Sunday 27th July, Outlaw, iron distance triathlon day dawned. It didn’t dawn as such, because at 2.30am when your alarm on your phone goes off, it’s pitch dark! Family Mangelshot woke, day 3 in our log cabin at the fab Teversal Camp site which is run by good family friends of ours, and fellow Outlaw (his second) Chris and wife Jayne. Jayne, and Sam, their 16 year old son were team Woods, Larry and Paige made team Mangelshot (along with anticipated arrivals from a cohort of team HURTS supporters, and a number of other fab chums!); support on the course wasn’t going to be in short supply. With the prospect of a 2.4 mile swim at 6am, straight out of that and onto a 112 mile road cycle and topped off with a 26.2 mile full marathon, knowing that some familiar faces were going to be on the course at different points just made me smile all the more. I also knew that I had an army of friends in different locations who would be tracking me on the live feed, messaging Larry for updates and generally sending me positive vibes for a successful day.
I wasn’t nervous. I hadn’t been nervous at all. The week running up to the Outlaw I smiled. Every time I thought or talked about the event I smiled. I planned my transition bags, I smiled. I went to have my toes painted, I smiled. I got all my race nutrition ready, I smiled. I went to bed progressively earlier each night, I smiled. When I look back I hadn’t been nervous for a good number of weeks. In fact the last time I remembered thinking ‘how am I going to achieve completing an iron distance triathlon’ was the day after I came home from hospital in November 2013 having had my gall bladder removed a week earlier and finding that a 5minute walk took me 40mins. I healed. I smiled. I trained. I trained a lot. I had fun. I loved every single session. In 25 weeks focussed training, I swam 91,000metres, cycled 2500 miles, ran 650 miles, did over 50 strength sessions and I did pretty much the same in 2013 before the gall bladder issues and subsequent hospitalisation and surgeries. I was physically ready and emotionally on a high. My goal was to get to the start line – yep, the day was here, big tick. Goal two: to finish in daylight – still that to prove and my third goal, to enjoy every stroke, pedal, and step of it and smile as much as possible.
I’ve written much about the ‘WHY’ I am attempting to complete an iron distance triathlon before today and my pre-story has been captured in an ebook that I am proud to be part of. My story and that of around 30 others are now recorded forever in ‘Triathlon: it HURTS’ (a darn good inspiring read if I say so myself and available as a download here : http://preview.tinyurl.com/kqkdghq [Open in new window] and well worth the £4.91 as all profits go to Harrisons Fund).
So here we are 245am, Sunday, porridge made with peanut butter stirred in, and a cup of tea. This and a piece of malt loaf and squidgy banana (seemingly my first of many!) were consumed. Teeth were cleaned. 12 year old got up! Larry covered me in all day sunscreen. I applied my race tattoos. Number 151, which has its own funny story attached to it – former race winner and course record holder Joel Jameson wore 151, and last years female 40-44 age group winner wore it too. No pressure there then. Into the car, 50mins later at Holme Pierre Point, the national water sports centre in Nottingham, and time to think about checking my bike.
My transition bags had gone into the tent the day before although we were allowed access to them on Sunday morning. On Saturday I had also been interviewed by a channel 4 production team about my journey to Outlaw. Apparently they would find me on Sunday. I hoped it wouldn’t be at 5am! It wasn’t! I went to where I’d racked my bike on Saturday, alone, as the transition area had become sterile and was competitors only. My two nagging thoughts that tried to suppress my smiles were both bike related. Would I pump up the tyres ok on Sunday morning, having deflated them a little to prevent popping on Saturday and would I be able to cope with a puncture on the route. Re-inflating with my track pump went fine, once I’d secured the pump to the valve ok which did take a couple of attempts. It was still dark and the floodlights were good, but the head torch I’d packed for the campsite would have been handy. Note to self (and other triatheletes – add head torch to racking kit).
Someone (wise) had told me to do my tyres, put my water bottles, nutrition and bike bits on my bike and then walk away and leave it. As I turned to walk away, I smiled and sauntered back to Larry. Cuppa tea time? Yep. Quick cuppa, photos, smiles and jokes, and a tired 12 year old lounging across a table made the spare 15 minutes fly by and before I knew it I was back with them having wriggled into my wetsuit and applied oodles of my barrier lube to prevent friction. It was time to head waterside and as we left the building the day was turning into a glorious clear start. The sun was low and peeping behind the final clouds which lurked from the welcome storms that had cleared the air at around 1am. I was thankful that I had got a pair of mirrored goggles and practised in them as the sun would be hitting the lake and our eyes. Hugs and kisses from Larry and Paige and that was it. I was off to challenge myself. 2.4m swim. 112mile cycle. 26.2 mile marathon. Whatever I had in me had to be used today.
Being a slow swimmer I heeded the advice of the Outlaw team at the race briefing and entered the water in bay 3 which did mean up to 100metres of extra swimming. It also meant for a safer swim for me avoiding some of the washing machine effect of 1000 plus pairs of arms and legs all vying for space. I wasn’t known for swimming in a straight line in a lake either: I mean where’s the black line when you need it, right? So I knew that I would be swimming longer than the predicted 2.4miles (3.8km!) so a 100m more wouldn’t make that much difference to me. I also had decided not to wear my favourite bit of kit ever, the 910 garmin that I had used to help me measure laps and distance in every swim up til then. At the end of the day the timing chip around my ankle would give me the time and irrespective of what my device said (i.e. that I had swum longer than the advertised distance) that would be that.
Countdown to the swim start began. ‘5 minutes’, I heard an official shout out. Rightio, time for me to get into the water: the water was warm, like a bath. Floating in it, allowing a little into my wetsuit, trying to do a little shoulder mobility in the water, I was ready. Next thing it was a 2 minute warning and we doggie paddled to the row of canoes that represented the start line. I had been assured they would move to allow us to move forward and would form a guide line to follow to get to the main up route. A couple of competitor group shouts in response to ‘Are you ready’ – ‘Yes’ the collective reply. A horn sounded. I was off. So were the other 1000 plus pairs of arms and legs all clad in black neoprene and in reality the only way to differentiate between us was the colour of our swim hats. Silver for women, white for men and orange for relay teams, but I am sure that we all looked the same to the sea of spectators that I had watched growing larger bankside before the start.
The swim was glorious. Within about 10 minutes, having heeded advice to stay out of the way of the fisticuffs, I was swimming in clear, warm, weed free water and heading into the sunshine. Sighting every 3rd breath or so, I seemed to be looking on alternate sides which was great as I was staying in a relatively straight line. The time went so quickly, I went past people; I deviated to avoid feet or arms. A couple of times I clashed with someone, or did they clash with me?! Before I knew it, we were half way, at 1850metres and the ‘turnaround’ point of the race to head back. I was very aware that suddenly everyone was trying to turn right around a big red bouy and I decided to push on, get past it and swim a little wider to create more space on the 50 metre turn before turning right again to head back to the swim exit. At one point I did get an elbow in my right eye, which if I am honest threw me for a couple of seconds, and I stopped to tread water to check my goggles were still in place, which they were. Onwards to the finish, come on, race face on. Funny it felt like a smile. As I got nearer to the grandstand area and about 400metres from the swim exit I could hear noise and music each time I turned to breathe. I hit a small area of weeds about 200metres from the end, but I wasn’t fazed and I could see the exit so I threw it off and kicked on. I could not believe how quickly it had felt like the swim had gone. As I approached the swim exit ramp a rather handsome RAF volunteer with firm biceps stuck out a hand for me to grab to be pulled up the ramp onto my feet and another pair of lady RAF hands undid my wetsuit for me. I smiled and ‘wooped ‘(the first of several Sunday!) and ripped off my hat and goggles, releasing my mop of bleached blonde hair to the world. I ‘wooped’ and shouted – and I think I might have sworn in a happy way as I left the exit area, arms waving above my head, smiling and shouting, I did it, I did it. Almost as if that was the end of my race, not simply the end of the first phase. A girl that 18 months earlier was petrified of open water – you mean you can’t touch the bottom –hell – had conquered all her demons and done the distance in a race. Later that night Paige told me that she, Jayne and Larry had been chatting saying it would be hard to spot me, until they could see my hair, but they all agreed I made by far one of the noisiest exits and it was in 1 hour and 32 minutes. 30 minutes under the swim cut off time.
Bike face on: well bike gear on. I ran with bare feet to the transition tent which was situated around 100metres from swim exit. There was another warm sight for sore eyes. Strippers! Now now! Strippers, people to remove your wetsuit. I’d pulled mine down to waist level and heard ‘sit on the ground if you want us to remove your wetsuit’, erm yes please, I’ll save all my energy for the 112 mile cycle. Another cheery hand was thrust towards to help me up and I was into the tent, swim over and wetsuit in hand. Deep breath! Pause. Grab transition bag and head to wooden bench that suddenly reminds me of a school hall bench. Grabbing the bottle of water I had left in this bag I sipped at it while I took my helmet, socks, bike shoes, cycle top and timing gadget out of the bag. I’d already popped into the tent pre start and applied oodles of ‘chamois cream’ to my hidden soft bits and hoped that this would be enough to keep me comfy on the bike seat and that it had not washed off in the swim. I had the foresight to pop a small handtowel into the bag too and was able to wipe my face and feet which I did and promptly and then calmly put on my equipment, remembering to secure my crash helmet. Before I left the change tent I had to put my wetsuit and swim bits in the bag and ‘waddle run’ in my bike shoes to the exit end, depositing my bag at this point.
Outside I looked up to the boat shed and straight away saw Larry and Paige. I squealed at them and waved my arms, all the while I was waddle running to my bike position near the exit area of the bikes. The position meant it was a little longer to run than others but far shorter distance to push my bike whilst trying to go as fast as possible to get to the mount line.
Our ride started with a circuit of the lake which was set to become a familiar sight during the day as I would later return to run 4 laps of it as part of the marathon. Families were all over the grass banks cheering anyone who came past, including me, so I had my smile face on and gave a series of thumbs up in thanks. I managed to munch my way through a piece of malt loaf with peanut butter in this first lap too as I did actually feel a little hungry – a 245am brekki is quite an early start! The lap is a ‘mere’ 5k and on a sharp corner before the exit to the main road I was delighted to spot and hear my team Hurts chums, Perry, Justin, Eva, Chris, Jason. They whooped and hollered at me as I left for another 109 of 112 miles in the saddle. It was already starting to warm up and it was only 745am.
I’d ridden both laps of the bike course once before on a Saturday morning. That day there was traffic flying past us on the main A road as we left the water sports centre and obviously not a marshall or directional arrow in sight. Today was different. The horrendously fast ‘A’ road had a whole lane coned off for us triathletes enabling us to wiz left at the red light and settle into our pedal rhythm.
‘Duf duf duf’, I heard a noise- it was coming from my bike. For a moment my smile disappeared and my ‘puncture face’ hit me; sheer panic – no please. I stopped near the kerb and looked at the front wheel and grabbed the tyre. It was fine. I looked behind me at the rear wheel and grabbed the tyre and it was also perfectly fine. What was making the noise? Was it the sticker that identified my bike catching spokes as I pedalled, if so, that was coming right off! No, it was a schoolgirl error. I had not clicked my little under seat bag back into place properly and while it had a neck Velcro tie to hold it to the stem the clip in bit had fallen off. I am so relieved it happened in the first 10 minutes, had I lost the bag completely I would have been in serious difficulty later should I have a puncture. You see inside it was two spare inner tubes, a bike multi tool, a CO2 canister and key, bike levers and a pair of latex gloves. I reached behind and clipped it on and then rode on. I lost a minute maybe two there and my smile returned.
I thought that the first place I might see familiar faces was at around 37miles on the course at Aslockton which is where Larry, Paige, Jayne and Sam, as well as Jo and Nigel planned to be. I pushed on, settling into my rhythm of around 17mph average. The first part of the route, around 11miles was a little uphill, not a hill, just a drag and then I was onto the first lower loop that I would return to later that day. There was a headwind on the loop already which meant I had to work a little harder to keep my pace on, so I dropped a gear to maintain easy legs so as not to sap energy.
There’s a village called Car Colston on the southern loop and apparently it has a huge cricket pitch and village feel to it. This is where a lot of spectators head as you get to see riders 4 times with the way the route is set up. I didn’t expect to see familiar faces there but knew that as I entered the village that the sea of watchers would make me feel like I belonged to them. The noise along with banner waving and horn blowing was amazing. I smiled all the more and gave a few nods and as I went round a bend there was the crowd from team HURTS. Hollering at me! It gave me a real boost and I pedalled on. A few miles on and before I knew it there were two cars following me, heck almost at my side, and then the tooting started and my already wide smile became wider. They had decided to stalk me on the bike and cheer me on. Phenomenal! I am not sure where they turned back to the northern loop as I lost them after a while and kept pushing on. I reached Aslockton to a very welcome clap and cheer and more smiles from Jo and Nigel. I did wonder at that point where Larry and the others were and about 4 miles further on they were standing on a turn point waving a banner that said ‘go go mummy’ and another that read ‘go team hurts’. More smiles and waves and I pushed on back towards Car Colston, to see team Hurts at the beginning of the village and slightly further along another uni friend, Dean. I was delighted. If I didn’t see anyone else that day I had now had the boost from my onsite supporters that I needed. As I tore through the village I spotted Charlie Webster from the channel 4 team who had interviewed me on Saturday. I called out to her ‘hi Charlie’ as I went past and I didn’t think she had heard me.
As I rode the connecting 7 mile long road – OMG what a long, busy and dull road, with a never ending climb and a head wind – I became aware of a motorcycle beside me. I turned to see a cameraman riding along next to me on a powered motorcycle. We chatted and he said they had been looking for me at Car Colston. He encouraged me to carry on and ignore them and for what seemed like the next forever (at least 10 minutes) he filmed me cycling, looking over my shoulder, pulling out to overtake other cyclists in the 30second window. Did I hold my tummy in enough! Ha ah well, it’ll be what it’ll be! Then he was gone and I pushed on some more.
As I approached loop two a familiar sound hit my ears, the team HURTS cars. Stalking me again; smiles and shouts of encouragement as I hit the bottom of the biggest climb on the course, dropping gears into my ‘granny ring’ and then before I knew it, it was done. The guys appeared not long after and at about 3 other points to around the 80 mile marker. The headwind and sun was ferocious and this loop was pretty darn undulating, so I simply dug in. Remembering all the way around to take on an energy gel once an hour, a salt tablet every 20miles and drinking at will when I needed the energy drink and water. Going past feed stations and confidently throwing used bottles to the dump zone and slowing down sufficiently to collect replacement items was a knack that I tried to perfect quickly so as not waste anything, or have an enforced stop. I didn’t intend to stop at all unless I had a mechanical issue. Onwards, everything was feeling good.
Around 90 miles and back on the lower loop again, the second time with the undulation (I hadn’t noticed the gentle regular undulations on the first loop but they were there, not massive, but there), the second time with the same headwinds, although they weren’t the same as they were stronger and the air temperature was higher – around 85 degrees by now. Sun and wind together with repeated loops are energy sapping. At this time my smile slipped just slightly as I had to give myself a proper talking too. My quads were screaming at me (shut up legs!) and I knew that I would finish, but I had suddenly become desperate for a pee. Race rules stated no peeing at the kerbside. So my only option was to try to relieve myself on the bike…. Oh well, when in Rome and all that! I looked behind me to make sure that no-one was in my area and sensibly removed my drinks bottle (which was water!). Hallelujah, I felt human again and used the water bottle appropriately to freshen myself. I am proud to say I managed to do this a couple more times and felt more human each time! My shoes however may not be so happy!
At this dark time I remembered my own mantra: ‘I know I can, I’m sure I can, because I am’ and repeated that in my head at the pace of my legs turning the pedals. I also remembered some of the words from the good luck cards and messages that I had received. Half of doing it, is believing that you can. The pain is temporary, the pride is forever. You’re braver than you believe and stronger than you see, and smarter than you think.
Right, back on it, come on Mrs M, slowed to ride through the last feed station and just over 12 miles to go. I had done the mileage in training. I’d covered over 2500 miles in 24 weeks and had 112m rides before, but the key difference was that I would have a couple of ten minute breaks for a drink or loo stop, but today was about staying moving the whole time, so it felt different again. We had been made aware that the last couple of miles the road surface changed quite dramatically and there were wooden ramps covering speed humps, but that it would all be worth it as we were within a couple of miles. It was a really pretty last couple of miles too; heading through a private estate with a beautiful house which would make a great photo position!
Larry. My Mangel, my supportive, loving husband (who had had more anxiety about the event than I, was there, shouting at me, ‘go Sos’ (my nickname). I was almost back and felt a little disoriented as I couldn’t work out where he was at first and then the penny dropped I was within half a mile of the dismount line. He ran along the path egging me on, smiling and telling me how fantastic I was doing. I smiled. I air punched. I pushed my legs harder again. He shouted to take my time in transition and to prepare for the marathon. Marathon, what the… 80 odd degrees heat. ‘Well I will think about that in a few mins’, I thought to myself, lets’ get back without any last minute disasters.
Along with a sea of very noisy raucous supporters cheering as I entered the venue, a wonderful volunteer was positioned at a crucial entry point to the venue and advised us to slow right down, and be aware of the right hand turn and speed humps. Dismount line was in sight by now and I made sure my front tyre touched it and leapt off my bike. (Well leapt might be a wee exaggeration as I kicked my leg over my cross bar doesn’t sound quite as romantic). Just over 7 hours cycling constantly. Delighted! Although I believe had the head wind been kinder I think I would have hit 645, but hey! Smiles – yet more smiles and another gorgeous volunteer hugged me deeply as another took my bike back to racking. Larry laughingly shouted over the top of the boat shed –‘put her down she’s got a marathon to run’. I waved up towards him and then waddled in my shoes – actually no, I walked, as my legs felt fine, back to transition. I heeded Larry’s advice and took my kit bag to the female change area.
Another wise person had told me to put water in my transition bags and I was grateful of the 500ml bottle that was waiting for me and it was still relatively cool. A quick tot up in my head as I changed and I worked out that I had consumed about 9 litres on the bike, but I felt a bit thirsty. A full kit change, except sports bra, followed. I also managed some conversation with other ladies who had arrived back at a similar time, all ecstatic. Lashings of Vaseline around my toes before putting on my socks and trainers, followed by a quick loo stop and I was ready to start. Just after 3pm. 9 hours of activity so far and I felt amazing. I walked from the tent to the marathon start line aiming to ease my legs out more and then, I was off. 26.2miles stood between me becoming an iron distance triathlete. An Outlaw as we would be known up here!
More fabulous familiar faces and a new addition, Rich, once again as I started the first loop of the lake (only 3.75 of them to go and two ‘dog leg’ 7 mile loops). The TV crew spotted me and Charlie jogged alongside asking questions. I smiled and answered, hopefully managing to get out some pearls of wisdom. I am sure that I will look rather pink on the TV, but hell, I decided to embrace it all. As they were interviewing me our friend Chris came past me, he was on his second loop and looked a bit tired. He was struggling as he had got a personal best in both the swim and cycle and they had a bit of a chat with him. They left, and Chris and I tootled along a bit together encouraging each other. As I left the lake arena where a lot of spectators were situated to head out to Notts Forest footy ground I was grateful of my baseball cap as the sun beat down relentlessly. I’d practised running off a bike, but most days it hadn’t been 70-80 degrees. I also became aware that my Achilles and calf muscles were exceptionally tight from the cycle, so I had no option but to run slowly. Hey by this time I had decided that a decent marathon wasn’t worth the future pain, today was about participating and completing, and smiling every step. Time wasn’t relevant, but I did not want to walk the marathon, so I adopted a rather comfortable 11.45 min mile pace and marched at water stations to take on drinks and gels.
Marshalls would ask the question ‘high 5’, and I replied ‘if you insist’ and exchanged palm slaps to much hilarity for kids on the water stops. Hydration, salt and nutrition would be key to keeping me going. I’d done the bike on gels, salt sticks, squidgy bananas and energy drink (note I do not want to see a gel or banana in awhile!). At each opportunity I slung a beaker of water over my head, and shivered with delight as it cooled me down, causing the marshalls to laugh as I made a peculiar noise of gratitude! The ‘dog leg’ of the loop wasn’t as well supported spectator wise and having to run around two cones at about 1mile apart to make sure we covered the full distance was a little mind numbing, and we had to do that twice! But hey, I’ve done marathons before. What really surprised me was the number of very lean, athletic looking men walking so much of the marathon course. It was almost as if they overcooked the swim and bike and didn’t have the will to run. Back to the lake for lap two and more familiar faces. Larry ran along the spectator line encouraging me for a bit of the time – but I insisted he wasn’t next to me; another rule, no pacing. Time for another quick interview at half way which meant I was on track for just over 5hours of running. Out on the dog leg again, really? Ok, it felt harder second time, but a little shade was offered for about 3miles so that made it worth the while. It was flat with the exception of running over a rickety suspension bridge. A lovely chap in a yellow vest, Warrington tri club I think, sat in next to me as he wanted a bit of company and we continued back towards the lake together for a couple of miles. As we got nearer to the lake Larry would appear periodically, and I saw Paige on the banks. They cheered and before I knew it I had 1.75 (almost two) laps of the lake to complete my iron distance triathlon and become an Outlaw.
Running loops is ludicrously difficult. Your mind starts to play tricks with you. Historically I have shied away from any running event that involves loops of a circuit and yet here I was doing my last couple of loops. Larry and the others popped up at different points. The crowd on the grandstand at the finish area were incredibly noisy and you could hear them each time you approached. I now had 3 bands on my wrist which meant that next time past the finish area I could go down the red carpet.
The red carpet: noisy, really happy loud shouting. High fives to my loved ones and the biggest smile of the day as I came to the finish tape and pushed through it. 14 hours 31 minutes and 52 seconds. I had done it. I was an Outlaw!
A hug from a volunteer and the TV crew interviewed me ‘post race’ – I really can’t remember what I said at any of the on the go interviews, but I think I dedicated the race to my brother. I remember asking if I could go get my medal with a big cheeky grin.
I had my medal put over my head, I was ushered get my finishers t-shirt and then on to the medical tent. I didn’t need medical, I was too happy, and I boogied down to the tent and they laughed with me, releasing me to the repatriation area. Oh hello, their last joke – up a set of stairs! I danced from side to side up them as I could not face walking in a straight line.
The best hug ever. From Larry. Then Paige. Followed by team Hurts.
Done! Achieved! Still smiling! Feet fine! No punctures! Body intact! No dramas! It was the most physically challenging, but quite simply the best day of my life.
What did I learn?
I suppose I should write really deeply, and philosophically here, but these are my key points:
1. Training – don’t attempt to do anything without adequate training
2. Preparation is key – think through every scenario and try to have a plan to cope with them
3. Support – embrace your support network; ask for it where you need it; say thank you when you get it
4. Smile – if you aren’t enjoying it, the training, the preparation, the event, then don’t bother
5. Celebrate – heck why not!
Once we returned home I sat down to fully engage with all the messages of support and congratulations that my friends had posted on facebook , emails, texts. I was and still am, humbled and overwhelmed. I can’t get over how much support and love there is out there and I thank everyone from the bottom of my heart.
My legs ached, just a bit, by Tuesday morning, so on went the compression leggings for a full 24 hours and following this, some sleep, good food, plenty of water (and salts) I feel amazing. No aches. Annette my aromatherapy massage friend gave me the most amazing massage to relax me and next week I have a fab sports massage arranged with Hazel who has kept me on track injury free both this and last year. I can’t quite believe how great I feel physically. I expected to feel on a high, completely elated, but I also expected to walk like a 90 year old for a week after. But I must have done it right?! Or could I have tried harder?! No, I am delighted with my participation and achievement and the fact that I remember pretty much every stroke, pedal and step of the way.
I modestly sent a press release to our local paper and they have run with my story of the weekend. In the sports section! Another Mangelshot is in the sports section of a paper! Natasha, one of my tri club friends, at Hoddesdon Tri Club, spotted a feature online on the Triathlete Europe page identifying the 10 best bikes in racking at Outlaw, 12 hours before the event. Madly, utterly bonkers, they had identified my beautiful pink, ‘She’, as one of them. She was the only one that looked like a road bike, no aero bars! Looking back at the month leading up to the event, I had also been invited on to BBC Radio 4 Woman’s Hour and had been interviewed alongside Lucy Gossage, the professional iron distance triathlete to dispel the myth that triathlon is only for elites, or men having a mid life crisis. I am a 43 year old woman who is certainly not having a mid life crisis. Yes, I have devoted a huge amount of time to this project. But if you want to do something then it is worth doing properly. I wasn’t going to let the removal of my gall bladder stop me achieving as my friends in Barcelona inspired me to dig deep the day I handed over their finishers medals. My turn has been and gone. The TV presenter at the finish asked me the big question ‘ would I do it again’, my reply ‘never say never’.
Anything is possible. If you want it enough. Believe in yourself and make it happen.
The show on TV will be on Channel 4 7am on Saturday 23rd August.
"They helped me set realistic goals, with challenging yet achievable milestones"