-being. Athletes who optimise their sleep see significant improvements in performance, recovery, and injury prevention.”

She further emphasises: “Lack of sleep increases levels of cortisol, the stress hormone, which can negatively affect muscle recovery and endurance. Ensuring adequate rest is just as important as training itself.”

Whether you're a professional athlete or someone looking to improve your fitness, quality rest can give you the edge you need. Here’s why sleep should be a non-negotiable part of your routine.

Faster recovery and stronger muscles

After a long run, your muscles need time to repair and grow. This process primarily occurs during deep sleep. 

Lisa Artis adds: “Deep sleep is the body's natural recovery phase. Without it, your muscles remain fatigued, increasing the risk of injury and delaying improvements in strength and performance.”

Without enough sleep, your body struggles to rebuild muscle, leading to prolonged recovery, increased soreness, and a higher risk of injury. Deep, restorative sleep ensures your body is ready to take on the next mile.

Sharper focus and faster reactions

In competitive sports, split-second decisions can make or break a game. Whether it’s reacting to an opponent’s move, maintaining precision, or strategising on the go, your brain needs to perform at its best.

Lisa Artis, explains: “Lack of sleep reduces vigilance, alertness, and focus, making it harder to perform tasks that require sustained attention. This can be a serious disadvantage in both training and competition.”

Sleep deprivation impacts cognitive function in a way similar to alcohol consumption. Reaction times slow, decision-making suffers, and concentration declines, none of which are ideal for an athlete aiming to perform at their best. By getting enough sleep, you enhance cognitive function, reaction time, and decision-making ability, giving yourself the best chance of success.

Injury prevention and coordination

Fatigue leads to poor coordination, slower reflexes, and weakened muscle control, all of which increase the likelihood of injury. Research shows that athletes who average less than eight hours of sleep per night are 1.7 times more likely to experience an injury compared to those who sleep eight or more hours.

Lisa Artis stresses: “Sleep is when your body restores energy and repairs damaged tissues. Without it, balance and coordination suffer, increasing the risk of strains, sprains, and serious injuries.”

Getting sufficient rest means better control over your body, reducing the risk of sprains, strains, and missteps.

More energy and endurance

Sleep plays a vital role in regulating energy levels and stamina. Well-rested athletes efficiently store and utilise glycogen, the fuel muscles rely on during exercise. Sleep deprivation, on the other hand, leads to quicker exhaustion, making even routine workouts feel significantly harder.

Lisa Artis points out: “Your body relies on sleep to regulate energy expenditure. Athletes who consistently get high-quality sleep tend to have better stamina, endurance, and overall performance.”

A well-rested body functions optimally, ensuring endurance, strength, and motivation remain high throughout training and competition.

Why your mattress matters

Even if you prioritise sleep, its quality matters as much as its duration. An unsupportive mattress can cause discomfort, poor posture, and restless nights, all of which negatively impact muscle recovery and overall performance.

The Simba Hybrid® Mattress is designed for optimal support, featuring innovative Aerocoil® springs for full-body alignment and pressure relief. Its extra-deep Simbatex® foam adds elasticity for cushioning comfort, while the nine-zone foam base supports key areas like the hips and shoulders. Upgrading to a high-quality mattress improves sleep efficiency, reduces stiffness, and helps you wake up refreshed and ready to perform.

The bottom line

To train harder, perform better, and recover faster, sleep must be a top priority. Just like a solid training plan and balanced nutrition, quality rest is essential for peak performance. By prioritising deep, restorative sleep, you give your body the recovery it needs to stay strong, sharp, and ready for any challenge.

Investing in better sleep isn’t just about comfort, it’s about unlocking your full potential.

Weymouth Middle Distance Triathlon: Piss Poor Planning

Weymouth. A picturesque coastal town known for its sandy beaches, historic charm, and if you're me - mild dehydration, questionable race prep, and the ever-present threat of being taken out by some bellend, his tennis ball and his questionable hand-eye coordination.

The Recce: Rhododendrons, Winos, and an Alarming Lack of Hydration

Like any responsible triathlete, I recced the course beforehand. The bike route was beautiful. A fairytale dream: narrow lanes flanked by towering pink rhododendrons, National Trust signs hinting at picturesque parks and the ever-so-charming feature of four cattle grids. If you've never cycled over a cattle grid at speed, let me tell you it's a delightful mix of bone-rattling terror and regret.

My run route recce was unshaded and warm and involved laps of Lodmoor Country Park. On the recce, I passed two locals debating whether it was too early for a drink. Their conclusion? They weren't sure what time it was. Or what century they were in. For the record, it was 10:30 am. Apparently that was drinking time. 

Feeling smug at having recce'd the route and having prepped so well, I contemplated the sea swim course from a prone position in the sun on the beach. It was the perfect moment of seaside serenity as I lay back enjoying the sun and the gentle breeze. It was all so lovely. Until some bellend tried to play sand tennis approximately six feet away. His mother joined in. Neither of them possessed any discernible hand-eye coordination. I was hit once and almost hit six times. I discovered that it's very difficult to relax when you're dodging flying projectiles from Team Clueless. I retreated to the safety of the ice cream stand. Fuelling. 

Pre-Race Logistics: A Masterclass in Poor Planning

Two days in, I rechecked my accommodation booking to see whether breakfast was included and discovered that I had been staying in the wrong room. Apparently, Key Safe 3 was meant for Room 6. Oops. The downside of booking online and not having to meet the host I guess. And concerningly, the key had opened the door no issues. Oh well. I was in now so I guess this would be my room for the week. I'd better make sure I wedged the door closed in case of any unexpected check-ins!

This wasn't the only 'oops'. There was also the energy gel disaster. Having realised I only had two gels left in my stash, I made an emergency Boots The Chemist run. Feeling smug, I returned with my haul only to discover I had, in fact, bought hydration powder, not gels. Misleading packaging at its finest. With my race nutrition now reduced to a mix of pick 'n' mix sweets, we were truly in uncharted territory.

To top it off, I also realised there were no feed stations on the bike course and that I'd only brought one bottle. In 21°c heat. At least I was making all my rookie errors in the 70.3 rather than the full Ironman. Small mercies.

Race Morning: Please Don't Be a Nob and Don't Die

Up at 5:00 AM, out by 5:30, and a five-minute cycle along the promenade to the start. Perfection. The sea was millpond calm (unlike last year's washing machine simulation), and the pre-race briefing was refreshingly straightforward: Don't be a nob, don't die. Got it.

I also only just realised that the bike course was two laps after several reviews of the race briefing. Thank God for my new friend Suzanne mentioning it. Imagine the sheer embarrassment of rolling into transition one lap early, wondering why everyone was still out there.

Swim: The Battle of the Orange Hats

Positioned mid-pack, I hopped over the pebbles and into the water. The swim course was a funnel of yellow buoys, six equally orange buoys, and a field of athletes in orange swim caps. Ideal for sighting.

Despite this visual chaos, I found myself overtaking people. A truly unfamiliar sensation. There was no real opportunity to draft as everyone was pretty spread out.  A chap kept catching me up and then doing breaststroke to sight and gave me a right wallop in the head. Thanks, bud.

Exit strategy? Sight on the boat that looked like a teapot, then the theatre, then the random white house reflecting in the sun. Surprisingly effective sighting today!.

Simon, who I hadn't expected to turn up, was there cheering. Lovely surprise. Found my trainers under the last beach hut, laced them up, and embarked on the 7-minute run of hell back to transition. Shoe came undone. Classic Booker error.

Bike: The Cattle Grid Grand Prix

Wetsuit off (eventually after it clung like a limpet to one ankle which involved a dance to remove it), bike gear on, and out. 

First challenge? Surviving on 750ml of fluids. Second challenge? Not dying on the cattle grids.

The course was shaped like a balloon on a string - a six-mile out-and-back, followed by two loops of 22 miles. Within the first few miles: Osmington Hill, a pleasant little 5% gradient wake-up call a couple of kilometres long. The route itself was a mix of roads, tiny country lanes, dual carriageways and was quite a lumpy, choppy route.

There was a section near Bovington which was lined with rhododendrons, their unearthly pink purple startling in the shadows from the taller trees. It felt quite magical and almost faerie-like as if a mystical being might pop out and offer me an extra water bottle. (Alas, none did.)

Halfway through the bike, a marshal shouted, “You're 2nd woman!” I almost believed them until I remembered that halfway through the bike is always where dreams die.

Then came the tractor debacle. A single-track lane. A giant tractor that stopped every time it hit a tree branch. Me stuck behind it at about 10 miles an hour and no space to overtake. Finally, it turned off. Then a second, ancient red tractor that pulled out in front of me and then stopped, needing to turn right on an A-road, meaning I had to unclip and restart on a hill. Wow. It was all going so well. Sigh.

Bloody tractors.

Run: The Human Dehydration Experiment

Back into transition, off the bike, and into the run … and finally a drink station! Except it was on the opposite side of the run route and I wasn't allowed to cross the route for a drink. I had to run a full loop first to get to it. I could have CRIED. I felt like a raisin. Shrivelled up and dry. If I saw a small child with an ice lolly, I would quite HAPPILY have mugged them for it. I would have laughed as I swallowed it. NO REGRETS.

It was stupidly hot. Sunglasses and visor? Had been a good decision. Only one bottle on the bike? Very bad decision.

The course was two long laps, followed by two short laps, collecting a wristband at the end of each. The section along the Lodmoor cycle path felt endless, unshaded, and soul-destroying. Aid stations were my only salvation. Three cups of cola, two of energy drink and still thirsty.

By mile six, my carefully planned nutrition strategy had collapsed into desperation-fuelled pick n mix consumption. I had two energy gels, but given my shortage (thank you, Boots packaging), I was rationing them like a 19th-century explorer.

Legs were grumpy. Stomach was screaming at the sheer amount of sugar and energy drinks. Despite this, the laps ticked down, mostly because my brain had ceased to function beyond 'just keep running'.

L ran with me for a short stretch, which was lovely, though she always saw me post-aid station section, when I was walking and aggressively chugging drinks. Timing. I must have looked like the grumpiest hiker ever. 

Final lap. No sprint finish. Just utter relief to be done.

Final result? 5th female overall, 2nd in AG. Somehow.

What I'd Do Differently Next Time

* More bottles on the bike. Because being thirsty for 56 miles is not fun.

* Actual energy gels. Instead of trying to fuel a triathlon with Haribo.

* Practice getting my wetsuit off faster. Current technique resembles rubber eel wrestling.

* Make sure run shoes are done up properly. It would have taken me 10 seconds to double-knot it.

* Adjust my trisuit to avoid neck chafing. Because fashionable red raw necklines are not my thing.

Despite everything; the sand tennis attacks, the surprise two-lap bike course, the tractor delays, and the war on hydration, Weymouth Middle Distance was a success.

Would I do it again?

Ask me when I've fully rehydrated.