July Newsletter 2026
Membership Update
Please join me in welcoming our new members to the club:
Mark Gallimore
Geoff Bull
Peter Jones
I hope you will enjoy training with us!
For anyone that wants to get the most out of the club and would like a call to talk this through – please let me know. Please join the WhatsApp community to keep up to date with what is going on.
Ironman before I am 20
Written by Alexander Marsh
After a couple of years in triathlon and thinking I was getting the hang of things, I thought of the bright idea to complete an Ironman before turning 20. The goal was simple, so I had thought and there was a race just 2 days before my birthday, Lanzarote. It seemed simple enough but little did I know what was to come.
When I’d tell people in the know about this wonderful plan of mine, they would say how Lanzarote is insane as a course to do, let alone as your first Ironman, except for my coach Callum Hughes and my Dad. Not to say they didn’t think I was nuts but, not once did they question if it was achievable and my Dad was even crazy enough to sign up with me and it was that support by them and my family which got me through it.
Now comes the reality. It’s all fun and games talking or even just thinking about the possibilities but then you must put in the work and prove it to yourself and prove how serious you are. Heading into winter would be my first serious training block doing 10+ hours a week for the first time which with the dark cold days was anything but easy however with this I truly developed my love for swimming. Cycling not so much those 3-hour sessions on the turbo aren’t for the faint hearted but, the swimming and running was my forte. Saying that my biggest challenge with this was sleep, arguably the most important part to training. Waking up at 5am for work or swimming and getting home at 4am from a different job was anything but consistent. This gave me setbacks with illness and injury, however I also believe that is part of what made me so determined, I would not give up come hell or high water. That belief made me resilient, and I would not accept defeat.
Now comes race day, here is where all excuses are out of the window. It is down to you and you alone to persevere and get through this.
The swim:
We got down to transition about 6am to make sure everything was in place and that’s where my lack of brain cells begins… I forgot my goggles, I was running back to the Airbnb praying I’d make it in time when an athlete on the way to the start stopped me and gave me a spare pair of goggles, to this day I couldn’t be more thankful as to be completely honest even if I got back I had no idea where my goggles were, I ran back and found Dad to head back into transition together gave one last goodbye to see each other at the end, or so I had thought…
The swim was hectic to say the least but the water conditions were perfect, I got booted and slapped a fair few times but despite that I did the best swim of my life with an Aussie exit serving as a refresher to wash my mouth out I finished in 1hour18minutes, I had no expectation to do that but I felt great coming out of the water and very, very happy.
The bike:
It’s safe to say I was very thankful to have gone over the course a couple months earlier so I knew just how much pain I was in for, however as I came out of transition I saw my dad in the road cheering for me… He was out of the race. I was mixed with confusion and annoyed at the time but after a brief chat and him telling me to hurry my ass up I had only one mission to get through this.
I was anything but quick and I was happy with that as my only goal was to get through to the other side and be able to run. The first 90k was amazing, some very slow long climbs but nothing crazy and I stuck to the plan. Stopped at every aid station keeping it nice and casual and my legs were thankful for it but now comes the pain. Mirador del Haria, a 7km climb averaging about 4% with times where you think it’s over but it isn’t. Followed by a hairpin descent it was hard to gain much speed as I held onto my breaks for dear life and once you get down your hit with mirador del Rio, the second hardest climb straight after and it’s at this point you really start questioning some life choices.
Once getting through this unfortunately I couldn’t get any water at the aid station after all of that, and then the aid station after that also had ran out of electrolytes, that’s where the mind games really hit you as I was pedalling along getting more dizzy by the minute until the last aid station, a saviour. It had anything and everything with lots of people cheering you on for the final stretch and it was there I would make a mistake which would destroy me, I tried compensating for the lack of nutrition I had over the last couple hours and in the last 10k I started throwing up off the bike but it was just that last stretch and it was all over, I made a friend along the way. I have no clue who he is, and I have no idea what his name is but it was also his first Ironman and had family waiting for him to get off the bike so we pushed through and on we went through transition together.
The run:
I took my time in transition, not sure if I could’ve been slower to be honest leaving after just under 20 minutes but I headed off seeing my dad and Mary, my legs felt great the master plan to preserve them worked and my dad ran along with me for a while making sure I had everything I needed and seeing how I was. At that time I felt fine. I was sunburnt to pieces but I felt good, until I didn’t. It didn’t take long for everything to catch up to me, after about 10k the pain really set in. Everything apart from my legs had shut down most of all my stomach, those issues from the bike stayed with me and my body refused to put down any fuel apart from water and needing regular toilet breaks.
At 15k I saw my best mate, he flew out just to watch me and even brought his family along for the ride. He ran with me for a little bit just talking to get my mind off things but I was fighting another war in my head and would only say a few words for the most part at that point I was non verbal just staring at my feet each step at a time. Throughout that run I saw him and his family shouting for me. He would cheer me on then sprint down to the other end to cheer me on from there as well, all in sandals, and I couldn’t be more grateful.
It was dark now, still warm but getting deep into the night as I headed for my last lap, I started off running but quickly turned into a limp and a drunk man from one of the bars came up and refused to stop running with me until I got back into the rhythm of it, with each bar we pass more and more people shouting at you to keep going. That lap was the most painful thing of my life, I was destroyed both physically and mentally having my eyes closing on me wanting to just go to sleep. Then people start talking about the cut off, if you don’t step up you won’t make it. Like hell am I going to allow that to happen, after those sleepless nights the training you dreaded but did it anyway and that 9 hours on the bike I had just done, I’ll be damned if this is where I crumble. I refused to let up now, there is no feeling sorry for yourself out there, no one to cry to it’s just you who can do this and with that I reached the last stretch.
Nearly hitting midnight most people had packed up for the day, my eyes lit up seeing the red carpet and onwards I went ringing that first timer bell and crossing the line. The line that I proved to myself I can do anything, the course that tried to break me actually made me stronger. I laid everything out that day and getting to the end was the most painful and yet fulfilling experience of my life.
My dad came straight to me after I collected my medal, and I needed that hug. Dad had bust a tear or two that day. I was a broken man and couldn’t collect my thoughts let alone my bike. It took a couple days for it to truly set in what I had just done but it was the most intense and amazing thing ever. I’ve never felt so hopeless and yet accomplished. I had done it. I have done a Ironman before I turned 20 and at that I had done arguably one of the hardest courses you can do. I went on to have an amazing birthday whilst I was out there and everything was thanks to the amazing support from my family and friends.
Tarragona Delivers the Sunshine… and a European Silver!
What a brilliant few days in Tarragona representing Team GB at the European Triathlon Championships.
It’s a fantastic place to race, Mediterranean coastline, palm trees, sunshine, sea and plenty of support along the way. I love racing in the heat, so with temperatures climbing to around 29°C, it was almost perfect for me!
The race started with a 1.5km non-wetsuit sea swim… gulp! Warm water meant no wetsuits, and the standard was high from the hooter. Survived!
Next came a scenic 40km coastal bike course – fast, technical and great fun, with some lovely views (when there was time to look up from a tucked-in TT position!).
Then onto my favourite part – a flat four-lap 10km run, where the real battle began: the heat and chasing down other athletes! By then the sun was in full force and the sprinklers became my favourite feature of the course. They definitely helped keep me going full gas to the finish.
I’m absolutely delighted to have come home with a silver medal in the 55–59 age group. This one means a lot.
Just a few weeks before the race I took a nasty fall while out running on the canal path (complete with a trip to Minor Injuries to be glued back together!), leaving me wondering whether I’d even make the start line.
Instead of trying to push through, I took 12 days off training, let my body recover and eased back carefully. Not easy for me! It was a good reminder that sometimes the best training decision is knowing when not to train. Thankfully, I managed to hold onto my fitness, arrive in Tarragona ready to race, and prove to myself that patience really can pay off.
The whole experience was brilliant, racing against Europe’s best age-group athletes, wearing my Team GB trisuit, and catching up with friends old and new.
Looking forward to my next triathlon adventure in September … although if I could put one request in, it would definitely be for a wetsuit swim!
Edwina McDowall
Tri2O Run Officer
50 Miles. One Big Reason.
Written by Roger Ganpatsingh
Some of you will know I love my long runs. Last month, I took on Chapter2’s 50-mile Father’s Day Challenge across the Peak District — climbing 1,089 metres (the height of Scafell Pike) over the wild edges of the Dark Peak before dropping into the green pastures of Chatsworth and finishing in Hope Valley. A fitting name for a finish line, all things considered.
Fifty of us took on the challenge, and four of us ran the entire 50 miles. Thankfully, the weather was on our side before the recent heatwaves arrived. The climbs were relentless, the descents brutal on the knees, but the scenery was simply incredible. I was grateful for every strength and conditioning session I’d done in the gym!
The real reason for taking part was Chapter2, a charity that pairs boys who have no contact with their fathers with a long-term male mentor. It’s not a quick fix; it’s about providing consistent support, guidance and new experiences that help these boys grow in confidence and move towards a healthy adulthood.
I’ve been mentoring one of those boys for nearly three years. It’s one of the most challenging and rewarding things I’ve ever done, and I’ve seen first-hand the positive impact Chapter2 has on the boys and their families who are fortunate enough to secure a place on the programme.
There’s a long and growing waiting list of boys still waiting to be matched with a mentor. Every pound raised helps Chapter2 recruit, train and support more mentors, so more young people can benefit from the programme.
If you’d like to find out more about Chapter2:
https://chapter2.org.uk/
If you’d like to support my fundraising:
https://www.justgiving.com/page/roger-ganpatsingh-3
Thanks for reading, and thanks for any support you’re able to give.
European Sprint Duathlon Championships
Written by Sally Waterman & Sean Stewart
The European Sprint Duathlon Championships took place in the small Spanish lakeside town of Banyoles on Saturday 11 July. Whilst it seemed, from the little we saw of it, a lovely place, it has only a couple of small hotels. Team GB team had 1,100 duathletes racing over 2 days so we, like many competitors, had accommodation in Girona, 25 km away. This was not ideal as we did not have an opportunity to recce the bike or run courses prior to the race. Some people cycled to Banyoles and then did a recce but as the daytime temperature was 35-39ºC this didn’t seem a sensible pre-race activity to me! We had ridden the bike GPX course on our turbo trainers so knew there were only two hills – one with a similar profile to Dunsden Hill, which we’d practised on, and the other was short and sharp.
Ahead of the race there was a lot of angst on the Team Facebook group about how hot it was going to be on race day – the wave start times were 10:00-10:15 and, we were told, this could not be changed to earlier in the morning when it would be cooler. The Standard Team Manager, Sandra Barden, posted a helpful piece about the importance of keeping your core body temperature below 40ºC as well as staying hydrated. Her tips on how to do this were helpful – although most people did not have access to ice cubes – but it also caused more fretting. Fortunately, the forecast for race day was a few degrees cooler in the morning, and hazy with some cloud.
We, along with many others, had booked transport to Banyoles on race day with Nirvana. Multiple minibuses with long bike trailers arrived at the hotel and we were all loaded and ready to go at 07:00. It was all very slick. The only slight annoyance was that Nirvana had been told, we assume by the local police, that we could not be taken to the event site, so we were dropped off, with our bikes, about 20 minutes’ walk away and (without a map, resulting in some group stress!) Nevertheless, we still arrived before transition opened at 08:00 and waited under some trees to be let in. The volunteers and technical officials (TOs) were very efficient and there were no long queues.
After racking our bikes, we did a recce of transition, which was on a sports field with a lovely flat smooth artificial grass surface. We noted the potential to slip (if wearing bike shoes as I do) on the very steep long and bouncy temporary ramp for bike-in and a shorter steep concrete incline for bike-out. Transition was very spacious and the flow through was one of the simplest we’ve ever experienced. In championships races each competitor has a plastic box next to their bike into which everything must be put once it has been used (bike helmet for example and 1st run shoes if using two pairs, as I do). Only race-related items, such as a drink bottle, must be in the box. Following the advice about keeping cool from Sandra, we bombarded the TOs with unusual questions, such as whether we could put small cool bags of ice in the box (a reluctant ‘yes’). I asked about my plastic bowl (from a supermarket salad lunch) into which I had put water and my cap, a small cloth and a headband to soak (a resigned ‘yes’). I also had two bottles of water to pour over my right leg which, as it’s encased in medical grade compression, rapidly over heats in high temperatures and swells even more.
Instead of start pens which we are used to moving through at races we had to start standing by our bikes in transition to be called forward by row just ahead of our start time. As is almost always the case, the older women were the last wave (row) to start so we were stood in the sun for nearly 30 min before we were called forward. I was grateful for the bowl of water I’d put in my box and the small cloth I’d brought which I used to squeeze water onto my head and shoulders. I put on a soaked headband that I’d bought in Girona the day before just before we were called forward.
Disappointingly there were only GB athletes in my Age Group (F65-69) and only five of us. We’d all raced each other before several times and knew the likely outcome, which was Amanda, Denise and Jen getting gold, silver and bronze. Me and Margaret chatted whilst we waited in transition about us fighting it out for 4th & 5th (she got past me on the 2nd run when we last raced each other in Rumia in 2025). Sean was having a very different conversation in his row – he and five other athletes racked near him in the 60-65 AG were discussing their atrial fibrillation and what medications they were taking!
Luckily the run, two 2.5 km laps, was mostly under trees alongside the edge of the lake. I tried to keep as close to Denise as possible and ahead of Margaret. There were three water stations on the course, and I took a bottle at each and poured water over my head. I was surprised to enter T1 with Denise and got to my bike ahead of her. Instead of concentrating on what I should have been doing the thought that if I could stay ahead of her I would be on the podium entered by head. This loss of concentration cost me time as I ran to the end of the row (about 2-3m) before I realised I still had my running shoes on! Despite a quick about turn and a rapid shoe switch Denise left transition ahead of me. My head was now filled with multiple expletives but once I’d mounted my bike I was determined to ride as hard as I possibly could to try and catch her.
Denise is a very strong cyclist, but I had in previous races been quicker up the hills than her and the first and only proper hill on the course started at about 2 km. This was likely to be my only chance to pass her. As I started the climb I passed Elspeth Knott (F75-79), who runs and cycles faster than I do, and was trying to put her chain back on. (Elspeth has podiumed at almost every race she’s done for over 20 years and has just topped the most gold medals, 26, of any GB female duathlete!). I sped past Elspeth feeling her frustration and saw Denise ahead. I caught her just as we got to the top of the hill, at which point Elspeth came alongside me and shouted at me to get on her wheel. We’d worked together for much of the ride in Rumia although I can’t always hang on to her wheel (those who have ridden with me will not be surprised to hear she dropped me on the roundabouts and the tight turnaround after which I had to ride solo even harder for about 5km to get back to her). I thought Denise would also tag on but she didn’t so I was motivated to ride as fast as I could to stay ahead.
I entered T2 and quickly racked my bike and removed my helmet before pouring water over by head and leg. It was hot (29ºC according to my Garmin) but still a bit hazy so I decided not to put on my cap, but I kept my headband, now wet again, on. I headed out on the 2.5 km run and watched Elspeth disappearing into the distance. I resisted the temptation to try to maintain the distance between us as having to walk if I blew up would allow Denise, and probably Margaret as well, to come past me. After the turnaround I saw Denise and Margaret trying to chase me down. I tried to keep a steady pace that I thought I could sustain and prepared myself mentally for a ‘sprint’ in the last 100 metres if I was caught. As in the first run I took a bottle at each water station and poured water over my head (my attempts to get water into my mouth failed every time, something I need to practise!). They didn’t catch me and I ran under the finish arch reasonably certain that I was 3rd.
The results were slow to come through but Amanda, Denise, Margaret and I regrouped for a photo and they agreed I was 3rd. We couldn’t find Jen but discovered later she was messaging her coach to ask why he was congratulating her on winning. She had! The podium for our AG wasn’t as we had anticipated – Jen had managed to ride with a bunch of younger women whilst Amanda rode alone, and Denise wasn’t at her best (and I wasn’t at my worst!). The race has fired me up to keep training consistently and hard to be part of the GB Team again in 2027.
Sean’s postscript:
As the last person called up to the GB team through the roll-down system I went into this race with three very clear goals:
- Finish the race
- Don’t be last, and
- Try to beat another Brit’
I achieved all three goals, so I’m very pleased with how it went.
Following my various heart-issues over the last couple of years I have (sort of) come to terms with not standing a chance of being at the pointy end of races anymore. This new perspective has allowed me to relax and enjoy these events a lot more than I ever did when we first started doing the ‘Team GB’ thing. I’ve got two more races this year, each is a qualification race, one is for next year’s World Duathlon Sprint Champs in Canada and the other for the European Champs which will be back in Spain; fingers crossed I will do well enough in both of these that I will once again get the late call-up to the Team. If I’m not selected I’ll still be in both locations to cheer Sally on (she has a PQ for European and will try to qualify for the World’s in October).
We’d both strongly encourage anyone who is interested in racing at the international level to give it a go, we’d both be delighted to talk you through the process if you have any questions (as I’m sure would the many other Tri2o club members who’ve been part of the GB Age Group Team).
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