“I’m doing the Restless Tri”, my friend said.

“I don’t have a gravel bike”, I say.

“You know they accept MTB entries?”, my friend said.

“Do they?”, I say…

So there I was in Lochgoilhead, Scotland, feeling a little out of my depth on a beautiful Friday night.

I dug my toes in at camping. It’s Scotland, it’s summer and midges are not my friends. We retreated to a hotel.

4am on Saturday morning, the alarm goes off and a tin of rice pudding goes into me.

Here we go. I’m right proper nervous for this one.

As a woman in my 60s, the chances of me making the cut off and being allowed to go up Ben Donich mountain were slim.

Say what you want – but being one of only 9 women on the start line, and one of few older people, often feels quite daunting. This wasn’t helped by good representation from abroad from people who had clearly done this type of thing before.

We took the bus to the swim start by Carrick Castle at dawn. Thankfully, the coffee shop had opened especially as we nervously waited the hour to the off.

Loch Goil is a sea loch with both seaweed and salt water, neither of which bother me. It’s colder than inland waters, but not bad at 13 degrees.

The last time I raced was in Spain and the water was 29.6 degrees, so this was a bit of a shock. I wore my surf wetsuit as I’m a wimp in cold water… The slight increase in swim time for the 1.8km was well worth the comfort and efficiency afforded by being warmer than freezing.

It’s a privilege to be able to swim in such a beautiful place. I often think that as I do what I do – I’m so lucky.

We came into T2 together and swapped our gear to backpacks with full emergency mountain kit – OMM-branded of course – before setting off on the trail run section. We had two hours before cut-off time for the mountain, and only 6 miles to do, so we’d both heaved a sigh of relief and relaxed a bit – we were going to make it!

Or were we?

After the first mile of steep up-hill I looked at my watch and realised if we continued like this, we were in trouble. There then followed a very intense hour of counting down the miles, reading our moving pace, working out what was left to do and fuelling.

Can we run here?

Yes/No.

We have to walk… can we run yet? Etc.

Phew – we made the feed station and cut off point with 25 minutes to spare.

We made the marshals laugh as we were so ecstatic about having the opportunity to go up Ben Donich. All 825m of it. Clearly caffeine is great stuff. Up, up and up with phenomenal views, and a tiny bit of a scramble to liven things up.

The Mountain Rescue guys came over to make sure we were happy on that, which we were, both having done some climbing and mountaineering. We were also both wearing OMM shoes which stuck like glue to everything. We laughed as we noticed the men didn’t get the same treatment.

Then down, down, down. I was moving better, so secure in the OMM Fell shoe. I felt so good I went ahead to fill up my bladder at the station which meant we could spend less time there.

All we had to do now was the last 6 downhill miles. As usual, these descriptions are not always super accurate. It was 7 miles and there was one more significant climb.

Now it was my turn to be tired, and we took our eyes off the necessity to eat continuously. This is so easy to do when tired and I paid for it. We agreed we would walk the ‘hills’ and what constituted uphill rapidly became anything which wasn’t pan flat!

Then to Aviemore for the British Championships.

Aviemore drew me as the course has a reputation for being technically hard and I wanted to see what that meant. Be careful what you wish for some would say!

Bizarrely for Scotland, we had a beautiful day with fantastic views. The swim was cold, but one kilometre is quite short, so survivable. Off with the wetsuit, on with the OMM shoes which managed to stick to the mountain bike pedals despite me not being able to feel my feet. Off I went, getting a gel into me as soon as I could on a rare flat bit of the course.

Then quickly off the bike again as the hill was far too steep for 95% of us to ride up – lots of pushing and grunting.

On again, off again for the big ditch, and then flying down a forest track until we got to the sharp right onto twisting single track. There was another lap of that before life got technical with sustained sections of red grade trails which would have been easier if my hands had been warm enough to get my dropper post working and my seat down.

Bump, bump, bump, well done bike, sliding off roots and avoiding trees.

Once upon a time I had a rush of blood to the head, drove the length of the country to race a very tame cross triathlon on tank tracks down south.

Cross in triathlon terms means using a mountain bike.

I discovered I kind of liked it. I think I like the fact it’s very unpredictable. And learning something new, starting in your late 50s, is kind of fun.

What makes a Cross Triathlon?

If you turn up to do a standard triathlon you know there will be a 1.5km open water swim, a 40km bike ride on tarmac and a 10km road run which is probably almost flat.

Turn up to a cross triathlon, there is a 1km swim, a Mountain bike route, which could be almost anything, and a run varying from flat hard-packed track to proper mountain running. It’s much more interesting.

It’s also kind of niche – any real mountain biker wouldn’t be seen dead doing triathlon and many triathletes would probably be dead if they went mountain biking!

We don’t have the best reputation for bike handling skills, and I know a number of triathletes who only train on indoor machines, refusing to ride on the road except in races. They miss the pure joy of being on a bike as far as I can see.

The following years have led to me having a few adventures in the mountain biking arena including Strathpuffer, a 24hr MTB race taking place in January in Northern Scotland, and racing for the GB age group multi-sports team in Spain, Ibiza and Italy.

This year has been no exception. More adventures.

It started with a race at Weston Park, Wolverhampton, in beautiful bluebells. I was second in the English Champs, beaten by a minute and 15 secs.

Then to Banyoles in Spain, where I was third in the European Championships, beaten by 59 seconds by the same person! We had a great race but even the OMM Fell shoes couldn’t get me the additional seconds I needed.

Here are a handful of those adventures…

“I’m doing the Restless Tri”, my friend said.

“I don’t have a gravel bike”, I say.

“You know they accept MTB entries?”, my friend said.

“Do they?”, I say…

So there I was in Lochgoilhead, Scotland, feeling a little out of my depth on a beautiful Friday night.

I dug my toes in at camping. It’s Scotland, it’s summer and midges are not my friends. We retreated to a hotel.

4am on Saturday morning, the alarm goes off and a tin of rice pudding goes into me.

Here we go. I’m right proper nervous for this one.

As a woman in my 60s, the chances of me making the cut off and being allowed to go up Ben Donich mountain were slim.

Say what you want – but being one of only 9 women on the start line, and one of few older people, often feels quite daunting. This wasn’t helped by good representation from abroad from people who had clearly done this type of thing before.

We took the bus to the swim start by Carrick Castle at dawn. Thankfully, the coffee shop had opened especially as we nervously waited the hour to the off.

Loch Goil is a sea loch with both seaweed and salt water, neither of which bother me. It’s colder than inland waters, but not bad at 13 degrees.

The last time I raced was in Spain and the water was 29.6 degrees, so this was a bit of a shock. I wore my surf wetsuit as I’m a wimp in cold water… The slight increase in swim time for the 1.8km was well worth the comfort and efficiency afforded by being warmer than freezing.

It’s a privilege to be able to swim in such a beautiful place. I often think that as I do what I do – I’m so lucky.

Out of the swim, I hopped on my mountain bike (MTB). Then, promptly got off it again as we hit the first of the hills. It was pedal-able but, knowing it was a long day, I thought I’d save my energy for the other 1,900m of climbing tucked into the 30-mile course. What a course.

Having got over the first little hump, the gravel tracks rode well with gradual long ascents and great views. About a third of the way in my friend, Sarah, caught me up and we continued together. I quickly realised she’d caught me with her kamikaze descending so had to buck up my ideas to keep up with her.

We loved it – mostly good track with the odd bit of single track thrown in, and the occasional fallen tree. That was honestly the kindest 2000m of ascent I’ve ever ridden on an MTB.

There was a sting in the tail with the 5km Glen Gruel single track section. I’d taken a caffeine gel about an hour before in the hope that it would help me focus. In fact, what happened was I got very jittery, having not had any caffeine for several years now, and promptly fell off my bike trying to get on it! For goodness’s sake.

I had some pepperoni to soak up some of the sugar and got my head in gear. Glen Gruel turned out not to be ‘5km of pure hell’, as described on the race website, but 5km of very good, fun technical mountain biking. There may have been the odd gravel rider who disputed that description as we bumped down.

I was pulling away from Sarah here, then heard a loud shriek followed by a howl of laughter as she landed in a pile of moss. I thought that leaving her potentially impaled on a tree wasn’t a good move, so we continued together, both of us braver with a rescue buddy.

We came into T2 together and swapped our gear to backpacks with full emergency mountain kit – OMM-branded of course – before setting off on the trail run section. We had two hours before cut-off time for the mountain, and only 6 miles to do, so we’d both heaved a sigh of relief and relaxed a bit – we were going to make it!

Or were we?

After the first mile of steep up-hill I looked at my watch and realised if we continued like this, we were in trouble. There then followed a very intense hour of counting down the miles, reading our moving pace, working out what was left to do and fuelling.

Can we run here?

Yes/No.

We have to walk… can we run yet? Etc.

Phew – we made the feed station and cut off point with 25 minutes to spare.

We made the marshals laugh as we were so ecstatic about having the opportunity to go up Ben Donich. All 825m of it. Clearly caffeine is great stuff. Up, up and up with phenomenal views, and a tiny bit of a scramble to liven things up.

The Mountain Rescue guys came over to make sure we were happy on that, which we were, both having done some climbing and mountaineering. We were also both wearing OMM shoes which stuck like glue to everything. We laughed as we noticed the men didn’t get the same treatment.

Sarah’s legs were tired so I was doing a great job on the ‘what can we do now to make things better?’

Here – have some caffeine and sugar.

Eat some more, nuts and raisins this time.

Twinges of cramp? Have a salt tablet, that might help.

Cold? Let’s put the jersey on behind some rocks, not in the teeth of the wind.

We were so relaxed, it was photo time at the top. What a day out – I was loving it.

Then down, down, down. I was moving better, so secure in the OMM Fell shoe. I felt so good I went ahead to fill up my bladder at the station which meant we could spend less time there.

All we had to do now was the last 6 downhill miles. As usual, these descriptions are not always super accurate. It was 7 miles and there was one more significant climb.

Now it was my turn to be tired, and we took our eyes off the necessity to eat continuously. This is so easy to do when tired and I paid for it. We agreed we would walk the ‘hills’ and what constituted uphill rapidly became anything which wasn’t pan flat!

Finally, finally, after almost, but not quite, ten hours, we crossed the line hand-in-hand with massive grins.

AS far as we were concerned, we had won by making the cut off. So, we were both surprised and honoured to be presented with bottles of bubbles for joint first in the inaugural female MTB class.

Sleep was elusive and caffeine was at play still… and a lack of specific training meant the DOMS for the next 48 hours were fierce.

Was it worth it?

Absolutely. A fantastic day out.

Then to Aviemore for the British Championships.

Aviemore drew me as the course has a reputation for being technically hard and I wanted to see what that meant. Be careful what you wish for some would say!

Bizarrely for Scotland, we had a beautiful day with fantastic views. The swim was cold, but one kilometre is quite short, so survivable. Off with the wetsuit, on with the OMM shoes which managed to stick to the mountain bike pedals despite me not being able to feel my feet. Off I went, getting a gel into me as soon as I could on a rare flat bit of the course.

Then quickly off the bike again as the hill was far too steep for 95% of us to ride up – lots of pushing and grunting.

On again, off again for the big ditch, and then flying down a forest track until we got to the sharp right onto twisting single track. There was another lap of that before life got technical with sustained sections of red grade trails which would have been easier if my hands had been warm enough to get my dropper post working and my seat down.

Bump, bump, bump, well done bike, sliding off roots and avoiding trees.

At one point I came nose to nose with a tree and stopped – look at where you want to go, you dope. Disaster averted – then another dismount for a scramble down the steep, long drop off. Twisting through the last section into the dismount area.

No need to change shoes.

Dump bike, pick up fuel and straight out onto the run. 9km of mainly forest track but with a section of short steep hill climb to the summit of Creag Ghreugaiche, giving about 700ft of climb.

The OMM Fell shoes came into their own as I pulled past someone, then managing several overtakes on the steep descent. ‘Just keep pushing’ was in my head. I thought there were two in front of me in my age group and you never know what might happen racing. I didn’t catch anyone who looked like me, so there you go.

I suspected I was third, and happy.

So, I was delighted to find I was first, and on the podium with two friends which is super nice. The bonus was being awarded British Champion in the F60-64 age category!