So….. yesterday.  Yesterday was the next instalment in the hill series that I’m just ‘loving’ (if loving actually means hating with all your might and would rather be watching paint dry that is).  

The difference with this one though is that I’ve ran it before – twice! And whilst it’s got its steep as hell climbs, it’s also got flat sections you can recover on (well, as much as you can during a race).  It is however longer than all the other races, and it definitely makes you work for that medal.  Bonus on this run though is that my other half was actually sponsoring it, he had designed the finisher t-shirt and was volunteering. 

There were quite a few Perth Road Runners volunteering also and many were marshalls round the course so there was lots of encouragement.


It was meant to be a long run day so I decided to run to the event and run back.  The youngest had other ideas though.  He gets a bit of separation anxiety from time to time so when I tried to drop him off he wasn’t all for it.  I know he’s fine within minutes of me leaving but when you don’t really need to leave straight away (because I could drive there) I find it more difficult to go.  In the end I managed to run 3 miles before my dad came along, picked me up and dropped me at the start.  3 miles was better than nothing and as expected my mum had text me before I had even hit a mile to say Ollie (my son) was playing happily.

Frazer – my original running buddy – was also running this race and his girlfriend Kirsty and daughter Jessica had come along too, as well as their dog Ruby.  

We were called to the start line about 10 minutes before the scheduled start.  Although I knew I would be passed I still went near the front as it was an instant climb and I didn’t want stuck behind someone or forced out the way.  This wasn’t a race I would be happy to just finish.  I wanted to improve last years time.  

I looked around and Sonjia, Stewart, Mark, Dave and Ronnie were in front of me.  Hmmm.  No Heledd.  Where was Heledd? I tapped Stewart on the shoulder.  ‘Have you seen Heledd?’ ‘No’ he replied.  Then a glint in his eye.  ‘Does this mean?’ 

I grinned.

‘I don’t know, I was sure she was coming though’.

Then Sonjia turned round.  ‘Heledd’s not here’.

She had the same grin as me.

‘Check you girls out all competitive!’

‘Not at all! Just friendly banter! But if she’s not here, more points for me’ I laughed.

Facts are facts, both Heledd and Sonjia are faster than me so yes, the only way I could ‘win’ was if Heledd wasn’t running.  Then I would be the only female that did all 6 Hill Races and the nightmare that was Birnam Hill (the first hill race) will most definitely have been worth it.  Sort of. Maybe.

‘Oh hi Heledd’.

Aw no, she was at the registration tent. Game over.  

She snuck to the back a little embarrassed that it looked like we were waiting for her but it wasn’t 11’o’clock so she wasn’t technically late.  ‘You’ve still got a good few metres on her’ Stewart said.  ‘I’m going to need it, and much more!’ was my reply.

Off we went and up the zig zag hill that is right at the start.  Not even a few metres to turn the legs over, you’re going straight up. I saw Kirsty at the top corner and a few steps passed her I heard ‘oh no, Ella’s already gone past’.  I think she was taking my mums place in the ‘missing the moment’ gallery ha ha. I gave her a wave to say I had heard her though.

First mile down and I chose not to look at my watch, there’s no point in Hill races.  I knew Heledd must be right on my heels and right enough, at 1.35 miles in I heard the ‘Hi Ella’.  ‘Hey’ I managed to gasp back.  She looked a bit white, not her usual self.  I wanted to ask if she was ok but I couldn’t gasp that out.  I passed her just a few minutes on which surprised me as I don’t think I’ve ever done that so tried to take advantage and not slow down until she had passed me again.

Around 2 miles and there was a woman at the side with a hurt ankle.  I asked if she was ok and told her friend I would let the next Marshall know.  He ran on but kept looking back wondering if he should have stayed with her.  

3 miles in and past the water station.  I didn’t take any as Heledd still hadn’t passed me and I knew the second I stopped or slowed down she would fly right by.  I also knew the worst Hill was coming and I would have to walk/stumble up it.  One of the Road Runners was the Marshall at the bottom of it and I had to ask her why she wasn’t running it.  She just looked at the hill and we both we knew she had made the smarter decision, not me! All the way up I was just waiting for Heledd to go past.  I’ve spent enough time behind her at these races to know she could most likely run this bit! When she didn’t pass me here I knew she wasn’t 100%.  Hoping it was more a case of she was ill and not a case she was hurt I kept on.  

Back up yet another hill and this one was one we had come down.  The Marshall – Sylvia I think it was – tried to be encouraging by saying something like it was the last hill, or it wasn’t far.  It’s quite hard to remember as I was so close to death through lack of oxygen.  I did manage a reply of ‘if I had the energy I would kill you for lying’ – she knows the route, she knows the truth ha ha.

As soon as I hit the ‘top’ and knew it was more down hill then up I kept at it.  Mile 5 and I did something I never do during races – I started to look behind me.  Yes I was trying to see if she was on my heels.  It kept pushing me forward though as every time I turned round I expected her to be right at my shoulder.  I knew where the final uphill was and pushed myself up it.  Then down it went.  Past Eleanor another road runner at a Marshall point with her daughter, cheering away, still pushing on.


She’s going to get me, she’s going to get me. This is going to be like the hills on Thursday when Mark lapped me right at the finish line! Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop.

I hit the zig zags and saw Kirsty again.  She started to run with me down them.  I found this hilarious and tried to shout ‘are you challenging me?’ but all my energy was going in to not being overtaken at the end. I had also calculated that if there was a team prize I may have been third female PRR as Marlena was between Sonjia and myself! (There wasn’t a team prize but still, it was a nice thought!). 


I turned the last corner and I heard footsteps. NO!!!! I was NOT giving this one up!! Unable to breath I somehow moved my legs faster.  Who ever this was was not getting past me!! 

It’s ok, they didn’t!


Across the line and a few very deep breaths later I went and collected my medal.  I saw Stewart and yes, I admit, my first words were ‘I beat Heledd!’ however this was very quickly followed by ‘but I don’t think she’s feeling very well, she’s not having a great race’.  I saw Kevin her partner and went over to speak to him.  He confirmed it, she wasn’t very well.  I felt really bad.  She came in just a couple of minutes behind me.  It’s all friendly competitiveness but I did feel bad for her.  She obviously wasn’t on top form or she would have wiped the floor with me.

Frazer came across the line in just a little over an hour which was phenomenal for his first time doing that run.  He was quite rightly pleased.

I love this picture of Frazer ha ha

And so on to my run home.  Well that didn’t go to plan. It was roasting hot, I didn’t have my sunglasses or a hat and my legs decided the 10k trail race was enough.  I had to make a call to my mum at 3 and a half miles in to get picked up before my hamstring went ‘ping’. 

All in all a good day.  I knocked 3 minutes off my time from last year which was the main aim.  But best of all there’s only one more hill race!!

Yes!!! 

Photos courtesy of Ethan Lee and Gordon Donnachie – they are at most races in Scotland kindly taking photos on their own time.  Much appreciated! (Except the one you get of me every time where you age me at least 30 years! Ha ha)


 The Alexis Rose Trail Race is a local families legacy race for their daughter who passed away from meningitis when she was only 19 months old.

Nanny On The Run

Nanny On The Run

I am undoubtedly going to get a scolding for this post but I don’t care, it’s worth it.

My mum – aka Nanny – ran the Race For Life 5k! 

Very proud daughter here.

I signed up for the 10k and suggested to my mum she did the 5k with me straight after.  She hasn’t been out running but she does walk a lot and she enjoyed it when we ran it 2 years ago with my daughter.  So I signed her up.

Then asked her.

It’s ok she was up for it.  I then asked a fellow roadrunner for an idea of a plan to get her to the end of the 5k and he suggested 1 minute run : 1 minute walk.  

Sunday morning I headed down to the start line of the 10k.  There were quite a few less people than what I remember from 2 years ago which was a bit disheartening.  I got there just as the warm up was finishing so I made my way to the start.  Joe was coming down later with the youngest on the bikes and my mum was going to meet me at the finish line.

There was a minutes silence so we could think about the reason for this run.  My mother in law passed away from cancer before I had the opportunity to meet her and I often think about how different things would be if she was here.  The minutes silence however was rudely disturbed by yet again someone playing their music out loud.  I was not impressed to say the least.  To show such disrespect is beyond me.

I chose not to push it – or to be more accurate my body chose to remind me I had completed a ‘rather tough challenge’ just the weekend before.  I also had a heart monitor on which, despite the doctors promise of it not being really obvious and of course I could do my usual activities wearing it, it was ironically killing me.  With every stride it was ripping a layer of skin of my chest and side.  I did however actually look like Ironman – or Ironwoman in my case ha ha.

The route took me past my friends house twice.  She had decided not to run it but had said she would be at her window to wave me on.  She wasn’t.  Her cat was, but she was not.  Pretty sure she was sitting on her comfy couch eating her breakfast in the warmth.  Yes.  I was jealous.

It was 2 laps and in all honesty nothing exciting.  I was more geared up for the 5k with my mum! I came in at a good time and Joe and my youngest were at the finish which was nice.


My mum, well, it’s my mum.  She got there a few minutes later. 

We headed over to pick up our numbers.  I had signed up quite late so they weren’t posted out.  The 5k wasn’t starting for another half an hour so I ran back to the car to get a banana.  Before long it was the starting line again.


We opted for the back of the ‘joggers’ as they were labelled and started with a 2 minute run.  I had to keep telling my mum to slow down as she was intent on going as fast as she could.  We went past Joe and Oliver which was a good boost for her.  I had text my friend to say we were coming past and true to form she was up at her window with her boys (and cat) waving away.  Obviously she’d finished her breakfast ha ha.


We went round by the river and there was a bit of a headwind but it was ok.  The walk/run/walk was working well and I was doing my best to convince her to keep it up.  One day I will get her at park run!

On to the last stretch and she pushed it that little bit more.  


You would think after doing her first 5k she would be really tired and go home and rest.  But nope.  She went to do the food shopping! 

Next year I’m going to sign her up for Pretty Muddy.  Who knows, it might be Tough Mudder after that! 

Next Up

What to do, what to do, what to do.

I just don’t know.

A week on from the biggest challenge I’ve taken on so far and I feel…..well….. confused.  Something’s missing.  I almost feel empty.  I’ve genuinely been round the houses time and time again trying to figure out how I ‘feel’.

The only thing I can put it down to is this – I know I can do more.  

Yes it was damn hard.  Yes the swim was one of the most petrifying things I’ve ever forced myself to do.  No I am not the biggest fan of cycling truth be told (and clearly my split on the bike backs that up).  Yes I was happy with my result.  I crossed that line and met every cut off.  I absolutely loved the run.

But…

I could have done better.  In ALL sections.  I wanted to enjoy it, that was my main aim, so I did allow myself to take a moment when I needed it.  And at the time I was happy to do so.  I race to enjoy – not to break myself.  But I’m left feeling ‘unfulfilled’.  Not quite complete.  

I did come to the conclusion that another Half Ironman at a substantially faster pace may fill the void.  And Weymouth is the ideal candidate for that.  However I’m not the only one who gets anxious about leaving the kids and us both racing hundreds of miles away without them there is too much right now.  Weymouth is the one he said he would be giving it his all at so it’s only fair I don’t affect that.  I absolutely love supporting as well so it’s not as if I will have a miserable day.  I will be on that start line next year though.  And there are of course other options, other races.

But I am still undecided.  Nothing confirmed.  Not a thing set in stone.

Hmm stone.  There is an ultra run called Race To The Stones…. that’s another option.

All I know for sure is that I have never felt like this after a race.  I’ve read all about the ‘down’ you can feel after a big race but this isn’t that.  I’m not depressed about it, I’m not gutted it’s all over, I don’t have a big space where my training used to be.  I’m doing a 10k followed by a 5k race tomorrow and I’ve got my GFA to earn.  I’ve got plans.

I just don’t seem to have that plan.  It may very well be that all important GFA but right now it doesn’t feel like it is.

The only thing I can guarantee is one thing – I’m not done.  I have not peaked.  I most definitely have not pushed my limits as far as they can go.

There is more to come from Ella.  Much more. 

Anything IS Possible

3:15am and our alarm goes off.  

This. Is. It.

The day I have been training for 6 months for.  6 solid months.  

It’s a quick shower, a quiet one.  No music this morning.  Just focus. Upstairs it sounds like my oldest has only just gone to sleep.  Ah to be 17 again. (Actually no thanks!).

Joes made a huge mound of porridge and I try to get as much down me as I can but I don’t manage a lot.  Eating at that time of the morning is near impossible.  Aware it’s not enough I try to top it up with half a bagel.  

Into the van and we are on our way to pick up Joes dad.  First panic of the day.  Do I have my timing chip! I ‘ask’ Joe to pull over even though we are only 2 minutes away from his dads so I can get my bag from the back of the van and precede to empty it’s contents eventually finding it in the ‘safe’ pocket I had put it in the night before.

No comment needed.

His dads there bright and breezy with his coffee and we are soon on the road to Edinburgh.  Unsurprisingly it’s clear and it’s straight through.  We park up and the minute the door is opened I can feel the wind.  It’s the sea front though.  It’s expected.  I take a quick look at the water and can quite clearly see the course marked out is not 1900 meters.  We will find out soon though.

Walking in we see Heledd straight away – she’s volunteering as Kevin is racing too.  The poor soul is already freezing but she tells us she is about to be moved position so she can warm up.  I wish I had taken photo with her at the start.  At 6am we hear the announcement that they have shortened the swim – for the pros as well.  What? That’s unusual.  They normally have to do full length regardless.

Into transition for the last checks on the bikes and we see some from Perth Tri Club. I join the queue for the toilets and remain there until very close to start time.  Luckily, it was worth it and I had ‘movement’. I get into my wetsuit and we head over to the start.  


We are at the back of the line but can’t see any signs telling us where to be for what predicted time so we can’t place ourselves very well.  Turns out the signs were on the inside of the fences.  Not very useful.  It’s impossible to move forward so we stay where we are.  There’s a few comments about the swim (‘may as well just chuck a bucket of water over us’ raised a fair few eyebrows around). I don’t look at the sea, I don’t even try.  I wanted to see the pro athletes but I’m tiny and can’t see over people.  I’m thankful for it though because I really didn’t want to look at what I was about to attempt.  Over the tannoy we are told it’s tough conditions and to give sharp hard kicks at the first buoy and that should get us round.

Should?!? 

We get to the front and a Marshall is there shouting ‘does anyone need goggles?’.  Nice touch have to say.  He follows it up with ‘or a choc ice or ice cream’.  Made me smile. I’m at the gate now.  I’m through the gate – my god that was fast! Joes through at the same time but he’s off and in the water.  The first wave hits me and I’m pushed back.  Holy hell.  Ok.  Just get in.  I dive in and I’m hit with other athletes trying to move forward but being pulled back.  I can still see Joe at the side of me, he’s having just as hard a time.  

I’ve only just started and I see a couple of kayaks just laden with people and pulling more swimmers out.  There’s lots of shouting but I can’t make any of it out above the noise of the waves.  I have a very fleeting thought of grabbing the kayak but I throw that out my head instantly before it festers.  I get to the first buoy and I can no longer see Joe, he’s probably already on to the second.  I’m now chocking on the sea water, badly.  I switch to breast stroke to try and calm down.  Works only marginally.  I’m swallowing so much water how can there be any left to swim in?!? 

Right, come on.  I see another kayak – swamped by more people.  I start thinking of all the people who know I am doing this, those who have donated, my kids – and I start thinking how embarrassing it would be for me personally not to do this.  The pros were out the water in less than 15 minutes.  15 god damn minutes.  Move your bloody arse Ella and get to the end.  Over a thousand people are doing this – it is NOT impossible.  Stop being a bloody wimp.  

I find some sort of rhythm and begin to go with the waves.  Front crawl works for a little while but you can’t sight and have to switch to breast stroke to make sure you’re still on course.  I take a few hits but nothing major.  Then an arm smacks me on the face not once but twice.  Goggles!! Oh my god my goggles!! I can’t get them back on if they come off!! Not in this!! They’re still on though, squint, but still on.  I feel something on the top of my neck and just before I freak out it’s a jellyfish I realise it’s my nose plugs.  I’m close to the next buoy and the waves are as high as the top it.  I consider jumping on it to get out the water and just bobbing around on it for a moment. 

It’s a nice thought.

I’m making the turn now so I tell myself I’m over half way, I may as well swim back.  There’s a new challenge now though – the sun.  I can barely see a thing.  I’m still surrounded by people so I must be on course.  The last and final buoy comes in to sight.  I turn and I’m on the final straight.  It feels like forever but eventually I can stand up. 

Well.  Wobble up.  Like bambi I make my way up to transition, occasionally trying to run.  I gave a great impression of a baby giraffe – award winning performance I would say.  I click my watch and it says 33minutes.  That’s embarrassing! I must be one of the very last out the water.  I’m trying to get my wet suit zipper down and another athlete does it for me.  I was incredibly thankful.

Just outside the tent I see Heledd shouting.  What a perfect time to see a friendly face! Gave me that moment to calm down and take a breath.  Of course I’m pretty sure my face just read ‘oh my god I almost died, why did I do that’ – but I appreciated seeing her. 

I need water.  Oh the irony!! Swallowed so much sea water I now needed plain water to help bring it back up.  I knew my transition time was going to be bad so I try to speed up at the same time as calming myself down.  I head out to my bike (still in shock) and as I take it from the rack I hear something very strange on the tannoy’

‘Joe Webley’

What? Is he just coming out of the water? I pause for a minute and fight the instinct to go back and check he was ok.  Something’s clearly happened. It’s not what you are meant to do though and he would shout at me if I did so I carry on to the bike.  

As soon as I’m in the saddle I can feel my front wheel wobbling.  Like really wobbling.  This isn’t good! What’s happening? It’s that bad I stop and check it several times.  Doesn’t feel lose when I’m stopped but doesn’t feel safe when I’m cycling.  I don’t know what to do.  I can’t find the problem but I’m not confident.  

So yeah, I carry on.  As you do.

I know I have to start re-fuelling as soon as possible on the bike but I can’t face an energy bar or a gel so I opt for the jelly babies I had bought last minute. Aware this was a very risky thing as I hadn’t trained with them I still put one in my mouth.

Best. Decision. Ever.

Those jelly babies were a life saver.

Nigel came past me with a cheery hello – I love that.  Then at seven miles I hear what I really, really needed to hear.

‘There she is.  Alright wife.’

‘YEAH!!!!!’ He’s caught up with me.  He’s fine.  What ever happened in the water hasn’t stopped him and he’s not in the medical tent.  He’s all smiles and laughing.  ‘What about that swim eh?’ He asks.  ‘I am never doing that again’ is my reply.  I tell him Nigel’s just ahead and I will ‘just stay back here’. It was a good boost and feeling of relief.

I know the Gifford loop is coming and at about 26 miles the course gets incredibly hard.  I’m honestly scared of one of the downhills that turns sharply in to a steep up hill so I’m preparing myself for a quick unclip – possibly even a fall.  First few climbs are hard but I do it.  My cornering is shocking but I’m still wobbling a little on the front wheel.  Still convinced it’s coming off.  I pass a few with punctures at the side but I don’t see any crashes.  Down through the first bad corner and I’m still up right.  Back up another hill.  I pass one or two and it gives me a little boost.  Further up I see a couple walking up and I use them as a ‘target’ to keep going.  Next comes the dreaded hairpin.  But – it’s not as bad as I had dreamed it was.  I slow right down but I still keep going. 

I’m still waiting on the dreaded downhill-sharp left-steep incline section when I get back in the village.  Huh? Where did it go? It was definitely before here.  I must have already done it!! Whoo hoo! Cycled the part that had given me nightmares and didn’t even realise it! 

Just a few miles on and I’m getting sore.  That love QL muscle is nagging away.  I don’t know how my youngest is as I wasn’t going to phone my mum at 6 in the morning.  My throats seriously hurts from all the gagging in the swim.  My swim was bad and I’m not convinced I made the cut off.  What if I don’t make the bike cut off? I’m well aware I’m not hitting my target time. 

So, I start singing.  

‘I love you baby, and if it’s quite alright I miss you baby, hold you tight’.

This carries on for a few miles.  

As does the wind.  At times it feels like I’m going backwards it’s that strong.  The crosswinds catch me a few times as well and I sway across the road. I don’t like cycling in the wind.  I don’t like it at all.

I count down the last 10 miles.  The cobbles were ‘interesting’.  My under carriage didn’t appreciate them.  Neither did the guy next to me.  ‘What the bloody hell is this!! This isn’t a road! And are we going up there?!?’

I got the sense he hadn’t enjoyed his cycle so far.

I knew what the last climb was and I knew where it levelled out so I went for it.  ‘Up, up, up you go Ella’ – got me a few funny looks.  I also knew the last downhill section was steep.  Taking no chances this late in the stage I kept hold of the brakes.  Maybe one day I will be confident on the bike but today wasn’t the day for risks. 

Up to the line and I dismounted. The woman next to me didn’t dismount until after the line then looked at the Marshall as if she didn’t know what he was saying.  I heard them arguing as I ran off.

Bike racked and I changed into my trainers. Ah my trainers.  My lovely, lovely trainers that meant I could now run!!! The part I love!! I know I can run 13.1 miles! My stomach wasn’t too good – still had salt water in it – so it was a quick stop in the porta loos. 

I’m out on the run and my legs feel surprisingly good.  I know it’s a flat before it starts to climb and I can already see people walking.  I pass a fair few but it’s impossible to say what lap of the three anyone is on.  I’m only half a mile in and I have a light bulb moment.  My front wheel wasn’t lose.  I was Sea sick from the swim! I laugh out loud at myself, not sure it’s something I should admit to but know I will later on.  

Top of that hill and I see a 6 foot tall ginger lad on a bike.  My arms are up and I’m waving like mad.  ‘Frazer!! I didn’t die!!’.  ‘Yeah!’ He shouts back.  What a boost to see my original running buddy at that point! He tells me Joes just ahead and I can catch him which I laugh at as this is quite clearly a lie and meant as encouragement – it’s appreciated.  

Along the first straight that goes over the tunnel and I see him.  My arms are up again.  I am so happy to be running and to see that Joe is in good form.  A high five as we pass and it’s smiles all round.  Now it’s into the tunnel which is nowhere near as bad as I thought it was going to be.  In fact, I quite liked it! I was getting a comfortable pace through it.  Back out and the sharp incline took its toll on my legs and I resorted to a short recovery walk for 10 seconds.  

Not long after was the feed station, typically  going up a ‘hill’ also.  Although happy to be running I had had enough of hills at this point.  A Marshall came right in to my face ‘go Ella’.  A bit taken aback I almost stopped.  Then I realised it was Gosia, another running friend.  What a cheery sight! ‘This is hard’ I tell her.  ‘What did you expect, it’s ironman’ she laughs at me.  


I push on to my second lap and instantly get confused on when I need to turn in to the finish.  Counting is not my strong point when running! I see Frazer again and give him a big smile.  I saw him earlier cycling along the side of Joe which was great to see.  He was working later so I knew he wouldn’t be there at the finish.  I saw a few more I recognised and cheered them all on.  I was actually enjoying the laps (once I got in my head when I had to turn in) and it broke it up fantastically.  I passed Kevin going the other way in the tunnel – Heledds partner – he was on his last lap.  I sang a little in the tunnel too, hard not to when the tunes were blaring at the turn.

Coming down near the last section of my second lap I see Kevin at the side stretching his leg.  ‘Are you ok?’  He’s got cramping in his leg.  He starts running with me and tells me he arrived late to the start so started at the back of the pack.  He didn’t find the swim easy either.  I really enjoyed running that short section with him and as he turned up the finish I shouted after him ‘Take it home Kevin’.  (If you’ve ever listened to Lonely Island you’ll know why I’m laughing, Michael Bolton can actually be funny).  


Last lap, last lap, last lap.  I’m doing this, I’m doing this I Am Doing This.  I wanted to enjoy every last moment of this race.  There was definitely no sprints for me! Last time past Gosia and her station and what a cheer I got from them.  Put the biggest smile on my face! Through the last feed station manned by West Lothian Tri Club and lots of encouragement again.  

Final section.

I can see Joe at the side, cheering me on.

I turn up to the finish.  No one is in front of me, no one is behind me.  I fight back the emotions threatening to make me cry.  I have THE biggest grin on my face ever.  I push right to the end.


Holy shit I just did it!!!! I just completed my first Half Ironman!! How did I do that??

Finisher photo taken and I make a bee line for the food.  I don’t move from the watermelon for a good five minutes. I can’t eat anything apart from that and the orange segments.  But I don’t care.  I am officially a Half Ironman. 

Meeting Joe and his dad outside the finishers tent he tells me to quickly put more layers on before the cold hits me.  It’s been raining on and off and the wind was bringing a chill.  He also gives me an update on our youngest who had had a bad night but was ok, not to worry. 

Of course I hit the expo tent.  Card in hand. Proud memoribelia purchased.  

On the road home and I check my phone.  I  had absolutely loads of support from the road runners and friends.  How I didn’t cry when I was reading it all I will never know. It was fantastic.  

Joe and I talked non stop on the way home recalling the achievement we had just accomplished.  He had struggled with the waves and had grabbed a kayak at one point.  He knew the swim was going to be his hardest part and seeing an overturned safety boat didn’t help. He had done it though and pushed himself through.  And it hadn’t put him off.  Just made it all the more important to get more sea swim practise in.

One of the pro athletes dubbed the course the hardest she has ever done – and it makes Staffordshire a walk in the park in comparison.  That settles it in my mind for me.  It was right to cut the swim.  It was not an ‘easy’ option.  Around 50 people got pulled from the water.  Many chose not to even start and the latest figures I read quoted a 29% DNF rate overall.  The swim conditions got worse the later you went in.  

I did it though.  I did every part of it.  I may not have been the fastest, I may not have ranked high in the results but I did it! I crossed that finish line.  

So yes.  I believe that Anything IS Possible.  I’m having a couple of days rest to let my body recover and I’m going to wear my finishers t-shirt for a week! I’m in no rush to scrub off my number tattoo and my new Ironman bag will be going everywhere with me. 

I bloody did it!! 

Ironman Weekend – Friday/Saturday

The weekend did not start out great.  Our youngest started coming down with something on the Thursday night and by Friday evening it was clear we couldn’t possibly have him with us for the event.  Nothing quite sets you back as much as not having your kids there and not having your parents there.  Yup, it was Nanny Netty to the rescue again (and my dad) They kindly had them and stayed at home whilst Joe and I ran around all weekend.
On the Friday we went to register and attend the novice briefing.  We may have done a few triathlons but we haven’t done this distance and I didn’t want anything going wrong.  I knew they had strict rules on things and I didn’t want to be DQ’d over something I could have learnt at the briefing.  I picked up some good tips.  Best place to put your things, what to do if you panicked in the swim, a reminder of the drafting rules and a joke or two about the ‘flat’ course. (I think the comment was who ever designed the course has a wicked sense of humour).  


We bought a t-shirt each from the expo – the one that has everyone’s name on it – but I didn’t want to tempt fate and buy the actual Edinburgh Finisher tshirt.  I did however plan exactly in my head what I would be buying when I crossed that finish line.  (So many more things than that tshirt ha ha).


Once the briefing was done we did a recce of the run route as it was close by.  ‘It’s not too bad, you get a flat start then it just climbs slowly’ I said as we walked up the first section.

Then we kept walking up, and up, and up.

‘You were saying?!’ Joe said as he turned to me with raised eyebrows.  Hmm, this wasn’t going to be as easy a run as I had pictured.  We went to find the now infamous underground tunnel everyone had been raving about.  It was dark.  It was wet. It was creepy.


I insisted on walking all the way through it to ensure there was no where someone could jump out and try to kill me.  I refused to read the graffiti on the walls as I was convinced it would say ‘R.I.P – what made you think you would get out alive?’

The only way out the tunnel was up another steep hill.  It was short though.  Think positive Ella.

We had to head back through on the Saturday to rack our bags and bike and go to the practise swim.  Tensions were high! Let’s just say we spent a large portion of the day ‘discussing’ things and these ‘discussions’ only got hotter and hotter.  Much like the temperature that day.  There were many clenched fists in the mouth moments.  (Our own clenched fists in our own mouths I hasten to add!) Could have been avoided though, had someone stuck to the plan. Or even made a plan like he was supposed to but no.  Someone knew better.  Because someone  knows everything.

Just saying.

Joe.

Anyway.  A few back and forths, a few u-turns and fast accelerations (I won’t mention the parked car incident) and we headed to the practise swim.

Ah the practise swim.  

It was not smooth.  It was not calm.  I wasn’t sure I wanted to get my wetsuit soaking and not dried before the actual swim so when I saw how rough it was, I said ‘no thanks’.  Yes ok I chickened out.  But I wasn’t alone.  There were a lot of people there and not many who actually got in the water.  No I didn’t expect it to be very calm but I also didn’t want to get a fright or a panic the night before so I passed.  A few from Perth Tri Club went in and they all came out saying it wasn’t as bad as it looked.  A few also came out with cuts and grazes.  I pushed this to the back of my head.  There was already chat about the likely hood of the swim being cut due to the conditions.  I had mixed feelings about this.  I really wanted to do the full distance.  I had trained to do the full distance.  But I had never swam in choppy water like that before.  

As soon as we were home the email came in.  ‘Potential shortened swim’.  

And just as fast – the keyboard warriors were out.

‘That’s ridiculous if they cut the swim, it’s not even cold!’ ‘If you can’t handle a sea swim you shouldn’t enter a 70.3!’ ‘Wales 2015 was much worse and they didn’t cut that’.

Oh my god get over it!! 2015 was 2 years ago!!

The decision would be made at 6am.  And that decision was final.  It would be what it was.  

A quick trip to the supermarket to get a couple of back up gels and I picked up some jelly babies as well to try and eat on the bike.

We packed our bags with the last of our stuff and went to bed early.  Nerves were ridiculously high.  My daughter kept sending me snapchats of her and our youngest which were really cute and helped remind me of one of the reasons I was doing this.  I watched a ridiculous amount of motivational videos on YouTube that I have become addicted to.  I visualised myself at the finish line over and over again.  That was where I was going to be just after lunch time. On. That. Finish. Line.

The Night Before Post

”Twas the night before Ironman70.3

And not a creature was stirring

Well, maybe just for a pee

Two wholesome triathletes 

A man and his wife

Were lying there ‘sleeping’

Contemplating life

Would they survive this ordeal

In the Scottish choppy sea

Or would they succumb to the elements

And walk away saying ‘not for me’

Would the jellyfish make an appearance

And sting them to death

Or would they own the waves and swim them

With every deep (or dying) breath

Would the wind be too strong

And knock them about

All through the course in Edinburgh

Oh there was no doubt

Would the climbs be too steep

And the descents be too much

For this pair of triathletes

Did they have the guts?

And if they made it to the run

And the tunnel of doom

Would they be able to climb that mountain

Or blow up like a balloon

In less than 24hrs

Time would tell

Nothing could be done now

There was no magic spell

They asked themselves ‘why am I doing this’

As they lay there pretending to sleep

Worries running over and over 

Going through their minds on repeat

I might actually die

Was initially the first thought

Not to mention the cost

Of all the gear they had bought 

But you can’t buy pride

Or being able to say ‘I CAN’

And at the very end of this

We will be able say ‘I’m an Ironman!’

Ok maybe just a ‘half’ ironman

In Edinburgh at least

But we might go Full one day

And become Team Iron Beast

Thank You

All day.  All freaking day something’s been bothering me.  And it’s the culmination of a few things all rolled in to one.

Negativity.

Not mine.  But other people’s. That’s right, YOURS.

(Well maybe not you personally but you get my point)

Now.  Where to begin?

When I first started ‘being active’ I feared negativity.  I was convinced I was the centre of everyone’s attention as I waddled down the road, Lycra clad, trying to put one foot in front of the other at a pace faster than a granny with a Zimmer frame.  Of course I wasn’t – (the centre of everyone’s universe I mean but no, at that time I was also not faster than the Zimmer frame) – but I had that fear.  The same fear everyone does when they start something new.  But I got over it (or over ‘myself’ which is a bit more accurate – the dog chasing its tail will always be more entertaining to watch than someone running past).  It’s gone.  I moved on.

And I’ve never really experienced negativity at running races either.  At the first few I’ve possibly thought people would wonder what I thought I was playing at attempting to run but that was my own head issues.  Yes I’ve had one or two blokes clearly not happy at being beat by a 4ft midget women but I put that down to competition and the majority of us set a target person to beat anyway, it’s not that bad a thing.

But never, absolutely NEVER, have I experienced the volumes of negativity surrounding a race as much as I have of the Edinburgh Half Ironman.

Moaning about it being called ‘Edinburgh’, complaining about the disruption, bumping gums about what others call it, referring to it as just plain ridiculous.

I honesty can’t take much more.  It’s 2am and this shit is keeping me up.

Let me explain.

Firstly, the ‘Edinburgh’ reference.  Now if you’ve read any of my previous posts you’ll know my geography is probably on par with a pre-schooler however, I do recognise that the race route for Ironman Edinburgh 70.3 is not entirely in Edinburgh.  I’m not sure if some people expected a new open water place to magically just appear in the centre and  for almost 2000 people to cycle and then run through the centre of Edinburgh closing even more roads but come on.  Doesn’t take a genius to work out where the route would likely be.  So having used my pre-school map and compass before entering (along with my back pack, thank you Dora), this does not bother me.  It’s Ironman Edinburgh 70.3 – says so on the uber expensive registration form.

Disruption.  Ok.  I get it.  A big nuisance to those not involved or interested in the race.  But you chose where you live.  You know it’s a popular place for events.  Roads are closed for both the safety of those participating in the event and everyone else.  EVERYONE ELSE.  Have you ever been hit by a cyclist? Has one cycled in to your car or your dog on the out-stretched lead?  Has anyone ever run in to you full pelt and knocked you over?  It’s not just us participating that can get hurt.   But yes, I can appreciate having to work around the area you live in being closed for a few hours is a pain in the backside.  Why should you have your life disrupted because some people want to have ‘a pissing contest’? (And yes, that’s an actual quote from a keyboard warrior).  There is notice that goes out so you can forward plan.  You’re complaining now which means you are aware of it and therefore have time to arrange alternative means.  I do appreciate it’s annoying, especially if it’s something you’re not even remotely interested in – But – can you not appreciate what it does for your area? No Edinburgh doesn’t need ‘put on the map’ – pretty sure Trainspotting did that very successfully, not to mention every other blockbusting movie that likes to film in the centre – but the Ironman brand is a worldwide spectacular event.  It is well known for its support, its expertise in these events and how to pull off said events in a phenomenally easy manner.   

Can you not just be the same just for one day?

So many of us have put ourselves through months and months of training to do this frightening task on Sunday.  No you may not be interested one bit in what we are doing or how we have trained or that we have had near death experiences along the way but surely you recognise it’s all for a good thing?  That it’s not just for ourselves.  That some of us are raising money and awareness for several charities (ironically my chosen charity being SAMH – mental health – this negativity does not support good mental health).  That some of us are trying to demonstrate a healthy lifestyle to our children and also to our friends and families? 

But…

It’s not just those outside of the sport either.  I’ve said before how I’ve not found all triathletes to be the most welcoming.  And my experience of Ironman Edinburgh 70.3 has not done anything to improve that.  Not just the raised eyebrows from a few weeks ago at the Loch swimming but the quick and sharp correction months ago when I mentioned on a Facebook site I was doing Edinburgh Ironman that I MUST put in the title that it was a Half Ironman.  Stupid me. I had presumed any die hard Ironman fan would automatically know Edinburgh only has 70.3 and not the Full Ironman.

My bad.

I should not be surprised though that keyboard warriors are out there and like to express their opinion.  Fine.  Everyone’s entitled to their opinion – hence this post – but I personally prefer to be supportive rather than rant and rave over something that has absolutely no effect on my life what so ever.  Yup, the majority of these ‘fellow triathletes’ aren’t even taking part in Ironman Edinburgh 70.3.  Maybe thats why I prefer being part of my running group.  At least people will say hi rather than the equivalent ‘you can’t call yourself a runner, you’ve never ran a race’.

But let’s not get in to that debate on when you can and can not call yourself a runner or a triathlete.  

It’s now after 3am.  I’ve read back through some of my own blog posts to remind myself how far I’ve come.  How hard this training has been – not just on me but my family too.  And how much I want this.  I’m doing this for me. Not for you.  Not your approval or acceptance.  But for ME.  I know for a fact Ironman will put on a good show.  I don’t doubt it in the slightest.  The atmosphere will be out of this world.  There will be many tears, probably a few moments of seeing my breakfast again and many, many souvenirs bought.

So, thanks for shitting on my parade, but I don’t need your negativity.  I will stick with being on the positive fence and at least try to see the good in all things.  If nothing else you’ve distracted me a little from my nerves.  That can only be a good thing (see what I did there, not hard is it).


Thank you.