Scrums in the water, cheering wrestlers, unrideable climbs and a champagne finish: my Ironman Leeds highs and lows

Black Hill Road. Lap three. A biting headwind. My neck screaming. I glance up and see the same slope that’s already broken countless riders today, writes Michelle Farrow.

And as the lads around me clip out and walk, I dig in. I stay on the bike. I’m not getting off. Not now. Not after everything. I also couldn’t let the Sheep House Lane Wrestlers down… could I? 

Getting to this point was nothing short of a miracle. Training for Ironman Leeds while juggling what felt like two full-time jobs and all the usual life chaos was always going to be tough. 

But I don’t think I truly appreciated just how brutal it would be. 

There were weeks I couldn’t train at all. Illness, hormonal disruption, and sheer exhaustion from trying to adult and exist in a busy world meant that consistency often nearly went out the window. 

Training troubles

I did what I could, when I could. And it never felt like enough. 

But then there was Morzine. I signed up for a training camp in the Alps as a last-ditch attempt to rekindle my motivation. 

It worked. Something about those endless switchbacks and mountain climbs shook the fear out of me. I stopped seeing hills as obstacles and started seeing them as a challenge I could rise to. 

That change in mindset made a world of difference. The other game-changer? A course recce. Having the chance to ride the bike course a few weeks ahead of time gave me an invaluable sense of familiarity.

 It didn’t make it any easier, but it took away the unknown and in a race like this, that’s half the battle. I also made a major investment in a new road bike with electronic gearing. 

Let’s just say it paid for itself on Black Hill Road alone. The climbs in Leeds are relentless, and having smooth, reliable shifting helped me stay in control and conserve energy – especially when my brain wasn’t at full capacity. 

Disaster strikes 

Things did go wrong though. I was fighting a cold in the week leading up to the race. That familiar sense of dread crept in – what if I can’t even start? 

But I rested, loaded up on zinc and fluids, and kept everything crossed. Come race day, I was still sniffly and tired, but I was upright. Good enough. 

The swim was, in a word, horrific. We were rushed into the water, and it was chaos from the moment we started. I felt like I was swimming for my life.

There were bodies everywhere. Every time I tried to find a rhythm, I’d get smacked in the head or kicked in the stomach. 

Front crawling into chaos

The tight corners around the buoys turned into mosh pits. There was no space, no order. I spent most of it just trying to survive. 

The fact it was a two-lap swim made things worse – faster swimmers were ploughing through the middle, lapping us. It felt never-ending.

Due to the mix of right and left turn buoys, it was near impossible to avoid the crush of people. I’ve never been more relieved to see dry land! 

After a short uphill jog to T1, I started fuelling immediately and got onto the bike. And… it was raining. Of course.

Still, I knew the first 30 minutes were critical. I started my bottle of Precision Fuel and Hydration Flow energy gel early and started on my little stash of chews, Rice Krispies, and electrolytes. I had a plan, and I was doing my best at sticking to it. 

Speaking of energy, I need to give credit where it’s due: Total Endurance Nutrition saved me.

I’m notoriously bad at fuelling and hydrating properly, but they helped me put together a personalised nutrition plan that actually worked.

It was simple, trialled, and tested – and on a day when everything else could (and did) go wrong, that part didn’t thanks to the failsafes we had in place. 

Then, disaster: my rear derailleur stopped working. I’m not bike tech savvy at all. In fact, I struggle to fix a puncture. But there was nothing I could do but keep pedalling and hope it resolved.

After some frantic leg spinning and clicking on the gears, it woke up! I stayed calm and focused on pacing, fuelling, staying upright. 

The only way is up

Thanks to the recce, the hills felt familiar. Still relentless, still painful, but manageable. I kept things steady. I didn’t want to burn out too early. 

The descents were thrilling – I hit new top speeds and felt confident. Aid stations went smoothly, another massive win. 

And my bright pink Tri-fit tri-suit made me easy to spot and earned me a few new friends along the way. Chatting with people kept my spirits up. 

Then came Black Hill Road. The vibes were insane. Cowbells, cheers, music, people shouting my name. I felt like a rockstar. 

I dug in, powered up, and overtook everyone around me – mostly men. No one passed me on that climb. I’ll never forget that feeling. 

The slog starts

But Ironman is always a rollercoaster. Soon after, I got a bad stomach cramp. Fuelling became tricky. I held off gels and switched to bananas from aid stations. 

My personal needs bag was a godsend. I stopped halfway through the bike leg, reset, and got moving again. 

As the stomach pain eased, my neck started screaming. I’m guessing it was all the climbing – over 2500m of it.

Lap three of the bike course was a slog. A nasty headwind didn’t help. It was all about grit. I had one more encounter with Black Hill Road and once again passed a crowd of people walking their bikes. 

I asked a group of men if they were ready for it. “Nope,” one said – and dismounted. I didn’t. It was quieter this time, but the fancy-dressed wrestlers still made me laugh. My boyfriend’s cheers along the route kept me going too. Like my personal need bag… he’s a godsend. 

Coming into T2, I was surprised by my two best friends – completely unexpected! I was overwhelmed. Tears flowed as I realised how much I needed that emotional boost before tackling a marathon. 

I changed kit, fuelled up… and then set off without my race number. Oops. Back to T2. Now the run. Heart rate was okay, breathing fine. Legs… borderline. Mentally? I was wobbling. Four laps. How was I going to do this? 

After 10k, I started doing walk-run intervals. The hills just kept coming. I had a quick toilet stop (thankfully the women’s portable loo was cleaner, though it takes more than a box of tampons to make a space female-friendly, let’s be honest). 

I felt better after that and pressed on. 

Better together 

At my lowest point, the universe sent me Michael – a local police officer and seasoned Ironman athlete. He was my saviour. We stuck together for about 25k, walk-running and encouraging each other. I honestly don’t think I’d have finished without him. 

Crowds were incredible, especially earlier in the day. My pink tri-suit stood out and I got so many cheers. Strangers shouting my name, offering high fives, lifting my spirits when I felt like quitting. Thank you, whoever you are. You kept me going.

The final 20k were rough. My stomach was queasy, so I ditched the nutrition plan and just had water and sips of Coke. 

A race against the night

It was getting dark. Supporters were thinning. Michael and I were now doing maths – would we make the cut-off? We thought so, but can we trust our maths after a long day of triathlon? 

We broke it down: cone to cone, lamppost to lamppost. Aid station to aid station. We made deals with each other.. just get to the next bin, the next tree, the next shouty marshal. We powered on. Gruelling. Horrific. Awful. All come to mind. “Remember your why,” people say. 

I had no idea what my why was at that point. But I kept moving. Then finally… we reached the end. My friends were waiting. I rang the bell. I heard the words. “You are an Ironman.” 

A spray of champagne. A massive hug from my amazing boyfriend and besties. My legs gave out. 

But it was over. Would I do another? Honestly? Not soon. But I’m proud. I did it. And no one can take that away from me.

Ironman Leeds: what you need to know

Where to stay

Leeds city centre is a great base — close to registration, the finish line, and transport links. 

Book early

Accommodation fills up fast on Ironman weekend. Hyde Park and Headingley are good nearby options too. 

Race tips

Recce the course if possible. The bike course is savage but manageable if you know what’s coming. Electronic gearing is a worthwhile investment, especially with the constant climbs. 

Fuel early and often. Start in T1 and stick to a plan that works for you. 

Bright kit helps. Not just for safety, but for your support crew to spot you. 

Entry and info

Entry opens via the Ironman website shortly after each year’s race. Don’t hang about – it’s a popular event. 

Crowd Highlights

1. Black Hill Road: pure Tour de France vibes

2. Sheephouse lane wrestlers: you’ll see them!

3. Red carpet finish: nothing like it