World Ironman 70.3 Marbella: A Brutal Course… And I Loved It!!

I don’t think I’ve ever been excited for so long leading up to a race. Yes, there were waves of nerves in the weeks before—those horrible, stomach-churning ones—but the overriding feeling was pure, bubbling excitement. I just couldn’t wait to start.

It had been a strange year: five weeks off with illness in February and March, which meant I didn’t manage any warm-up races before my A-race, Bolton 70.3, where my goal was to qualify for the Worlds. I missed out last year thanks to Covid, so this time I went in unsure of what would happen—but loving the thrill of racing again. I won my age group. Marbella, here I come! Even better, my friend Sue qualified too, so we planned to travel together.

In the lead-up, I joined a Facebook group to learn about the course… and promptly scared myself senseless. Endless chat about how brutally hard the bike route was, TT or road bike, disc wheel or not, gale-force winds, and general doom. Took advice from Paul, tested both bikes on local hills, and decided: TT with disc it was. But still had the worry of, what if it’s windy?! I rode the route on ROUVY, watched videos, then had a last-minute meltdown when I couldn’t get the bike into the box. A calm rescue from Sarah and Phil at Arragons—derailleur off, bars off—and a set of photos later to show me what it should look like built- I just had to trust I could rebuild it.

The week before the race, Facebook feeds again—this time about bikes not arriving. Sue and I were massively relieved to see ours appear after a long passport queue. With a little help from a 70-year-old reigning Ironman World Champion, and the promise he could borrow my bike for his race as his hadn’t arrived, I got it built and ready.

Marbella itself was stunning—and warm. The transitions were split, with T2 hidden in a dimly lit underground car park. I did have a moment of, “Er… will my dark visor let me see anything in here?” The only job was to ignore all the pre-race chatter about freezing swims, windy bikes, scorching runs, and wait for morning.

I slept surprisingly well. My start wasn’t until 9 a.m., though I had to be in the pen an hour earlier. Sue set off nine minutes before me. I was still buzzing with excitement, with just a touch of nerves. I loved the rolling start: eight people every five seconds—no risk of being swum over! When I finally hit the water, it felt warm but the swells were huge, making sighting tricky. Still, I swam with a smile. I was finally racing. Training was done, I’d done everything possible, and I felt in great shape. I’d aimed for 34 minutes but came out in 40—not ideal, but no time to dwell. Onto the hills!

Three miles in, I hit a speed bump at 20 mph and instantly lost both my water and carb drink. Not ideal… but I knew a feed station was six miles ahead. They didn’t have carb drinks, so nutrition would be peanut-and-jam sandwiches, a banana, and a power bar. No stress. The climbs were long, steady drags—my favourite kind. With 2,500 women setting off before me, there were constant riders to chase down. Pure fun. I stuck to my power plan and loved every minute. The bike choice was spot on. The descents, however… long, fast, crosswind-ridden, and frankly terrifying. I sat up whenever it got too twitchy and rode as safely as I could. Felt strong the whole way. All those training rides up and down Hartside paying off! 

Into T2. The underground car park was as dim as expected. I ran down one aisle, decided it was wrong, cut through bike racks, got to the end… and realised I’d been right the first time. Eventually found my spot, swapped shoes, and headed out into the heat.

The run course support was incredible. Ice cubes at every mile were grabbed and shoved down my trisuit. I managed to hold my pace, felt strong, and—once again—found myself smiling. I was genuinely loving it. Running down the red carpet, the happy tears hit. I’d finished the World 70.3 Ironman! 

I grabbed my bag and immediately wanted to call Andy. My phone was exploding: 74 messages from him and my two sons, David in Australia and Sam in New Zealand—my little international cheer squad. The last message said I’d finished 18th out of 218 in my age group. Cue more tears. Without Andy, I truly wouldn’t be here. He supports me 100%, encourages me, gives me confidence, and knows how important racing is to me. 

Sue finished and discovered she was 17th in her age group—cue more hugs, more tears, more celebrations. And how did we celebrate? Tea and crisps on the balcony, reliving the whole day. The prosecco came later!

The post-race high still hasn’t faded. I want to qualify again next year, so Bolton is already entered. For now, it’s gentle exercise only—desperate as I am to train properly, I know recovery is vital. This whole experience reminded me just how important support is:

– Andy, who does more for me than he’ll ever know

– David and Sam, cheering from across the world

– Paul, whose training I trusted completely

– Lucy, with her magic hands keeping my body functioning

– And my brilliant training friends, who understand 5 a.m. lake swims, three-hour bike rides and long runs! 

One more week easy, then back to work. Can’t wait. But for now… definitely time for another cup of tea. ☕🏊‍♀️🚴‍♀️🏃‍♀️