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Ironman Bolton: How I Went from Zero to Finish Line in 10 Months.

  • Writer: Emmelia Potts
    Emmelia Potts
  • Jul 7
  • 13 min read
Cyling iron man bolton
I never would have thought this particular moment possible when I started training.

From ultra-marathons to triathlon, this is my account of completing Ironman Bolton 2018 as a first-time triathlete. What went right, what nearly broke me, and how to survive your first Ironman.


So… I Signed Up for an Ironman whilst being useless on a bike and not a strong swimmer.

Every year I like to do something different to challenge myself. In 2017, it was running a marathon on the Great Wall of China. In 2018? I decided to participate in Ironman Bolton, a full-distance triathlon: 2.4-mile swim, 112-mile bike ride, and 26.2-mile run.


I couldn’t swim more than 50 metres without stopping, hadn’t ridden a bike in years, and my strong suit, running, got neglected during training as I panicked about the other two sports.

Perfectly logical, right? But that was the point. I wanted something completely new. Not just a bigger version of what I’d already done. And once the idea got into my head, it stuck. So I signed up.


Training: DIY, Haphazard, and Event-Heavy

I gave myself about 10 months to get ready. My “plan” wasn’t really a plan. It was more like organised chaos, consisting of tri-club swims, group cycles, random events, and me winging it based on how I felt, despite my trainer Paul Slythes well-coordinated regime.

The breakdown:

  • First 3 months: I dabbled with swimming and cycling. I tried to appear as if I knew what I was doing and continued going to the gym doing my usual routines.

  • Next 3 months: I joined tri and run clubs, learnt what “brick training” was, started open water swimming, and got serious about building endurance.

  • Last 4 months: I packed my weekends with big events, 5km swims, 100-mile rides, half Ironman races, and hoped it would all stick.

I neglected my running, because I was terrified of the bike and swimming, so those received all my attention. I didn't hire a triathlon coach. I didn’t use a set programme. I trained around events and went ot the gym, leaning into what I enjoyed most. I figured training should be fun and slightly flexible, given it was taking up so much of my time.


My Biggest Fears (And How They Played Out)
  • Drowning in the swim. I imagined getting trampled by other swimmers and never resurfacing. In reality, yes, there was splashing carnage at the start, but I found a rhythm and enjoyed it.

  • Cycling endurance and saddle pain. Spot on. My bottom hated me by the end of the ride, but I survived with no punctures fortunately! Nutella sandwiches very much got me through.


Gear & Nutrition: Simple But Effective
Kit breakdown:
  • Swim: Speedo wetsuit, basic goggles, done.

  • Cycle: Giant road bike second-hand from a friend, cheap but solid. Cleats (A MUST!), helmet, gloves, padded tri suit.

  • Run: Standard running gear, no headphones allowed. Just me and my thoughts.

Nutrition plan (aka: how not to hit the wall):
  • Eat and drink before I felt thirsty or hungry.

  • Alternate electrolytes with plain water.

  • I avoid gels (I find them disgusting); I relied on solid food at transitions and on the bike.

  • I accepted that sugar becomes a life force during the last few miles of the run.

 

The Swim: From Panic to Peace

The morning was calm, the kind of eerie calm that feels at odds with what’s about to come. It was early, the sun was not quite up in full force yet, and the air was thick with anticipation. Nervous athletes shuffled toward the water’s edge, wetsuits creaking, goggles getting last-minute spit-polished, and everyone pretending they weren’t absolutely bricking it. I was no exception.

The water was still, deceptively calm, like a trap about to be sprung.


The announcer gave the countdown to the start of the race, and suddenly, chaos. The flat water turned to whitewater as hundreds of swimmers thrashed in. Arms flew, feet kicked, and for a few terrifying seconds, it felt like everyone was swimming directly over me. I’d trained for this. I’d practiced open water with friends. But this? I felt like I was drowning in adrenaline and elbows.


Eventually, I found someone swimming roughly my pace and latched onto them, drafting behind as best I could. My brain stopped screaming, and I let muscle memory take over. I focused on the mechanics I had learnt in my swimming lessons, high elbows, smooth breathing, relaxed legs. This calmed me, giving me something to focus on and the first lap went by surprisingly quickly.

Leaving lap one of the iron man botlon swim
Lap one of the swim is complete

On the second lap the field was more spread out, and I no longer had a swimmer to follow. I had to sight my own buoys and course-correct. That’s when I made a mistake, I sighted the wrong buoy and veered off-course, ending up in the centre of the triangle I was meant to be swimming around. Cue internal meltdown and panic.


A few moments of frustration bubbled up. I’d trained so hard to even make it this far, and now I was mucking it up in open water. But I reeled myself in, adjusted my direction, and kept going. No panic, it was very early on in the day, after all. I corrected myself and carried on. How British.


The swim flew by and all my training with a dear friend, Ginny, had more than paid off. The 5km swim a few weeks before had made this 2 mile swim feel short, which was mentally excellent for the rest of the day. I exited the water to the sound of my mum cheering, and I nearly laughed out loud in disbelief as I checked my watch. I smashed the swim. The thing I’d feared most had gone better than I could have expected.


My legs wobbled as I ran towards the changing tent, buzzing with energy and sheer joy. In the tent, I sat down, took five minutes to breathe, shovelled some food into my face from my transition bag, and collected my thoughts.

"You're doing it, Emmelia," I thought. "You're doing it."

Then it was time to find my bike. The second thing I was dreading.

  

The Cycle: A Personal Breakthrough

I found my bike after hunting amongst the chaos.

“If I make it through this section, it’ll be a miracle,” I muttered under my breath, given I had fallen off on most of the rides I had partaken in during training.

I clipped in, waved to my mum, and set off, no hesitation. Fake it till you make it very much the idea here.


The start of the cycle course was deceptively calm and uneventful. Quiet roads on the outskirts of Bolton. Birds chirping. Rolling countryside. I found a rhythm quickly, humming to myself to stay relaxed, reminding myself to drink even if I wasn’t thirsty, it was already warm, and I knew hydration would be key. Top tip, attach your phone or Garmin to the handlebars of your bike so you can see a timer or alarm to drink and eat as a reminder.

Cyling on Bolton Iron man
Enjoying the Iron Man cycle

About 20 miles in, I hit the base of the legendary hill climb that the Bolton course offers, the one with the iconic Bolton Ironman wrestlers waiting at the top. Because why not?


I dropped gears and started grinding up the incline, determined not to stop. I had a rule: if I stopped here, I wouldn’t be able to get going again. So I didn’t stop. I just kept going and going until I thought my legs would fall out of my hip sockets. I did not want to be pushing a bike for miles up this hill.


Just as my legs started to cry out for me to stop, and my stubbornness began to wane, I could hear music! Then I saw costumes on the hillbrow. The wrestlers! I had made it! They were shouting words of encouragement, holding up signs, dancing, and generally were a welcome sight.



“See you in a couple of hours!” I thought. It was a two-lap course. I’d be back in a few hours.


What came next was a personal breakthrough. I flew down the other side of the hill. A few months ago, I was terrified of descending anything on a bike that was more than a car park ramp. I was that wobbly rider who braked every ten seconds and fell over at traffic lights. Now? I was hydrating one-handed, navigating corners, and even overtaking people downhill. I had officially become a Lycra-wearing, hated by all road users, cyclist.


The countryside lanes were quiet and lush, winding through rural scenery with only the sound of tyres and gears clicking. People overtook me, which initially made me feel sad, but then I thought perhaps they were not strong swimmers and they were strong cyclists. Triathlons have a great way of levelling the field.

Cycling on iron Man Bolton towards T2
Still enjoying the cycle towards the end

“Don’t compare,” I reminded myself. “Stay in your lane and just finish”


I felt strong. Food stops were well-organised with volunteers handing out bottles and snacks, which I grabbed without even stopping. Pro moves, and I was dead proud of myself.


Then came the best part, entering the Bolton suburbs. Streets were lined with people. It was like a neighbourhood festival, residents sitting on sofas dragged out to their gardens, BBQs sizzling, music blasting. Kids handing out water and shouting encouragement to the competitors. It felt like the entire town had shown up for us. It was honestly incredible.


Lap two? Much the same. Still strong. Still eating. My handlebar bag of Nutella sandwiches was proving genius. The same wrestlers were waiting on the second hill climb, although this time I nearly flipped the bike, doing a surprise wheelie from pulling too hard on the handlebars in an attempt to cycle tired legs up the monumental incline.


By the time I rolled back into T2, I was sore (my bum hated me), but I felt incredible. I knew I’d just nailed the hardest part of the day for myself (or so I thought).


Bike racked. Shoes off. Another sit-down and snack fest in the changing tent. Running shoes on. One final push.


"Now for the easy bit," I thought as I looked forward to the part I knew I could smash. The run.

 

The Run: The Unpredicted Dark Place

The run was five laps around Bolton and Bolton's parks, about five miles per loop, and after each lap, you collected a coloured wristband to prove you’d completed it. On collecting five bands, you could cross the finish line. Simple enough in theory. A mental rollercoaster in practice.

The first couple of laps went well.
The first couple of laps went well.

The first two laps? Lovely, despite very wobbly legs initially. I got into my usual run rhythm, eating small bites, sipping fluids, and chatting with fellow athletes. I waved to my mum, my auntie and my cousins who were cheering me on. The crowd was full of cheers, music, and general buzz.

I was flying.


Then came lap three.

The field had started to thin out as people finished and the novelty of the route wore off. Suddenly, the repetition, the same trees, the same benches, the same grim Portaloos,  became mentally draining. I’ve always loved trail running, where every step requires attention and terrain constantly changes. This? This was mental purgatory and the reason I had never signed up for a road race. Boredom was taking hold and my joints were unfamiliar with the hard ground underfoot.

I started walking. Just a little at first. Then more. I tried chatting to other walkers to keep my spirits up, but I forgot to eat as frequently. I was spiralling. My legs began to seize up. Getting back into a jog felt impossible. My mind threw me back to The Wall ultra marathon a couple of years ago and I reminded myself to just keep moving. No matter what, one foot in front of the other.


The mental wall had arrived, and it brought stomach cramps, loneliness, and one traumatic visit to a portaloo that I’m still trying to erase from my memory.

eating sweets on Iron Man run
Stuffing my face with snacks to keep going.

Lap four was even slower. The crowd had thinned. Many runners had finished. The streets were emptier. The Tanoy at the finish line kept calling out,

“You are an Ironman!” but it wasn’t for me. Not yet.


Still, I shuffled forward. I told myself, “You’ve come this far. You have to finish.”


I thought of everyone who had cheered me on. Everyone, I didn’t want to disappoint. Everyone else still grinding it out. I also contemplated the fact I did not have it in me to commit to another year of training for this event, it took too much time.


It was on lap four that I started talking to a man. A man who had made a bet with his friends 12 months ago that he could not finish an Iron Man in 12 months. He had learnt to ride a bike from scratch, lost 5 stone, got fit, trained and was now running the race, he was merrily walking around his second lap, confident he was going to finish. Talking to this inspirational human, I snapped out of my own mental cage. He was conquering this challenge, he was happy, why was I putting so much pressure on myself? Walking was fine.


Then… lap five.

The final band was snapped over my hand onto my wrist. A sudden spark. I downed some cola, shoved jelly sweets in my mouth, and ignored the pain. My legs moved, clunky but determined. The thought of seeing that finish line one last time powered me forward. Urging my feet on through the parks, willing my lead like legs on up the hills, hoping that my knees would just keep it together for another 4 miles.


I reached the cobbled streets again, and the roar of the crowd returned. People were cheering from the barriers. Music. Emotion. The finish arch came into view.

A marshal looked at my wristbands, nodded, and gestured to the red carpet.

I jogged, no, floated, down that carpet. The crowd clapped. I grinned like a maniac.

“Emmelia Ports, you are an Ironman!”

And just like that… it was over.

Iron man finish
"You are an Iron Man!"

If there’s one thing this event taught me, it’s this... You don’t have to be good at something to start, but you have to start to get good. When I signed up, I could barely swim 50 metres without stopping and hadn’t ridden a bike in years. I am not exagerating when I say I fell off my bike during 90% of my training rides, and they were usually spectacular ones. Ten months later, I swam 2.4 miles, cycled 112, and ran (well… sort of ran) a marathon. All in one day.


Training wasn’t perfect. My plan was mostly a patchwork of races, club sessions, gyming, and me just doing what I fancied on the day. I had no triathlon coach, no expensive kit, and no detailed spreadsheet of heart rate zones. What I did have was commitment, curiosity and willingness to learn.


I learned that:
  • Training needs to reflect your weaknesses. I was overconfident in my running, and it showed, because it was the run that broke me. I neglected my strongest discipline in favour of panic-swimming and saddle time, and it came back to bite me.

  • You need to enjoy training! You will be putting in hours of your life to get fit for a full Ironman. You have to enjoy the training to get these hours under your belt. I might not have been as structured as I could have been but I enjoyed the training and that is what kept me going to put the hours in. Don't sacrifice enjoyment and spontenaity at the expense of a rigid plan you feel forced into. If you feel like going for a long cycle on a day you had brick training, just do it and do the brick training another day.

  • Recovery isn’t optional. Weekly sports massages, mobility sessions, and designated rest days made a world of difference. Don’t wait for your body to scream, listen early.

  • Nutrition is everything. If you feel thirsty or hungry during an Ironman, you’re already too late. I learned to fuel before I needed it, alternating between water and electrolytes, and eating regularly throughout. You can’t go wrong with jelly sweets and Coke in those final miles, even if your gut disagrees later.

  • The crowd makes the race. From the wetsuit zip-ups at 6AM to locals dragging their sofas into the street for the cycling leg, Bolton brought a fantastic energy. The crowds support got me through the dark miles and really spurred me on.

  • You only fail if you quit. Whether it was wobbling out of the lake, nearly flipping my bike, or dragging myself around laps 3 and 4 of the marathon, I kept going. Slowly and awkwardly, I kept moving. That’s all that matters in the end.


Would I Do Another Ironman?

In short, no.

Not because I didn’t love it. I did, the event was incredible. But Ironman training takes over your life. It requires absolute commitment, and this is from someone who didn’t have a set in stone plan each day. I might not have had a set structure, but I put the miles and hours in to learn skills and get accustomed to the muscle memory and stamina required. This does not come from a few hours of training a week. It comes from a few hours a day and kissing goodbye to your weekends.


Ironman taught me what I was capable of, and that’s enough. I also have a plethora of other challenges I want to tick off before I hit the hay permanently!

 

What I Learned From Ironman Bolton
  • Your brain quits before your body does. Learn to argue with it. Learn to overcome it.

  • You can train your weaknesses into strengths. I went from a drowning risk to a solid swimmer.

  • People (strangers) will carry you emotionally just by showing up. The Bolton crowd was unreal.

  • Don’t neglect your strengths just because you’re scared of other things (hi, running).

  • Lapped events can be mentally brutal. If you struggle with repetition, plan for it.

  • Don’t underestimate the power of Nutella. Or talking to strangers on the run course. Anyway, you find something to lift you up, take it, likewise you might be able to motivate and encourage another person out on the course, be mindful of that.

  • Break it into thirds: swim > survive; bike > sustain; run > finish. Think of each leg of the race on its own rather than the entire race if you are likely to feel overwhelmed.

  • Take nothing new to race day, not shoes, not shorts, not breakfast.

  • Don’t skip mobility and recovery, your body will thank you post-race.

  • Brick training is a must.

  • Practice your transitions, especially if you are going for a PB or a specific time. Youll be amazed at the amount of time you can waste sat eating and watching the world go by!

 

Should You Do an Ironman?

Yes. But only if you’re ready to commit. It’s time-consuming and there’s no hiding once you start. You will end up sacrificing social events for early morning cycles and drinking for an evening swim lesson. If you don’t fully commit, you are not going to finish.

 

Ironman Bolton 2018 was brutal, beautiful, and totally transformative. It humbled me, pushed me, and gave me a memory I’ll never forget.

And even though I’ve now moved on to more chaos (hi, Mongol Derby and mountains), I’ll always have Bolton.

Because now, forever… I am an Ironman!


Iron Man medal and bands
After finishing, you get a pretty cool medal.

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