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.
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