2007 June - The Iron Man Poem

Some friends told me I was mad, but I was determined.

My family promised they would come and watch

To make sure I finished in one piece

In the Ironman Race 2007, in Nice;

The big day arrived.

I swore that nothing was going to get in my way.

I must just focus on the race

And keep up a good pace;

I was up at the crack of dawn, my bags all packed.

As I made my way to the starting line

All I could see was a gaggle of people gathering on the shore, more and more.

And suddenly I was amongst them, and then there was silence;

The gun went off, the waiting was over.

I glided through the sea, hundreds of figures around me

All dressed in black, like slippery seals,

Swimming back to back;

By the time I finished the swim, the elite had gone

My first transition was smooth, but long.

And then I was off, zooming along on my bike

But I had no idea I was up for such a long hike;

The first hill appeared, then the second, then the third.

I thought they would never end.

Before I knew it I was all alone,

Was I now coming last, I asked;

Transition number two, I knew what I had to do.

Only 26.2 miles to go, I was sure to finish;

As I sped down the first mile, the crowds were still cheering,

Although at this point I was becoming short of hearing;

I crossed the finishing line to see the setting sun,

All negative thoughts left me, it had been fun.

I immediately starting planning when I could do another,

But little did I know, I was about to become a mother!

Written by Tanya Anderson (6 weeks pregnant on 20^th June 07 – Holly Anderson, born 26 February 08)

2012 May - My Singapore shoe collection

2012 May - Short Story

She must have past.  Please, please, please she whispered as she gingerly got out of bed and went over to the computer.

She deliberately hadn’t set her alarm hoping to sleep in until 9am when the exam results would be posted on the web.  But as usual she woke up 6am on the dot and couldn’t get back to sleep.  She lay there, trying to think of anything but her exams results.  She must have past, surely.  The professor had told her that she would sail through.  She had got top marks in all her papers so far.

Things to think about to pass the time:

What to do on the weekend?  Maybe give Hayley a call and see if she wanted to go the lounge bar for some cocktails and dancing.

Or maybe go to a Zumba class on Saturday morning, or maybe both.

Or maybe a bit of shopping, Fiona and Trisha go shopping every minute they had spare.  Lisa couldn’t stand it.  She never forgot the time when her mum had taken them all shopping in Oxford Street.  Supposedly it was a treat and her mum built up the occasion for weeks. But trudging up and down until all their feet were sore was not what any sane person would call a treat.  Come to think about it - definitely no shopping.

7.39 am precisely.  One hour, 21 minutes and 20 seconds to go precisely.

Lisa clearly remembers the day she waited for the post man to arrive with her A-Level results.  In those days you had to send a stamped addressed envelope to the examination centre or they wouldn’t send them to you.  Everything was so different now. 

8.55 am, it was now or never.   She could feel her pulse beating faster as the computer screen lit up and she typed in her password. 

“PASS”  !!!!! Lisa screamed out loud.  She wanted to give someone a hug; what a relief! Pass didn’t sound much, but it was enough.

“Mum, I passed!!!!” Lisa almost shouted down the phone.

“Oh congratulations, darling; I told you not to worry”.  Her mum had told her all her life not to worry, but it was just something that Lisa seemed to be very good at.

“Do you know how Vanessa did?” Lisa waited with bated breath.  It was hard enough being a twin sister, but to have one who always seemed to do  better at everything had frustrated Lisa her whole life.

“I don’t know”, her mum replied, “but that doesn’t matter.  What matters is that you passed.  How are you going to celebrate?”

Her mum often tactfully changed the subject.  From the moment the twins were born Patricia had watched the girls compete endlessly at everything.  Who could walk first, talk first, hold their knife and folk first;  even as babies although they were too young to remember it, Patricia watched them competing against one another for her affection. Vanessa especially never seemed happy when she gave Lisa a hug and certainly wouldn’t accept a joint hug. 

Lisa hadn’t planned any celebrations.  She had been so worried that she hadn’t passed.  “I’ll give Polly a ring and see if she wants to go out.  I’ve got a big party on the weekend so need to reserve my energy for that”.  Lisa didn’t go into detail about her social life when she talked to her mum. 

“Well go out and treat yourself.  You deserve it”.  On the other end of the phone Patricia imagined Lisa going out for afternoon tea with her city friends; maybe to the Ritz in Green Park or the café at Selfridges.  Patricia had never lived in London, but loved getting dressed up for those special occasions - the theatre or a walk down Regent Street to browse around the shops.   Patricia never worried about Lisa.  She seemed to have endless friends and constantly be out partying or going away for the weekend.  It was Vanessa she worried about.

Vanessa had always been the biggest of the twins, from birth right up to when they stopped growing.  Although Vanessa had been the first to talk, Lisa had been the first to walk.  Lisa appeared keen to explore everything she saw, whereas Vanessa always appeared more interested in food.  She would sit at the high chair with her mouth open, slowing munching through her food.  Lisa on the other hand hated sitting still.  She learnt to gobble her food down as quickly as possible and immediately raise her arms, showing that she wanted to get down.  Only a few minutes later the food would be vomited all over the floor.  Patricia tried everything to try and make Lisa eat more slowly, but she refused to be fed, always wanting to feed herself.  If Patricia put small amounts of food in the bowl at different stages, Lisa would again scream until more food appeared in the bowl, which would then be swallowed in a couple of seconds.  Lisa often totally refused to eat, but Vanessa never pushed any food away.

“I’d better go” Lisa said quickly.  “I’ll give Vanessa a call later, but if you speak to her before me say congratulations”.  Lisa had no intentions of calling her sister.  Recently they only kept in touch via mum.

“Ok darling.  That would be nice if you could call your sister”.  Patricia sighed as she spoke as she knew that she would end up being the one passing the messages between the girls.  They only lived an hour away by train from each other but hadn’t seen each other for over a year now.  Even at Christmas time Lisa always seemed to be too busy to come home.  Vanessa on the other hand had never missed a Christmas at home.

Patricia would never have imagined the girls ending up following the same career path.  When they were young Vanessa had been the creative one.  At any opportunity she would be drawing or reading.  On family walks Vanessa would walk slowly, as if in a daydream.  She would then stop and pick up a leaf or a stone and put it in her pocket or her special bag.  Patricia seemed to endlessly be emptying out the ruck-sac only to find bits of dried up, broken leaf or a shrivelled acorn tucked away at the bottom. 

It had been a total coincidence that they had ended up taking the same exam at the same time.  Going to completely different colleges at least meant that they didn’t have to be in the same class, again.  Lisa deliberately tried to forget her years at school.  As she would say to her friends, “don’t get me wrong, I loved school, I just hated having a twin sister in the same class as me.”  Lisa went on to explain that the main irritation was that Vanessa did so much better than her at school, always getting better grades and always being the one to answer the teacher’s questions.  She was the real pet of the class.  In truth Lisa never wanted to be the teacher’s pet anyway and much preferred sitting at the back of the class so all she could make out was the back of her sister’s head.  She certainly didn’t want to see Vanessa’s smug smile every time she got a question right, which was all time.

Before their final exams at school both Vanessa and Lisa decided to take a year out before applying for a place at University; Lisa’s choice hadn’t surprised Patricia, but she had been certain that Vanessa would want to carry on her studies immediately. “Are you sure you want to take a year out?” Patricia asked Vanessa, not meaning to sound pushy or surprised.  “I thought you were going to apply for Biology at Exeter.”  When the girls were only six the family had taken a day out to London to visit the National Science Museum; Vanessa had been totally enchanted.  The whole time they were there Vanessa rushed around in excitement, continually asking questions, most of which neither Patricia or Mike could answer.  Lisa on the other hand had trudged along behind them, continually complaining that she was bored, and “when are we going home”, or “where is the playground?”

Throughout her time at school every biology teacher had always praised Vanessa for her knowledge and enthusiasm on the subject.  “You’ve certainly got a clever one here”, Patricia remembers Vanessa’s first biology teacher saying, “definitely going to be a vet or a doctor.”  Patricia had been especially excited to be told that.  She had always admired her doctor when she was a kid and when she had been giving birth to the girls in hospital she had enjoyed lying back watching all the smart looking doctors in the white jackets walking between the patients, politely speaking to each one in person. 

“I feel I need to discover a bit more about myself before I decide what career I want to go into” Vanessa explained.  Vanessa was the one who always sounded so serious.  “It’s not a laughing matter” was a phrase that Vanessa used almost since she had started talking at the age of 2.  “I have enrolled in to a couple of career courses in the local college”, Vanessa continued to explain. “It lasts for 6 months and during that time you go out to at least ten different work places for a week at a time and find out about how they generally work and their work ethics.” 

Lisa on the other hand never seemed to know exactly what she wanted to do when she grew up. “I’m going to travel the world” seemed to be her most popular choice, but as Patricia and Mike continually reminded her she would need to earn money to be able to do that.  Lisa would then say that she would get a job that sent her around the world, “I’ll be a journalist or a travel agent or I will write my own travel guides.”  Again, Lisa had to be reminded that she would have to earn money before she could afford to travel to the places she wanted to write about.  When Lisa said she wanted to take a year out before going to university it made total sense to Patricia and Mike.  “I want to really discover myself”, Lisa explained, “travel the world and meet different tribes who can help me choose what direction I should take in my life.” 

           

WORD COUNT: 1,815

2012 June - Singapore

The fans are swirling around above my head, one, two, three, four……. I’ve lost count.

Ahh, where’s the water! My mouth is on fire.  My fingers are aching.  The people around me make it look easy.  I’ve never taken so long to eat a simple plate of rice and vegetables.

I didn’t intend to come here.  The rain led me here.  It almost feels cooler outside than inside today.

It’s fallen off again! I give up.  I’ve got to get a fork.  It’s white and plastic and you immediately think food is going to taste nasty but it makes no difference to me.  Looking around I see most of the locals using one.

The short green crunchy vegetables are sure to help me.  I don’t know what they are but the doctor said I must start eating more green vegetables.   It felt slightly embarrassing when she asked me to tell her when I had last eaten anything green.  Does a peppermint sweet count?

There’s a girl standing by the drinks counter wearing a smart flowery dress and sandals.  Why does she keep looking at me?  I quickly look down to check I haven’t unknowingly poured half my plate of food down my white shirt.  Okay there is a tiny mark on my cream trousers but I’m sure that’s some of Lucy’s jam and toast.  If anyone asks I always blame the kids.

“Can’t take them anywhere,” I’d say.  It’s easier blaming someone else.  Done that all my life – “it wasn’t me it was her,” I would say, pointing at my sister.  And for some reason I’ve always been believed. Yes, I do regret some things.  My sister is nice about it though, and she very rarely mentions it.  I didn’t mean to lock her in the bathroom and turn off the lights.  It was a joke.  I thought she would be able to get out by herself.  Okay I told mum and dad that she’d gone to bed early, but how was I to know that she’d be too frightened to get out of the bath in the dark, move an inch or even squeal.  When I went to bed that night I remember my bottom feeling a lot hotter than the bath water had been when mum eventually realised that Toria was still in the bath.

Wait a minute, that girl is still looking at me.  Maybe I know her.  Maybe she knows me or we’ve seen each other somewhere before.  I really can’t think where though.  I’m pretty sure I remember most things from the other night.  It was dark.  And there were lots of people. 

She’s gone, phew.  She obviously needed something to distract her.  I don’t know how I managed to be a good distraction, but by the look on her face she preferred to look anywhere else besides the gentleman standing next to her.  He looked more like a colleague than a friend or lover.  Maybe they had had an argument at work or she had to meet him out of politeness.  Whatever it is she needs to learn some manners.

Strange though – there are three other women / girls (never know what to call us, woman sounds so old, like a grandmother) sitting right next to me, by themselves, minding their own business.  All three of them have a telephone in their hand.  One is looking straight at it, maybe playing a game.  Weird that these days telephones are played with more than held to the ear. The other girl is holding her phone up, but again looking directly in to it, not saying anything.  Me, I’m just looking and watching.

Oh god, I really should learn not to stare, even though most of the time I don’t know that I’m doing it.  I’m always telling the girls not to stare or say something inappropriate out loud.  I quickly look down.  I think he thinks I’m staring at him.  I didn’t mean to, honest.  Oh no, I think I may be blushing.  Okay, he is rather attractive.  Dark hair, lots of it; tall, but not too tall; good build, but not too broad or two muscular; nimble on his feet, like he wants to be always on the move.  The men here do appear quiet and reserved, more than the men I’m used to anyway.  Most of them look shy, cute and polite.  They don’t ever leer at you or whistle, or make jokes that they think you will find funny, but those that do don’t care if you don’t smile as all their mates around them are laughing and whistling even louder.

I haven’t looked up again yet.  Has he gone? Surely he’s gone now.  Like the rest of them he was probably only here to grab that essential midday fuel.  Food is not a treat, it’s a necessity.  Every living species has to consume some sort of fuel whether we like it or not.  I sometimes wish I didn’t have to eat – too many choices, too many right and wrongs.

“An apple a day keeps the dentist away;  5 a day helps you work, rest and play; no carbs – protein only;  polyunsaturated and unsaturated;…….” If I regimentally stuck to all the advised routines I think I would be digging myself an early grave.

Now she’s pretty.  Young looking, 21 I would guess.  I think she’s on holiday with her mum.  (apologies to the lady standing next to her if you are friends.) If she eats that everyday no wonder she looks so slim and youthful.  A small bowl of finely cut up pieces of fruit – melon, grapes, pears, apple and oranges I think. 

“Soya milk keeps you youthful,” maybe she drinks that every day?  She’s standing right next to the sign.

Bright pint - holly’s favourite colour; I haven’t seen a long dress in that colour before.  She looks busy talking to her friend who’s wearing purple – Lucy’s favourite colour.  It is a shame that in such a busy society today we don’t have the guts to simply go up and ask someone “where did you get that?” Would that be seen as being rude, intrusive or would it be seen as a compliment and taken more as flattery? I would see it as the latter.  But no one has ever stopped and asked me such a question.  Should I take that as a subtle hint?!

Now where did she get that?  It looks delicious.  I wonder if she asked for the extra topping of chocolate sauce and sprinkles or if it comes as one piece.  And before you ask it is not for me (I am telling myself this), it is for my daughters.  Holly would die for one of those.  It seems to come in a little bowl that looks like a boat.  And yes, Lucy would end up spilling it all over the floor and herself but she would laugh and I would try and laugh with her.  As long as I don’t have to clear up the mess, again.  One good reason to take them outside to eat – someone else will wash any mess away.  But of course sitting here I wouldn’t be able to feed her in just her nappy and then get her straight in to the bath.  You can’t win.  That’s when you need the garden.  Oh to be back home standing in our big kitchen overlooking the garden.  I’m kidding myself.  Once a year if we’re lucky it gets warm enough to open the kitchen doors and let the children play outside.  Even then they would be dressed in a cardigan and tights and possibly a woolly hat, not a sun hat.  We would have to turn the kitchen in to a sauna for it ever to be warm enough for the girls to eat in just their knickers.

It’s getting quieter now.  The midday rush is tailing off.  Everyone’s going back to work or back to whatever else they were going to do.  I can’t even see a single tourist.  But of course they have a tight schedule. How could I forget? The Hotel breakfast doesn’t last all day and they have been told by their tour guide about how hot it gets in the middle of the day so they are up bright and early and are ready for their lunch before the clock even strikes midday.  It’s three o’clock now.  The tourist bus will be full and every gallery humming with foreign voices.

We’ll be packing to go home next week.  I’ve only ever eaten here twice before.  It’s only a short stroll from our apartment but I never seem to find the time to come.  The food in the fridge is good enough – slightly shrivelled lettuce leaves, aging tomatoes and the remains of the pasta that the girls didn’t finish the night before.  But I bought the ingredients and cooked it with my own fair hands so it must be eaten. 

For the first time since I sat down the queue has gone for the sugarcane juice.  Only ladies work behind the juice bar counter.  They all look like mums, like me.  They’re probably wondering what I am doing, sitting here by myself, sipping my glass of green liquid, chilled with ice, which they made for me only an hour ago.  I’m taking a very long time drinking it.  All the ice has nearly melted.  It’s feeling hot in here again.  I’m relieved to see that the ladies do have even bigger fans operating directly behind their heads.  They don’t have much space to move, certainly the ladies who are slightly wider around the girth than others.  But they look content.

Some people are now walking away from the stall with cups of coffee - cups smaller than a French expresso  which usually make me feel faint.  Back home ladies would be accompanying this with a little “treat”, a scone with jam and maybe even some cream; a small slice of carrot cake, or even a piece of chocolate cake and some thinly sliced cucumber sandwiches.  I have missed my tea pot; bought as a wedding present from John Lewis, bright red with white spots.  You can fit enough tea in there to serve six mums, all thirsty after a busy day with the children.  Come to think of it that will be the first thing I use when we get home, accompanied with a slice of my mother in law’s Scottish shortbread and an episode of the archers.

I’ve enjoyed my stay here.  Have you ever been to Lego Land in Denmark? The original, first ever Lego Land where all the small streets are perfect and not a single speck of rubbish can ever be found.  Well I feel I have found my second Lego Land, just a thousand times taller and only a thousand times bigger.  Every street is immaculate and every building looks architecturally designed to the very last brick or pane of glass. Living on the 21^st Floor I feel like I’m only inches above the ground as I look over another four buildings even taller than ours, and I can’t even see the windows of the flats on the seventieth floor, let alone any living moving person.

I used to long for those holidays where I could swim outside every day in the open air, doing lap after lap of a fifty meter pool with no one to disturb me, never feeling cold, and wearing that beach dress and bikini that I’d hidden at the back of the cupboard until the time was right.  Now suggestions of a hotel by the beach - all inclusive massages, food and drink, and scuba diving - makes me shrug and say, “let’s go home” – and I mean home in Scotland, where I can dress the girls up in their purple double lined rain coats, their home knitted scarf, hat and gloves and we can all go and jump in muddy puddles in the park in our wellington boots.

2009 September - Safari in South Africa

 

The telephone on the bedside table let out a shrill ring.  I woke with a start. It was still dark outside.

 

“Thanks”, I heard my husband muttering into the phone, and then immediately roll over and fall back to sleep.

I tiptoed across the cold tiled floor in the bathroom and welcomed the sudden warmth of the bathroom tiles beneath my feet. 

The ranger had told us the previous night that we needed to be ready to leave by 6.15am; it was now 5.55 am and Nigel was still in bed.  We had told the babysitter that Holly would probably sleep past 6am so we would leave her in her cot in the bedroom; but as we crept towards the front door an inquisitive little head appeared above the cot with a big smile on her face.  Being carried out into the cold darkness and then handed over to a strange lady with out even being given her morning milk certainly came as a surprise. 

We snuggled up in the van with layers of blankets and furry mittens.  We had been very fortunate the previous afternoon to discover the “King of the South”; the most beautiful, sleek Lion imaginable.  In the stillness of the morning, as the sun began to rise, we spotted giraffes slowly waking up and craning their necks high into the sky.  Then the radio in the landrover suddenly became alive, informing us of a sighting of a mother Lion and her 3 cubs. 

There they were.  The landrover stopped.  The mother Lion turned her head to look over at us, but her eyes seemed to look straight through us and into the distance.  She glanced back over to her pups who were following close behind, and then turned back round and nestled herself into a small patch of grass.  The pups immediately took this as a sign that it was play time and started teasing and play fighting together.  I immediately thought of Holly back at the safari lodge, probably now demanding her morning milk feed and some breakfast, and hoped that she had forgiven us for deserting her.

The morning flew by. As the sun continued to rise, the landscape became more alive as herds of Rhino, Zebras and giraffes began to emerge.  Two baby rhinos were enjoying a morning mud bath, while three cheetah cubs were starting to explore a little further away from their mother.

As we stopped and topped up on hot chocolate, we gazed over the beautiful expanse of rolling hills and rough terrain.  Suddenly a loud grumble noise made everyone’s head turn towards me; after all it was now 10am and we had had no breakfast!

A delicious array of food was waiting for us back at the lodge.  I spotted Holly in the play room, plodding around the table as if she owned the place, carrying a selection of animals from one corner to the next.  The giraffe was cuddled up next to the lion and the rhino and the elephant looked like best friends.  If only life could be so simple.

In the brochure it was described as a “safari lodge with an attitude”, I had to agree that it was one of a kind.  Form the outside the Pagoda-style corrugated iron roof and the minimalist chic of the panelled walls appeared almost basic, but as your eyes adjusted to the unstoppable expanse of landscape and the subtle colour all blending into each other, the lodges became magical.  Inside, the spacious living area merged gently with the landscape, visible from all angels through glass doors.

2007 June - The Nice Iron Man

2007 June - The Nice Iron Man

I started running marathons in 2001 at the age of 29.  My first triathlon was in 2002 and I loved it.  I was even more delighted when I started to finish in the top 10 girls in the triathlons.  I am rather competitive. At the beginning of each race I would tell myself that I was just doing it for fun and my own personal achievement, but as soon as the starting gun goes the adrenalin burst kicks in and my competitive streak starts.

I have done countless triathlons, 9 marathons and swum goodness how many 1 mile swimming races.  Piece of cake.  So when friends started to tell me about the Iron Man race, the excitement of the challenge gave me the guts to sign up.

The crazy thing was, instead of starting gradually and signing up for a Half Iron Man race first, I went straight for the kill and signed up for the Nice Iron Man 2007.  I did not realise at the time that Nice Iron Man is one of the hilliest and therefore hardest of them all.

August 2006 – my entry was accepted.  The race date was June 2007 so I thought I had plenty of time to prepare.  Little did I realise the true extent of the training required.  I was already swimming on a regular basis for the Stock Exchange Swimming Championships, cycling or running 9 miles to work and back and training specifically for the Chicago Marathon in October 06.

I really had no idea how extreme the Iron Man race actually is, but how could you until you unless you have actually done it.  5km swim, 180km cycle and then 42km run (marathon equivalent).  I had swum 3 km before, I had cycled 100km and I had run many marathons.  But suddenly all three had to be extended and completed on the same day. 

Post Christmas 2006 the training diary had to be drafted.  It was only when I started to count down the number of weekends left before the race that it got rather scary, and it didn’t help that  I could not take any time off work during the week to train.

I did look a daily training regime for 6 months that a friend had used and also ones recommended on the web.  In the end I followed my own initiative.  As long as every other weekend I was cycling over 50 miles and or running 20 miles with a swim included I was happy.  It helped having friends living outside of London, so suddenly I found myself cycling to Oxford and Goudhurst to see friends and family.  The crucial aspect of the training was to learn to combine the swimming, cycling and running.  I was not too worried about transferring from swimming to cycling because I had been swimming a mile in the Tooting Bec Lido for years and then cycling 9 miles to work.  But I had very rarely cycled and the run apart from in Triathlon races.

My 2 main training days were scheduled for February and April.  Plan one, to cycle down to Brighton (57 miles) and then do the Brighton Half Marathon.  Very happy to finish the half marathon in 1hr40mins.  The next and major training day was the London Marathon.  One regular Iron Man competitor had warned me not to even take part in the London Marathon because it was too close to the Nice Iron Man.  But I thought that was daft.  Instead I found my local pool opened at 7am so I swam a mile in the pool and then cycled to Greenwich and then did the marathon.  Cycling to Greenwich felt rather eery, cycling down the marathon route back to front, but with the roads totally free of traffic and police giving me directions to the start.

My one big error that I was quick to learn from.  I did not eat enough.  It is difficult to comprehend eating a minimum of 200 calories an hour, but that is what is recommended when doing an Iron Man.  I am never very hungry early in the morning, so have never eaten before exercising in the morning, and then tucked into a large bowl of porridge after exercising.  I therefore only had a glass of orange juice before I went swimming.  I had packed plenty of lucazade gels and energy bars which I intended to eat after the swim and before cycling to Greenwich, but for some reason I was still not hungry after the swim.  By the time I arrived at Greenwich my nerves were buzzing and the thought of food had totally disappeared.  I therefore started the race having only eaten one energy bar, but having already swum a mile and cycled 8 miles. 

By the 8^th mile of the marathon I was already feeling tired.  As soon as I saw my pace decreasing and my finishing time getting nearer the 4 hour mark I just relaxed and started stopping and concentrating on drinking energy drinks and eating energy bars.  I crossed the line at 4hours02mins,  over half an hour longer than my usual time of 3hrs 22mins.  Looking back I must still have run at relatively the same pace as usual because the extra 30 mins was taken up going to London Ambulance for plasters for my blisters, stopping 3 times to walk and drink, and stopping to go to the toilet – something I have never had to do before during a marathon.  And yes, I did use a public toilet rather than do a “Paula Radcliffe” on the street!

Lesson learn – you must ensure you have eaten enough  and always keep your fluid intake up, although you can drinks too much.  Trust your initiative.

May – count down.  Principle training routine now was to keep up my strength and keep swimming and cycling. 

June – the final weeks.  I was starting to feel tired and I could only put it down to the extensive training I had been doing for the last 5 months.  My period was late but I put it down to the over training.   In 2002 when I was running around 50 miles a week my period stopped and it was only 1 and a half years later that it started again.  I was told that this can often occur to female athletes, and I certainly enjoyed the break.

The final day – My parents and I flew out to Nice on Thursday as registration was taking place on Friday and Saturday.  The race started at 6am on Sunday morning.  Seeing and listening to the other participants at the opening evening on Friday night made me even more nervous.  The Iron Man races are not called “Man” for no reason.  90% of the race were men, and men who looked like they were frequent Iron Man participants, and very competitive as well.  My appetite completely went again and I was feeling sick. 

I remember telling my Mum that I had not had my period for 6 weeks and I was feeling sick, but put it down to training and nerves.  I would never have imagined I could be 6 weeks pregnant.  Our daughter, Holly is now 4 years old and I can't wait to read her this story.