I’ve always been an ironman

People who do Ironman races are not iron men. They are normal people just like you and me, but with an ironclad determination that can move mountains. Find that determination within you and you will move mountains too.

It was the most difficult part of the race by far. I had already done the 3.8 kilometer swim


Walking on air in those final steps on the red carpet across the finish line of Ironman Barcelona 2017.

and the 180 kilometer bike ride. Now, “all” I had left was a 42 kilometer run. I was tired. I was sweating in the Spanish humidity like a pig. I really wanted to get out of my tri-suit, which I had been wearing now for more than ten hours, and jump into a shower. My quads were cramping in a way that made me think they might soon snap off of my knee bones. Even so, I found myself thinking, “This really isn’t all that hard!”

I realize how ridiculous that sounds. But what it really meant at the time was that I felt that the training I had done during the months before the race had prepared me well. I didn’t feel anything I didn’t expect to. Most importantly, I was able to keep going.

The real Ironman experience, I believe, is in the months before the actual race. So much is learned during that process about oneself and about the sport. I feel so privileged to have found a professional triathlon coach, Louise Hanley of The Triathlon Coach, who gave me a customized training program suited to my abilities and goals, while being able to adjust it as needed due to my shin splints that just never seem to go away completely. I now understand how fortunate professional athletes are to have support teams. It makes such a difference to be trained by people who know their stuff.

I don’t remember exactly when the idea of doing an Ironman entered my head. Probably soon after I started doing triathlons three years ago. My husband Colin had told me so many stories about the half Ironman he did in Florida many years ago. It sounded like a great challenge and lots of fun. I wanted to have that kind of experience.

But as I was in the process of trying to figure out how or when to do an Ironman, I fell from my bike and dislocated my shoulder while my husband and I were touring in Belgium. This eventually led to a very painful frozen shoulder and an operation. While still groggy from the anesthesia, a physiotherapist was already working on my shoulder to make sure it had full mobility. “Is my shoulder going to be all right?” I asked her. “I really want to do an Ironman.” As it turns out, this particular physiotherapist had done four Ironman races. She told me my shoulder would be fine and that I absolutely could do an Ironman. “Are you sure? I’ve only just started doing triathlons. Do you really think I can do an Ironman?” I asked her. I’ll never forget her words. They have been ringing in my ears ever since. “Do it. Do it!”

Nine months later, in October 2016, I registered to do Ironman Barcelona the following year.

My training with Louise began in January. The nine months of training were in some ways similar to a pregnancy. You get up in the morning feeling nauseated because you know you’ll have to go out and run in the dark and cold. All you want to do is go back to sleep, but if you don’t do the run now, you won’t have enough time for your job, which you need to pay your bills. Your whole day and months revolve around your training. It becomes the priority and everything else is there to support it. And you have one date in mind: the day you hope to deliver at that finish line.

The training is every bit mental as it is physical. It is not easy getting your self to do things it really doesn’t want to do. I eventually taught my self not to look too far ahead. Every morning, I’d look at the program and see what Louise had in store for me. Louise’s word became almost Godly. If a swim was scheduled for that day, a swim was going to get done. When I was feeling lazy, I would tell myself to go out and do the training session but that I didn’t have to push myself too hard. But then, during the session, I’d tell myself that as long as I was out, I might as well do the session properly the way Louise has asked me to do it. And so it was.

I was able to keep it all together until the taper. On September 1, Louise sent me my final monthly training program before the race. When I saw it, I realized the worst of the training was now behind me and I got tremendously excited. But by September 7, I was feeling fatigued and panicky. I began to have serious doubts that I would ever be able to beat the cut-off times on the bike course. To avoid being removed from the course because I was too slow, I would have to cycle at an average pace for a distance of 180km that I never managed to reach over smaller distances during training.

The panic stuck with me until the second I dived into the Mediterranean when the race


I was so anxious just before the race I might as well have been shitting myself.

started on the morning of Saturday, September 30. As soon as my body hit that water and my arms started to move, something clicked in my head: “Hey! I know this! This is familiar. I know how to do this.” All those months of training suddenly kicked in. I was so accustomed to jumping into a cold, dark, murky, weedy northern England lake, that getting into the gently rocking, warm Mediterranean seemed like heaven. That 3.8km swim was so enjoyable (ENJOYABLE!!) that I could have just removed myself from the race and kept swimming forever and ever.

Getting out of the water, I just automatically did what I always did during transitions in other races. Then I got on my bike and pumped those legs. It was all so strangely and comfortably familiar, even though I was doing it all in a completely new location. I made sure I followed my nutrition plan. I ate solid foods, took in gels, drank lots of water, and drank some energy drink. I made sure I was hydrated, replaced the


Ask me if I enjoyed the bike portion of the race that had me panicking for a whole three weeks before it. Go ahead. Ask me!

salts I lost in my sweat, and had enough energy to get me through the bike ride and through part of my upcoming run. I put myself in the aero position on my tri bars for the majority of the ride. And by the middle point of the first of the bike course’s 2.5 laps, I realized that I was going to nail this. When I passed my husband Colin at the end of the first lap, I yelled out to him, “I’ve got this, Colin!! I’ve got this!!” During the whole ride I had two mantras: “Make Colin proud.” And “Anything is possible,” something Becki, one of my triathlon club’s swimming coaches, stopped to tell me the evening before I left for Spain. If Becki says it, then it must be true, I was convinced.

That part of the race that I was most worried about was the part I most surprised myself in. My bike time was better than anything I could have possibly imagined for myself.

During transition two, I thought I’d reward myself for such a great bike time by taking a tiny bit of extra time in transition to change out of my sweaty socks and into nice dry ones. Little did I know that minutes later I would be pouring water over my sweaty body, only to soak everything, including those socks. (Lesson learned).

The run was the most difficult part of the race. No matter what, you are bound to be


I included this picture because it looks like I’m passing this incredibly fit-looking man. Let’s just ignore the fact that the run was comprised of three laps and he could have been on any of the three. I just want people to think this is the kind of guy I can beat during a run. The reality isn’t important.

exhausted after the swim and the bike. But again, running after a long bike ride was familiar. Louise had me do it many times in training. I was in familiar territory. So I just ran. I walked through every single feed station, drinking water, pouring it over my head, sometimes taking a gel and most times drinking energy drink. I had to stop a few times to stretch out my quads. I really did think they were going to snap. The pain was almost unbearable at times. But the stretches worked. And I just kept going till the next aid station or until the next unbearable quad cramp. I broke the run down into bits. Just run the next 2.5km until the next aid station. Just do the first half of this 13km lap. If you need to walk the rest, you can walk the rest. When I managed to run the first 16 km, I told myself to try to run the next 7.5km. When I finished the second 13km loop, I told myself I might as well just run the last 13 km loop. My pace didn’t matter as long as my legs kept moving forward in a slow jog. I knew that if I kept that up, I wouldn’t be disappointed in myself.

I had kept my eye on the time throughout the whole of the long bike ride. I needed to make sure I was going to beat the cut-off times for the bike loops. But during the run, I knew I had enough time to finish the race before the final cut-off time even if I walked the whole course. So I decided not to look at my watch at all. I didn’t want to be demotivated by finding out that I was going very slowly. I also needed to listen to my body and my body alone. I needed to do a pace that wasn’t dependent on time but was dependent instead on my body’s ability.

So, when I saw that I had one final kilometer to run and decided it was all right to check my watch, I was completely taken aback by the number I saw.

I had had no real sense of time during the 42 km run. I figured that it was more than possible that I was nearing the 15-hour mark since the start of the race. But my watch was telling me I had been out for just over 13 hours. I saw that number and said (out loud), “No no no no. Something is definitely wrong with this watch.”

You see, in the weeks leading up to the race, I had serious doubts about my ability to even finish it within the allocated cut-off times. I wasn’t being silly. I had never reached the overall average speeds during training that I would need to maintain in order to beat the cut-off times for the bike course’s loops. Even so, I thought that if I was really lucky and did manage to get through the bike course without being removed by the marshals, the best possible time I could ever dream for would be in the 14 hour 20 minute range. Even that, I believed, was pushing it.

So, when I realized that it looked like I was going to have a sub 13 hour 30 minute time, I was dumbfounded. I couldn’t understand it. The tears, of course, welled up in my eyes. As I turned the corner and was about to step onto the red carpet, a British couple cheered me on. I told them, “I think I’m going to cry!” The guy said, “Cry! Let it all out! You deserve it!”

I was so ecstatic though that I couldn’t even cry. And that’s saying a lot because I’m a huge crybaby. I stepped onto the red carpet and started yelling, “Woooooooohooooooooooooooooo!” saying it over and over again. I found Colin in the crowd. He grabbed my arm, gave me a huge kiss, looked me in the eye and told me how proud he was of me. I nodded my head and said, “I know!” Then I continued down that red carpet and my name was called out, “Nadia. You. Are. An. Ironman!” And I screamed down the rest of that red carpet, holding my arms out wide, taking it all in. It really was a wonderful moment to experience. The race I was hoping to finish within 15 hours 40 minutes, the cut-off for Ironman Barcelona, was completed in 13 hours, 16 minutes, and 57 seconds. Never would I have imagined that time in my wildest of wild dreams.

I need to emphasize that despite this being a great personal achievement for me, in the grand scheme of things this was just another race. You don’t need to be superman to finish an Ironman race. You don’t need to have superhuman abilities to achieve your academic, professional, or adventure dreams. You just need to have the courage to dream, a structured plan to get you there, and headstrong determination to follow that plan no matter what it takes.

People who do Ironman races aren’t iron men. They are normal human beings just like you and me. All they did was they believed in themselves. And that is all you need to do to achieve whatever you want in life.

Dream. Believe. Get a plan. Be determined. Achieve.


I have so many people I need to thank.

My husband, Colin, for his constant support of my crazy ideas. Thank you for always


I found this on my bed when I got back to the hotel room after the race. I have the sweetest husband in the world. Evil eye, stay away!

telling me how amazing I am. Not that I don’t already know it, of course. But I like hearing it from you. :-p You are my rock.

My kids, who are only aware of these things I do because I keep reminding them, for keeping me grounded and realizing what’s really important in life.

Louise Hanley, my triathlon coach, for giving me structure, advice and support. Your training program became akin to the word of God to me for months. And whatever it is that you put into it, it made magic happen.

Tom Waite, my personal trainer, for making me strong and never doubting that I’d do this.

All the Leeds Bradford Triathlon Club coaches and members who have given training, guidance and support.

Carl Akeroyd, you crazy man, for being so damned inspiring.

Philippe Evans, a twelve-time Ironman who is about to take part in the Ironman World Championships in Kona, Hawaii, for humbling himself and taking me out on those last three long rides when I needed the company the most. Smash it at Kona!

Becki Maud, for those last three words, “Anything is possible”, that became one of my two mantras on the bike ride.

Amany Khalil, an Egyptian woman who did Ironman Barcelona last year, for showing the rest of us Egyptian women that culture, age, and motherhood are no deterrent to achieving your wildest dreams. Thank you so much for standing in that horribly dark corner at the end of the running loop to cheer us on this year. It kept me going, knowing you would be there.

My best friend Arwa, for putting up with my crying, complaining, and having nothing to talk about except for my training for months on end. I love you to the end of the earth and back.

Stu Hart, for telling me all those months ago that I CAN.

The Ironman coach who, on a Facebook group for people registered to do an Ironman for the first time, told me that maybe doing an Ironman was not for me. This was because of a blog post I wrote, and posted in that group, about how difficult I was finding the training. I was saying that I never understood people who constantly talked about the “joy” that training brought them. The stuff is fucking exhausting! I find my “joy” in the sense of achievement afterwards. But I have always struggled mentally to get myself out of bed and out into the cold. Why do I thank her? Because she got me so mad that I was determined to prove her wrong. These sorts of events are MADE for people like me, lady.

The physio, who may or may not exist in real life, whose words have been echoing in my ears ever since my shoulder operation, “Do it. Do it!”



The real satisfaction in training

Man, can perspectives change in a relatively short period of time!

How I look is exactly how I feel here. This is just after finishing what was probably my first triathlon-involving a pool swim. This shit is HARD.

Yesterday evening I was feeling very tired. I’ve had weeks of hard training. Yesterday wasn’t any different. I did my morning gym session, came home to get some work done, then went back out for a very long bike fitting session to try to solve some of my on-going leg pain issues. I REALLY didn’t want to have to go to the lake for a swim. I was tired. I was cranky. It was dark and cloudy outside. But I’ve told myself that I was going to do everything possible to do all my training as best I could for the event that I am due to take part in in about five weeks time. My husband saw that I was tired and told me not to push too hard. I responded, “I’ve decided that I’ll only do four laps of the lake if I’m not feeling up to it.”

I’ll only do just four laps. That’s 1.8km. ONLY. My husband let out a “Ha! Times have changed!”

In May 2016, just over a year ago, we were driving towards another lake where I was going to participate in a triathlon for the first time that involved an open water swim. The few triathlons I had done before that involved pool swims. I cried the whole way there from anxiety. (more…)

Training: losing sight of the big picture

It’s very easy to get so caught up in one’s training for an event that one loses sight of the


It’s not about the event. But crossing that finish line sure does feel great when it happens! (This picture is from a past event).

big picture.

That “one” being moi.

I’ve been training for an event for months. Like so many others, I’ve put in a significant amount of time, effort and money to get myself to this event. The waking up early to do a training session before you start the workday. The going out in the evenings for a run or a swim in a freezing cold lake when all you want to do is sink into a couch to relax after a hard day of work. The visits to doctors and physiotherapists – and all the moolah that involves – in order to try to figure out what the heck is wrong with your foot and shin. The new gear – and all the money that involves – because it’s better than your old gear and might give you just a bit of a chance to finish your event. We invest A LOT in order to get ourselves to that start line.

But things intervene. Life intervenes. Family intervenes. Illness intervenes. Injuries intervene. And sometimes all we can think is: But this can’t happen! I need to train! I’ve already invested so much!

Just thinking that the event is the priority and everything else is an “intervention” or a hindrance is twisted. It’s TWISTED. (more…)

The Ramadan workout

I’ve been Ramadaning while keeping up a workout schedule probably for the past three

This was taken about two weeks before Ramadan. But it represents the same exact swim I did last Tuesday evening while fasting. It was actually quite an enjoyable swim!

years. I can’t remember what I did while I was in Egypt. If I did work out in Egypt during Ramadan, it will definitely have been at night after I broke the fast.

Since I moved to the UK, I’ve been getting more and more serious about my training. That means that it is very inconvenient to completely stop training during the one month of the year when Muslims fast from sunrise to sunset. A lot of fitness can be lost in a month.

But Ramadan follows a lunar calendar, and what that means is that in the few past and coming years, it’s happening in the summer months. That’s a real issue when you live in northern Europe. According to the timetable I’m following, it means I can’t eat or drink (yes, not even water) from about 3 AM till 9:30 PM. Also, the gyms in my area all shut around 10 PM and all the group training activities are held some time during the day.

So I’ve been testing my limits with working out while fasting for the past three years. (more…)

A good, gloomy day for an existential crisis

Today I woke up feeling like it’s one of those days when I need to have a full-blown IMG_3147existential crisis.

Don’t worry. These rarely last for more than a day or two.

I wish the writing bug bit me more often when I am in a solid, content state of mind. Being solid and content does happen to me sometimes, you know. Unfortunately for my blog readers, it’s my down states that make me feel like I REALLY need to write and get it all out there. Writing to me is what food can be to others. It makes me feel better when I’m down.

Ever since I woke up I’ve been asking myself: What the fuck am I doing with my life? And… Why does it seem like every single person who locks eyes with mine wants to drain my bank account?

When I find myself in this position, I’ve learned to ask myself another question: Well, what would you rather be doing?

Now that question is starting to feel like a trick question.  (more…)

Injuries: There’s always a way

In a few days time, a full year will have passed since I fell from my bike and dislocated my shoulder on a short training trip in Belgium. The following months were awful: I had chronic pain and rather than heal, my shoulder got worse. Eventually I was told that I had frozen shoulder. It was affecting everything. No matter how close I held my shoulder to my body, running led to shoulder pain so I had to stop. Cycling and swimming were out of the question. I couldn’t even drive. I was saved by a shoulder operation to break away the scar tissue that had formed inside my joint, preventing it from moving. Then I had to deal with weeks on end of real, chronic pain and physiotherapy. But I was determined to get better and to keep as much of the range in my shoulder joint as possible. That meant persevering with the painful, daily exercises.

The operation was in January this year. Since then, I did lots of training and participated in three triathlons, two of them Olympic-distance. I probably reached the fittest I had ever been. I recall saying the exact same thing just after I dislocated my shoulder and feeling utterly distressed because of all the fitness I would lose for lack of continuity in training. It’s different now. I’ve had a knee injury since the beginning of August and a shin splint just wanting to make a guest appearance on the Nadia show. Both of them have meant that I had to become very conservative in my training and when that didn’t make them go away, I stopped running, cycling and any gym-related work that put pressure/stress on my knee.

Now, that shoulder that kept me from doing anything at all not so long ago is one of the few things that’s allowing me to keep active.  (more…)

My magic-bubble treatment for PMS and anxiety

I hate what PMS does to me.

In recent years, probably over the past decade, I’ve become a more anxious person. I’ve learned coping mechanisms to deal with anxiety, but it’s an exhausting state to be in. PMS takes my base anxiety levels and shoots them through the roof.

The good thing is that I’m aware of this and that helps me mentally manage it. The bad thing is that I have to live through a state of inner turmoil caused by high-wired chemicals and hormones.

How does one explain what it’s like?

When I’m PMSing, it feels like there’s a small electric undercurrent moving through my body. I feel the slightest bit nauseous. It feels like something bad is about to happen. Since I don’t know what that bad thing might be, my brain wants to identify something bad for me so that I can put logic to the way I feel. That means my brain starts acting all stupid. It’s like a computer is turned on in my head that starts sifting through all the data of the things happening in my life and it then lights up certain data in particular, deciding these three things must be the cause of how I feel.

When I’m not feeling anxious, when I’m not PMSing, those three things won’t even catch my attention. But when I’m anxious and PMSing, they turn into huge issues that need to be dealt with and need to be resolved.

The good thing is that I’m usually conscious of all this so I do my very best to process the data and put it into its proper context. (more…)

Smashing the UK national three-peak challenge

Ever since I was a little girl…

…is NOT where the story of this next grand adventure begins.

In fact, I can think of only one grand adventure of mine (which happened not to be sport or activity related) that originated in my childhood. I’m constantly coming up with new dreams and new ideas for adventures.

This story actually starts here:

I'm not sure which mountain this was taken on. The backgrounds in our pictures on all three summits are almost identical. Let's just say it was bleak.

I’m not sure which mountain this was taken on. The backgrounds in our pictures on all three summits are almost identical. Let’s just say it was bleak.

Ever since about four years ago when I first heard of the UK’s national three-peaks challenge, I’ve wanted to give it a go.

I have no idea who thought of this idea or when. I’m not even going to look it up to tell you about it because to me, that part is irrelevant. The national three-peaks challenge is about hiking up the three highest mountains in Scotland, England and Wales in a period of 24 hours.

It’s not an official race. There are no official times. There aren’t marshals or registration forms. There’s no one to announce you’ve accomplished the task. There are no certificates at the end or event T-shirts. There isn’t a specific day to do it, although I hear throngs of people choose to do it on June 21, the longest day of the year.

You just go out and do it.

I’ve been nagging my husband ever since I heard of this being “a thing” that we go and do it ourselves. He had already done it twice. He wasn’t enthusiastic in any way to do it a third time. I couldn’t understand why. My husband is huge on physical activities and challenges. But after four years of nagging and an opportune relatively free summer, he obliged.

He put together a team of five. It’s better to have a few people with you because the challenge involves an incredible amount of driving. Only days before our set date, two of the five pulled out, leaving us with a small team of three: me, my husband, and one of his work colleagues who also, it just so happens, was our third team member on our grand cycle from London to Paris in three days only three years ago.

I knew the national three-peaks challenge would be challenging. It wouldn’t be called a challenge otherwise. (more…)

Mind Games

A 20-kilometer bike ride for a cyclist is like putting chewing gum in your mouth and spitting it out. It’s

This picture is probably a year old. Today it was dreary out. No sun. But I was wrapped up just as warmly.

This picture is probably a year old. Today it was dreary with no sun. There were no lakes in the background. But I was wrapped up just as warmly.

nothing. A 20-kilometer bike ride for me when I’m fit isn’t as easy as spitting out chewing gum but it’s a nice morning’s ride. Today’s 20-kilometer bike ride was a really big deal.

Today was the first time for me to be on my bike since I got frozen shoulder sometime in November 2015 and subsequently did an operation mid-January 2016. It’s the second time I’ve been on my bike since I fell and dislocated my shoulder in October 2015.

My husband sort of cajoled me into it. We’d cycle into the nearby village and have a nice lunch, he said. He knows that food is my weak point. I knew I had to get back on my bike sometime and I knew my shoulder could handle the 20-kilometer round trip. I also knew my real challenge would be mental.

Once you’ve been through the mind games a couple of times you know what to expect and you know you can handle them.

Today, cycling downhill felt like I was about to summersault down the hill. Every pothole and drain looked exactly like a Nadia-eating woman trap, designed specifically (of course) for Nadia. Building up speed felt like an invitation to a horrible slip. And cars passing by were all the enemy.

But I recognized every single one of those thoughts from previous experiences. When I first started cycling as an adult about three or four years ago, those were the thoughts that went through my head. When I started challenging myself with my cycling, those were the thoughts that went through my head. When I fell off my bike the first and second times and got back up again, those were the thoughts that went through my head. And when I went out on my bike for the first time after my shoulder dislocation, those were the thoughts that went through my head.

I recognized every single thought and knew how to dampen them out. (more…)

It’s not all about the glory but it helps

It’s not all about the glory.

But the seconds or minutes of glory that we sometimes get make all the other times bearable or even worthwhile.

Promise me you’ll do yourself a favor: Choose something that you feel is really important to accomplish. See it through to the very end no matter how hard it is. Revel in the glory of your accomplishment. Then remember that feeling when the hard times hit. You won’t regret it. I promise.

You don’t have to get gold in the Olympics or produce a number one hit single to feel the glory, by the way. Little things work too.

Maybe you’ve always wanted to learn to make a two-tiered cake. Do it. And revel in the glory your kids will give you.

Maybe you’ve always wanted to learn a language. Or get a degree in something. Or start a small business of your own.

Maybe you simply want to get fit and never thought for a second that you’d be able to run a whole ten kilometers. (more…)