Half a Length to IRONMAN Wales 2026 – A personal journey from learning to swim to the IRONMAN finish line
To understand the title of this write-up, we need to travel back a few years. Grab yourself a cup of tea or coffee, because this may take a little while! Some of you already know the story and will probably be laughing at the title. For everyone else, bear with me. I’ll try to keep it relatively quick.
Back in November 2023, someone at work asked me, “Fancy doing an Olympic triathlon together?” That someone was Luke Stoward. We’d done a bit of running and cycling together at a work team-building event called UK Challenge.
He told me I had about six months to train. Then came the obvious question: “Can you swim?”
“Umm… NO! I CAN’T SWIM.”
“Everyone says that.”
“NO, NO. I ACTUALLY CANNOT SWIM.”
He said I’d better start learning, then. And that was that. 😊
(Luke and I from 2017 UK Challenge Trip)
A quick search for swimming clubs in Gloucestershire didn’t reveal much, but a chat at GL1 reception led me to Tri Team Glos, a club that welcomed adult beginners. I sent an email. This was still around the tail end of the pandemic, when plenty of things hadn’t quite returned to normal.
My first club swim was on a Wednesday evening. I met Jon M, who asked whether I had any swimming experience. I think I said I could float—which was an exaggeration! Jon mentioned that some of the club were heading to Nice for a 70.3. I genuinely didn’t understand a word of it. What on earth was a 70.3?
I also turned up in baggy shorts. 😊 A fellow club member quickly spotted the problem and advised me to change into something more appropriate. I’ve learned a huge amount from people at the club, often simply by turning up, listening and having a chat.
I’ll always remember Charlie saying, “Yes, we’ll train you.” And so began my adult swimming lessons.
I didn’t do an open-water triathlon in 2024, but Luke did—and did very well. I completed the club triathlon in August 2024, then the Lydney Last Tri in October. That was my first Olympic-distance event, although the swim was a 750 m pool swim. I also started supporting triathlons that year, including 51Fiver and IRONMAN Weymouth, and loved the atmosphere. By then, I’d signed up for IRONMAN 70.3 Swansea in 2025. Oh, and by this point I finally knew what “70.3” meant. Haha.
I’ve written a separate report about 70.3 Swansea, so I won’t repeat that whole story here. But now you’re up to speed with my progress—and you understand the title. When I first started swimming, I’d manage half a length, grab the wall and then swim back, terrified of the 2 m depth at the other end. Now you know.
The journey so far
- Club Triathlon — August 2024
- Lydney Last Triathlon — October 2024
- Ayia Napa Olympic Triathlon — March 2025
- 51Fiver Olympic Triathlon — May 2025
- Blenheim Sprint — June 2025
- IRONMAN 70.3 Swansea — July 2025
- Oxford Tri Olympic — August 2025
- Ayia Napa Olympic Triathlon — March 2026
- 51Fiver Olympic Triathlon — May 2026
- 113 Classic — July 2026
- IRONMAN Wales — September 2026
Honestly, I was more nervous about the 1,900 m swim at Swansea than the 3.8 km swim at IRONMAN Wales. By then I’d done much more swimming, and I’d started to build confidence. Swimming is a hard gig; getting comfortable in the water takes time and work. Having a coach helped, too. If you’re planning a full-distance triathlon, I’d strongly recommend getting one.
Pre-race: building towards Wales
I lined up the year with a few milestones to prepare for IRONMAN Wales, starting with a marathon in May—and that went far better than I’d imagined. A marathon may be shorter than a full-distance IRONMAN in terms of the overall day, but make no mistake: racing one hard is a serious effort in its own right.
The race was on 4 May. May the Force be with you! (That one’s for the Star Wars geeks.) The Force was strong that day: I ran 3:31:03, around a 15-minute personal best. I was absolutely chuffed.
Next came our local 51Fiver, an event I love—and, of course, ‘Shouty Dave’! It was a very chilly start and I didn’t enjoy the swim at all. Strangely enough, I raced well, beating the previous year’s result in every discipline and improving my overall time by another 15 minutes. So far, the year was looking good.
June brought our club’s Dragon Ride festival, with a bunch of us taking on different distances. Cycling is the discipline I enjoy most—not that I’m any good on the hills. Downhills, maybe. 😊 We were lucky with the weather, but there were a few literal obstacles: someone had thrown tacks onto sections of the descents, and several riders picked up punctures. That meant extra time at mechanics’ stands at different feed stations.
I was lucky. Between the third and fourth feed stations, I noticed my tyre pressure was low and only needed to pump it back up. The rest of the day was long and tough. We rode the route in the reverse direction this year, so some climbs didn’t appear as expected on our head units—and there were some seriously long, draggy ascents. I finished the Devil route in under 12.5 hours of riding time, or around 13.5 hours including breaks.
The next milestone was a scary one: the LCW 3.8 km swim. Swimming was still my weakest discipline, so I was nervous. Fortunately, I shared the drive to Tenby with Mark Rod, who had done Wales several times and was great company. As you’d expect, a road trip quickly becomes a full discussion about dos and don’ts, what to worry about and—just as importantly—what not to worry about.
A group of us from the club had also formed a mini base at Molly’s. Molly, James and Neil were doing the full event. I had a gravel ride planned for the following day, but more on that shortly. After a few pleasantries and pictures at the beach, we headed towards the start. I looked particularly worried, so Adey gave me one of his brilliant pep talks: “Just go to that buoy and only think about that for now.” It genuinely helped. I did that five times.
The swim out to the distant buoy felt choppy, but the return leg wasn’t as bad. I was worried about the one-hour cut-off for each lap, so I glanced at my watch during the Aussie exit. It showed 45 minutes, which was great news for me. The second lap was mentally easier because I knew what to expect. I finished comfortably within the cut-off, in 1:34:16—far better than I’d expected. Another good day.
The gravel ride—and an unwelcome setback
The next day was the Stone Circle ‘The Rebel’ gravel route: 137 km with 1,700 m of elevation. It was a decent ride, and I didn’t crash, but it was another hard day in the saddle. The pressure through my feet on those climbs was considerable. I felt a hot spot, although it wasn’t much worse than what I’d experienced the previous year on the longer 220 km route with 3,125 m of elevation. I’d deliberately chosen the middle distance because I had the swim the day before. Sensible, I thought. Haha.
Unfortunately, my foot swelled and became painful just below the ball of the foot. It wasn’t ideal: I had to stop training for a week and a half, with no running, swimming or anything else. And I was only two weeks away from the 113 Classic.
The 113 Classic was the middle-distance event I’d chosen this year, and the timing fitted well with my IRONMAN Wales preparation. I shared the course with Dave, Ruth, Gary, Jen and Neil. Dave, Neil and I were doing the full event; the others were doing the Aqua Bike. It was a non-wetsuit swim, as we were in the middle of another July heatwave.
Just two weeks earlier, I’d been unable to walk properly because of my foot. I’d honestly considered dropping down to the Aqua Bike, so finishing the whole event felt like an achievement. The bike course was also shortened by 6 km because of roadworks. I was very happy with the result, dodgy foot and all. Unfortunately, the foot swelled up again the next day, so I had to take another week off. At least I’d managed to complete the race.
The final build
That left IRONMAN Wales as the big event still to come. Training volume began to climb, and the running and cycling got pretty intense. Not going to lie: I love this shit. I enjoy long rides and long runs, and I was loving the training. During some of the heavier weeks, I’d run a midweek half marathon at an easy pace and still fit in a five- or six-hour bike ride at the weekend.
Some of those rides with club mates were especially enjoyable. Training for a long-course event alongside around 20 other club athletes also meant we could do course-reconnaissance rides together. Looking back at the gallery of rides and dinners we shared, I feel very lucky to have had that experience with them.
The summer of 2026 seemed to fly by. It was a good one: hot days, plenty of cycling and plenty of running. Onwards and upwards.
September 2026
The taper began after some seriously long pool swims at the end of August. We were all looking forward to the most anticipated day of the year: 13 September 2026.
Race week
The memes started flying. With a little more time on our hands and our feet, we kept each other entertained with funny memes and Instagram forwards. We’re all guilty. Most of the group travelled to Tenby on Friday to register. I decided to travel early on Saturday morning, which ultimately helped James reunite with his beloved cycling shoes that afternoon.
Race day
On race morning, you’re unlikely to see everyone. People are busy dealing with their own checklists: nutrition, tyre pressure, Di2 batteries, bike computers, nerves, toilet breaks, pink bags and everything else. I did manage to spot Steve, Tricky, Pete and Hannah, though, and it was a real comfort to see familiar faces in a sea of athletes.
Before I quite realised what was happening, I was on the beach beside Pete and Hannah. We were all remarkably calm. Then the starting pens began to fill, and everyone moved into position. I obviously don’t have many pictures of the day from my own perspective, so I’ve included images to give you a feel for the atmosphere.
I think most of us were somewhere around the same area, but I couldn’t see a single familiar face in the crowd around me. Soon came the Welsh national anthem, the music and the start. Before I knew it, I was swimming towards the lifeboat turning point.
Swim — 1:58:31
For a change, I felt as though I was swimming well at the start. I know that because I checked the time later—I still don’t really understand why some swims feel good and others don’t!
I was genuinely pleased with 1:58:31. I’d only completed two middle-distance triathlons and hadn’t done huge amounts of long-distance swimming. To go under two hours after learning to swim only two years earlier felt brilliant.
I’d been worried about the hourly cut-off. As I ran around Goscar Rock, I glanced at my watch and saw 55 minutes. I thought, ‘This can be done.’ I came out of the water in 1:58 and had a smile on my face as I ran uphill from the beach towards transition. My biggest hurdle of the day was over—or so I thought!
Bike — 8:01:41
I’m a little disappointed with my bike leg. As I’ve said, I love long rides—not because I’m particularly good at them, but because I enjoy being out on the bike and exploring new places. I’d really looked forward to this ride. Unfortunately, visibility on the day was absolutely shite.
I was trying to clear the water droplets from my visor when I came off the bike just after Angle. It didn’t cost me much time, but it broke my watch, which went into crash mode. I lost track of where I was against my planned race time. Thankfully, my bike computer was still recording, although it had been running since around 5:30 that morning.
The second crash cost me much more time. On the dreaded descent at Wiseman’s Bridge, the rider in front of me stopped. I braked hard, my wheel locked up, and I skidded into the muddy wall. The impact damaged my rear derailleur, which also went into crash mode. I had to run the bike up a hill and take shelter by a café between Wiseman’s Bridge and Saundersfoot while I looked for help getting the derailleur working again.
If you don’t know how to get your derailleur out of crash mode, I’d suggest learning how—it can be valuable knowledge. With help from some local heroes, I eventually got back on the road after about an hour.
That second crash called for a serious pep talk. I gave myself a good talking-to: “NO MORE FUCK-UPS, PLEASE!”
Both crashes had other consequences. The first left road rash on my left arm and elbow, making it almost impossible to stay comfortably in the aero position. I ended up riding my TT bike more like a road bike for around 140 km. The second crash did more damage to my right quad, which had swollen significantly. I could feel it while climbing at Saundersfoot from the first lap.
I also want to say that I saw and heard many of our wonderful TTG supporters. If I seemed a bit unresponsive, it was because I was concentrating on staying upright! Thank you to everyone who cheered me through transition and out on the course—Molly by the beach, Ryan and so many others on the road. A special mention to Karen, my Airbnb host; I’ll come back to her later.
Thankfully, the second lap was less dramatic. I eventually made it to T2, although I was genuinely worried that I might be close to the cut-off.
Run — 5:00:37
As you ride back into Tenby towards T2, you can see athletes already out on the run. That’s always the case. For me, I could see the entire fleet of TTG runners. Our club colours were easy to spot from miles away, and I think I saw most of them—some were already on their final lap. I’m sure a few spotted me, too.
Since the first crash, my watch had been sitting in the back pocket of my tri suit because it was stuck in crash mode. At T2, I started a fresh run and decided I’d check the time only once each lap. That’s what I did. I ran by feel, keeping things in Zone 2, as I’d been practising in training. When I checked my time each lap, I was reasonably close to my course-reconnaissance run, which helped me feel more settled.
Even so, I was carrying the weight of everything that had gone wrong during the day. I just kept moving, one lap at a time.
An IRONMAN at last
After 15 hours, 20 minutes and 32 seconds, I became an IRONMAN.
In hindsight, I was lucky to finish after so many things went wrong. Some people didn’t make it to the finish, and that’s a reminder of just how tough these events are. Sometimes you can do everything right and still get caught out. There’s an element of luck in an event this big, alongside all the hard work that goes without saying.
I feel incredibly lucky to have shared this experience with my club mates, and I’ll definitely do it again. Next time, I’ll try to keep it rubber-side down.
Before I finish, I have to tell you about Karen, the Airbnb host who dropped us off on race morning. Her place, the New Overlander Inn, is just 3 km from transition, right on the bike course. At around midnight, after stashing my bike and gear at Adey’s (thanks again!), I was heading back and rang Karen to see whether she was still in the pub downstairs.
After hearing about my day, she simply said, “Stay put. I’ll come and pick you up.” It almost brought tears to my eyes. I was hobbling quite a bit, as you can imagine, and she really saved me. Wales and its people are amazing.
I forgot to take a picture with her, but I made sure to give her a lovely hug goodbye the next morning. It was a small act of kindness after a very long, difficult day, and I won’t forget it.
And that, finally, is how someone who once struggled to swim half a length became an IRONMAN . Thank you to everyone who helped, encouraged, coached, cheered and shared the journey with me. This one was ours as much as it was mine.
