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

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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.

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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.

Ride London 2024: My Epic Ride Through Rain, Sausage Rolls, and a Dirt Tan

Ah, endurance events—the perfect blend of grit, determination, and the occasional existential crisis. This weekend’s adventure was a masterclass in how not to prepare for a long ride, complete with catastrophic weather, tech failures, and the comforting embrace of a Greggs sausage roll. Buckle up, folks; it was a journey.

You know when you're regretting all your life choices? It was 0400hrs and I was sat in a car on the M1 watching the windscreen wipers whip past on full speed while flood water splashed up the windows. 

And I was on the way to cycle 100 miles.

It'll be fine. FINE. 

I mean why wake up at 0300hrs to drive to an airport and fly somewhere warm on holiday when you could wake up at 0300hrs and drive to London and cycle in the pouring rain for 5 or 6 hours.

It'll be FINE.

I realised when I got to the start that my Garmin was almost as dead as my enthusiasm to cycle 100 miles in floods and a headwind. 10% battery. Yeah, that'll be ok for 100 miles and 6 hours of cycling, right? 

It'll be FINE.

I'd also brought my water bottles empty as I didn't want them to leak in the car. It's a cycling event – there's be somewhere to fill them up before the start. There wasn't.

It'll be FINE.

Besides, it was tipping down with rain. I could always lick my own face. Or that of someone I was passing. I'd say hello first. Didn't want to make it weird. 

Ride London 100 was was a rolling start and we didn't have a wait this year … we just kept rolling over the start line. Nice. 

Rich’s Di2 battery warning came on. This battery controls the order of the gears on his bike. If the battery failed, he wouldn't be able to change gears. 

It'll be FINE. For me. It'll be fine for me. 

We got going. We'll deal with the problems when they become major problems. If the gears are working now, then we'll go with that. I had a coffee on the way so not particularly thirsty and there'll be an aid station at 25 miles. And the Garmin … well I can always update the data after the ride. It's not as if I don't know the distance of this ride. 

We'll worry when shit starts getting urgent. 

But it was all going SO WELL. **cough** I had to laugh. I might be crying too but you couldn't tell under all this rain. 

   

Got to Epping at mile 25 which was the first aid station. I hopped off the bike and filled up my water bottle. It was probably lucky that I hadn't had anything to drink yet as there were no toilets at this aid station. Apparently the toilet lorry had broken down on the M25 … At least all the motorists stuck behind it would have something to go on.

The plan for this aid station had been:

1. Fill up water bottles – done.

2. Have a wee – no loos = no wee.

3. Have a nice M&S sandwich – also foiled. 

We'd stopped at Marks & Spencer last year and bought a wrap which had been the perfect breakfast. However, our start time had been earlier this year so M&S was still closed. Gutted.

 

However shining like a blue beacon of hope was Greggs. So we went for the beige food. 

I had a steak bake. Despite the fact it probably never been an actual cow, it was delicious. Pastry for the pedals. Had a nice chat with a couple of lads in the queue who also reckoned that Greggs would be the PERFECT fuel. 

Sold. I'm sold. 

Who needs toilets and a posh wrap when you can have floods and beige food. There’s nothing quite like a sausage roll and a group ride through floods to bond with strangers. And yes, that pastry was exactly what I needed.

We left the aid station and cycled on a bit further and spotted a long queue of people ain cycling kit. Apparently a couple of portaloos had made it as far as the park up the road. We hopped off the bikes and joined the long queue snaking across the wet grass. Despite it being a bit of a disaster, everyone was really happy and friendly. I was also happy and friendly having scoffed some beige food and having finally found a loo. Life was good.

My Garmin beeped to tell me it had 5% battery. Shurrup Garmin. 

Bladder satisfied, we climbed back onto the bikes and joined a group of cyclists and took turns at the front into the wind. It was nice. Got to have a chat, a bit of a break from the wind and get an easy ride. A few of these cyclists had just come back from Spain and had enjoyed the sunshine. Seemed a different world away from damp old England.

The 50 mile aid station came around quickly. We were halfway through already. The beige food had been such a win at mile 25 it seemed silly not to try the same again so I had a sausage roll and cup of coffee from the van. The grass was soaking wet still so I sat on a tree stump to consume my feast. Typical for the day, this aid station had no High5 tablets. Maybe the tablet lorry was stuck behind the toilet lorry.

Hopped in with another group who were really pushing the speed and had a couple of really quick riders. I nearly dropped off the back a couple of times but took my turn at the front into the headwind … ouch! I wasn't much good … no-one gets much benefit from the little one being at the front!

We rode along with them for a few miles and then slowed the pace down at the top of a hill. This was meant to be a zone 2 ride for me and Rich, in preparation for Ironman Kalmar and it was turning into a bit of a mad tempo ride. It was fun, but it wouldn't do the training any good if it took a week to recover from.

Oh, and shoutout to the lady with the “Baby on Board” badge on her backside. Absolute legend!

With a final beeeeep of protest, my Garmin died at mile 58. That's pretty decent for 10% battery!

Rich, however, hit the wall around mile 70. His legs staged a mutiny, and honestly, I couldn’t blame them. Between the headwind and the fact that marshals ranged from “cheerleader extraordinaire” to “actively napping,” morale was hanging by a thread.

Somewhere around the 75 mile mark at Ongar—seriously, does that not sound like a character from Willow?—the weather decided to give us a laugh. A two-minute rainstorm arrived just long enough to drench us again, only for the sun to pop out like nothing had happened. Thanks, weather gods.

By the time we rolled back, I was sporting a dirt tan so spectacular it could’ve been featured in Cycling Weekly: Endurance Edition. My legs were toast, my Garmin was toast, and Rich was questioning all his life choices. But hey, at least we met some nice people, ate some iconic Greggs, and had a proper story to tell.

Ride time: 5 hours 15, distance 103 miles.

Lessons Learned:

• Charge your Garmin. You pillock.
• Don’t trust 10% battery to last 100 miles.
• Always carry High5 tablets because aid stations are unreliable. Also try and carry a portaloo if you can. 
• Rain and sausage rolls make for a surprisingly solid combination.

Would I do it again? Probably. But next time, I’m bringing a backup Garmin and my own snacks.