How I Prepare for the Impossible!

People often ask me how I prepare for my challenges. The honest answer? Slowly, methodically, and occasionally lying on my side with a bucket nearby.

The last few years have gone by in a blur of medals, marathons, mistakes, and moments of absolute magic. It started in 2022 with two triathlons, four half marathons, one full marathon, and...casual flex...my first two world records. The year after? Another world record. This time for going round a track for 12 hours non-stop. It was gloriously weird. Then came a half marathon world record (again!) followed by the iconic, exhausting John O’Groats to Land’s End wheel. Somewhere in there, I may have accidentally redefined what “rest days” mean.

So, how do I prepare? That’s trickier to answer than it should be. Most of the prep happens long before the start line... mentally, emotionally, and physically. When it comes time to actually do the event, I try not to think too hard. Because by then, the heavy lifting is done. Literally and figuratively.

When I started this journey, I had no clue what to expect. Every event was a first: my first triathlon, my first marathon, my first half marathon. Firsts are terrifying, by the way. Like “12 hours on a track in blistering heat” terrifying. That day was physically brutal and emotionally humbling. I learned the value of having clear instructions (and snacks), speaking up when I needed help (still working on that), and accepting that people will see you struggle... and that’s okay.

I don’t like people seeing me in pain. I tend to go quiet when I’m struggling. So, doing a world record attempt with an audience while sliding into heatstroke? Not exactly my comfort zone. But I made it through, helped by amazing people who stuck by my side, some of whom didn’t even know me beforehand.

That’s why this year feels so different. I have an incredible team around me now. The kind who’ve seen the worst and still show up. The kind who remind you what joy looks like, even in the middle of madness. The kind who make me feel safe enough to believe that this time, the end of the event will feel good. This year’s event officially starts on August 10th, but we’re doing a “dummy start” on August 8th at Twickenham (for press and staff). I’ll be holed up in a hotel that Saturday, mentally preparing the same way I always do:

1. Step One: Meds. Not glamorous. Absolutely necessary. I’ll spare you the details, but let’s just say it involves nausea, Haribo, and a hope-and-pray relationship with a very unkind medication.
2. Step Two: Pizza. Gluten-free, of course. Pizza is the pre-race tradition. That and my carefully packed breakfast of muesli, granola, and a spoon I never forget.
3. Step Three: Inspirational Movies. “Rocky.” Documentaries. Anything where someone defies the odds. Although weirdly, the night before a big event, none of it seems to sink in. My brain’s just too busy trying not to panic.
4. Step Four: Kit Ready. Everything’s packed in exactly the right way, from my chair to my coffee to my lucky charms, which include a badge from Olympic triathlete Flora Duffy (yes, really) and a new fluffy reindeer that feels like holding a tiny kitten. I haven’t named it yet. Suggestions welcome.

But beyond all the rituals and prep, the biggest mental trick I’ve learned is this: pretend it’s just training. That’s it. That’s the magic. Whether it’s a 12-hour slog around a track or wheeling the length of Britain, I trick myself into thinking it’s just another day. Just another session. Just another me-versus-the-road moment. It works. (Mostly.)

And yes, there's always a fundraising goal that sits quietly in the back of my mind like a slightly disappointed parent. I haven’t hit my dream target yet. Not once. But maybe this is the year. Maybe women’s rugby will get the backing it deserves, and this wild ride will actually raise what I hope it will.

I don’t play rugby... though I absolutely would if someone gave me a higher amputation and a decent prosthetic. (No joke, there’s full-contact disability rugby league up north. I’ve got my eye on it. Just don’t tell Cat.)

So here we go. A week to go. Bags half-packed. Spirit fully engaged. And fingers tightly crossed. If all goes well, this time, I’ll be at the finish line on the 20th. Probably tired. Possibly emotional. Definitely hungry. But hopefully, with a full heart, and a fundraising total that says: we did it.

And maybe, just maybe, with a name for my lucky reindeer too.

But definitely along side an amazing team who know what the word 'support' means. They are all exceptional, fun, honest and kind. They are the superheros of this event. They are incredible.