Hi guys,
I’ll be totally honest with you — this hasn’t been an easy newsletter for me to write.
On Wednesday the 29th of April, I experienced every triathlete’s nightmare. I hit a massive pothole whilst going downhill on a training ride in Wales, it resulted in me spending a week in the Trauma Unit at the Heath Hospital in Cardiff. My injuries were pretty extensive: a fractured skull, six broken ribs, a broken elbow, 25 stitches to my face, horrendous road rash all over my body, and concussion. Without question, the helmet shown below saved my life — a situation that could so easily have been so much worse. It’s the thing you never really imagine can happen to you.
Maybe part of me needs to write this to help with the recovery — because I think the mental recovery is probably going to take a lot longer than the physical one. A traumatic injury is a very difficult thing to process. Having never been in this situation before, I’m learning to deal with it day by day, and emotionally it has been an enormous rollercoaster. The physical scars are there and I’m very aware of them. But it’s the invisible ones that are harder to reckon with.
I had taken the week off to go home to Cardiff — a big week of training in preparation for Ironman Wales this year. The week had been going incredibly well. I just love getting up into the Welsh mountains on my bike, on the roads I know so well. I was close to finishing what I call the Ten Hills: ten of the hardest climbs I can find in South Wales. I’d just completed number nine and was heading home towards the final hill.
In one of those sliding doors moments, I decided to take a road I don’t normally take. A shortcut that probably saved me all of two minutes. I’d done that route so many times over the years going the other way — but I’d never come down this end, so I didn’t know what was waiting at the bottom. It’s probably something I’ll kick myself for for a very long time. You just can’t help that.
What was waiting at the bottom of that road — a pretty steep descent turning into a corner — was every cyclist’s worst nightmare. Roughly 50 metres of road absolutely riddled with potholes, ten to fifteen of them, right at the base of the hill. I didn’t see the one I hit until it was far too late. I remember seeing it. I remember knowing I couldn’t avoid it. My front wheel went down with a thud, I lost control, and then everything went blank.
I don’t remember much after that. I have a brief, fragmented memory of being in a car with a woman and arriving at hospital. I only truly understood what had happened nearly three weeks later, when I finally got the chance to speak to that woman. She filled in the gaps.
Although she hadn’t seen the crash herself, she was one of the people who found me in the road. Another woman who had been driving behind me had watched me hit the pothole, get launched over the handlebars, and roll down the road for fifteen to twenty metres. She apparently thought I was dead — she said I took the full force of the fall on my head. Several people stopped their cars to help, and thank god there wasn’t a car coming the other way, because I flew across to the opposite side of the road. A man came out of his house to help as well. By then, apparently, I was conscious and able to move. He helped me up from the bike because they were sure, from the fact I could move, that there was no spinal injury. I was bleeding heavily. Apparently I was able to answer questions — how many fingers, who I was, the passcode to my phone. I have absolutely no memory of any of it.
They called for an ambulance, which was going to take two hours. So a lovely woman called Helen Williams, deciding I was losing too much blood to wait, put me in her car and drove me to hospital herself. Something for which I will be so grateful for the rest of my life.
The weeks since then have been very challenging, to say the least. But I feel lucky to have had some pretty extraordinary doctors and nurses looking after me — people who went above and beyond to make sure I was as comfortable as possible. One of them happened to be former Welsh international and British Lions rugby player Jamie Roberts. On my last day, I requested a meeting with the Trauma Unit Manager just to tell her what an incredible team she had and how caring they had all been. I felt genuinely blessed to be in their hands. Even the food wasn’t that bad. I won’t be missing the bed baths, though — it was five days before I was able to take a shower.
After a week in hospital, I spent another week at my mum’s in Cardiff before my sister drove me back to London. It’s been four weeks now and I’m making slow progress. The scars are there, the right arm is working much better, and mentally I feel sharp and switched on. The thing that’s taken its time — the thing that has genuinely humbled me — is the broken ribs. I now have a newfound empathy for anyone who has broken even one rib, but six of them is something else entirely. Even fifteen minutes of walking causes tremendous pain. The only way I can describe it is like having a knife stuck in your back — and the more you move, the more that knife twists. As soon as that becomes more manageable (and it is, slowly), I’ll be able to start thinking about returning to training and getting back to work — which I am absolutely chomping at the bit for.
The physical injuries have hurt a lot. But mentally and emotionally, this kind of thing is very hard to process — because as much as you feel lucky for surviving, you can’t help but feel a dread about how close it came to being so much worse. You think about never seeing the people you love again and about how they would be left feeling if you weren’t there anymore.
Trauma, I’m starting to understand, is an incredibly complex thing to deal with. I’m quite aware that I’ve got a long way to go with it. It feels like 20% of me feels genuinely happy that it wasn’t worse and I’m still here — but there’s 80% of me that feels this gut-wrenching horror at how close it came to something I’d rather not imagine. You can’t stop your mind going there, however hard you try. I hope that diminishes with time.
The weeks after the accident were an incredibly emotional period — whether it was the trauma itself, the amount of morphine-based medication I was taking, or all of those things combined. I definitely experienced intense bursts of emotion that were as unnerving as they were unexpected. But I’ll say this: when you find yourself blubbering like an old fool at pretty much every single act on Britain’s Got Talent, you know something is slightly out of place inside your mind. All part of the process, I’m told.
To say that the first phone call with Helen Williams was emotional would be a huge understatement. A lot of it came out during that call — especially as she filled in the blanks of what I couldn’t remember. As much as I needed to hear it, it was also very difficult to be told what your body had been through when you have no memory of it. It’s a scary, helpless, deeply unsettling feeling.
But what a guardian angel she turned out to be. She couldn’t be a lovelier person, and I will be forever grateful to her. When I thanked her, she told me — bless her — that the only thing on her mind in that moment was the thought that if it ever happened to her own son one day, she would hope and pray that someone else would do the same for him. I found that an extraordinary thing to say. It moved me deeply, and it’s the kind of thing that stays with you. Needless to say, Helen Williams was the recipient of the biggest bouquet of flowers I have ever sent anyone in my life — and even that didn’t feel anywhere near enough. When people do things like that, it really does help restore some faith in humanity — in kindness, and in the generosity of the human spirit, despite everything going on in the world. I feel very blessed to have crossed paths with someone like that.
It was my first bike accident in 26 years, so I feel like I more than made up for it with this one. I was in the best shape of my life since I last competed at my peak in 2008. Now, walking to the end of the garden is a challenge. One thing sport has always taught me is that it can be tremendously humbling. One day you’re on top of the world; the next, you’re at the very bottom. So I’ve always tried live it for the moment, and always appreciate what I have, especially in relation to my health. I think far too often we take our bodies for granted, when we really, truly shouldn’t. All of this puts the little frustrations of triathlon into perspective. You realise how important good health and a strong, able body really is.
The wins I’ve celebrated this week have felt massive:
- Being able to sleep on my side again
- Being able to have a bath
- Being able to make my bed properly
- Being able to slightly reduce the enormous amount of painkillers I need just to get through the day
All huge steps on the road back.
What I definitely won’t miss is daytime TV and the feeling of being stuck in lockdown all over again. It’s been Groundhog Day, and then some. The mind can only take so many episodes of 4 In A Bed, Come Dine With Me and Location, Location, Location.
The irony is that when I got home, waiting for me was my brand new No Pinz time trial aero kit — shoe covers, calf leggings, the lot — which I’d been so looking forward to wearing because I’d really started to fall in love with time trialling. I’ve had to put it away for another time. The bike damage was relatively limited (as many of you have asked). I think my body took most of it: a snapped rear derailleur and some pretty severe grazing on the paintwork, but I think that’s about it. I’ll be honest I haven’t wanted to look too closely at it yet. I’m looking forward to getting it fixed and looking new again — it’s a bit of a sorry state at the moment.
This year I had entered more time trials than ever before — it had become a real passion. One of them was a 50-mile bike time trial in Reading, which came around just a couple of weeks after I got home. I’d been so looking forward to it. When the day arrived, rather than feel dread or fear about getting back on a bike, I felt something far simpler and far more telling — I was absolutely gutted not to be on that start line. I’d have given my right arm to be there. I’ll take that as a very good sign. Combine that with the fact I have all these scars now, I will finally feel more of a true cyclist than ever before.
You get knocked down, you pick yourself back up and start moving forwards. That’s what life is all about. It’s time to rebuild, brick by brick. But these are the curveballs life throws at you, and you deal with them the best you can.
I’ll genuinely enjoy the rebuilding process. I’m acutely aware it will require patience — giving my body and mind as much time as they need — but that’s something I’m clear-eyed about. What I’m looking forward to more than anything is the journey itself: getting stronger, getting fitter, rebuilding belief and confidence from the ground up. It feels, in many ways, like being given another chance. And isn’t that why we take on these challenges in the first place? As I always say, it really is all about the journey — and I just see this as a different kind of challenge now, and no less worthwhile for it.
Who knows exactly where I’ll get to with all of this. Those questions remain unanswered, and I intend to meet them head-on, just as I have done before. As some of you know, I’ve climbed a much bigger mountain than this one, and that will stand me in good stead. Right now, I feel a little bit less emotional & fragile and more like my old self, slightly stronger, more grounded, and genuinely excited about what lies ahead.
Finally, I just want to say a very big thank you to my wonderful family, friends, my squad swimmers & the athletes I work with (past and present). People who have gone above and beyond to help me, message me, or offer help in some way, you really have been incredible. I hope I managed to reply to every message that was sent to me. If you just got an emoji it meant I was completely out of it at the time. When you’re that low, they mean everything. It’s been touching beyond words, and I feel very lucky to have such genuinely caring people around me.
Thank you
Coach – Julian
Mallorca 70.3
- Hollie Strawson
- Swim: 31:16
- Bike: 2:44:32
- Run: 1:37:17
- Overall time: 5:01:06
- 4th/104 in the 30-34 category / (8th/400 female overall)
Great to see the young pocket rocket out there racing fast, absolutely firing on a very tough course out in Mallorca. To finish fourth out of 104 & 8th female overall shows how strong Hollie is getting. So close to the podium but well and truly up there mixing it with the best of the best.
- Marcus Franklin
- Swim: 31:13
- Bike: 3:20:14
- Run: 1:54:54
- Overall time: 5:58:55
- Age Category: 35-39
A real character-building day for Marcus. A superb swim set things up nicely, but the bike leg brought an unwelcome surprise — his saddle had been set far too high after the bike was rebuilt following travel, which made for a very uncomfortable few hours. The big takeaway: always double-check your setup after a rebuild. Every position, every height. Ten minutes of checks can save your race. To manage those setbacks and still get to the finish line with a solid overall result was a gutsy effort. Well done Marcus.
Venice (Jesolo) 70.3
- Matt Berrill
- Swim: 39:04
- Bike: 2:20:57
- Run: 1:34:37
- Overall time: 4:43:49
- Age Category: 25-29
Huge congratulations to Matt, who delivered a superb performance in Venice, taking a massive 14 minutes off his personal best overall. The target was sub-4:45, so to go under that in his first race of the season is a brilliant sign that all the hard work is paying off. There is still plenty more racing to come, and undoubtedly another level still to reach, but this was a fantastic way to open the year.
T100 – Pamplona (Spain)
- Nick Betteridge
- Swim: 37:04
- Bike: 2:13:29
- Run: 1:1:28:20
- Overall time: 4:28:13
- Age Category: 40-44
- Oliver Wagner
- Swim: 38:52
- Bike: 2:36:10
- Run: 1:35:50
- Overall time: 5:00:38
- Age Category: 55-59
- Bex Betteridge
- Swim: 36:46
- Bike: 2:41:07
- Run: 1:43:09
- Overall time: 5:12:26
- Age Category: 40-44 (9th)
Just wanted to give a huge shoutout to Bex, Nick and Oliver, who headed out to Pamplona, Spain for the T100 race. This was a brutally tough day at the office, with the race not starting until 1pm and temperatures climbing to a scorching 33°C. In conditions like that, simply getting to the finish line was a huge achievement in itself. What made it even more special was that all three of them had their own challenges to overcome in the build-up to race day.
- Oliver battled through injury in the lead-up
- Bex took on her very first triathlon race & a sprained ankle only a few weeks ago
- Nick had his own health issues to deal with before getting to the start line
That’s the thing about races like this — everyone has their own story, and often the biggest battles happen long before race day itself. To see all three of them dig in, fight through the conditions, and get themselves to that finish line made me feel incredibly proud. A brilliant effort from all of them.
Kona 70.3 (Hawaii)
- Zach Clerides
- Swim: 43:53
- Bike: 3:00:01
- Run: 2:04:43
- Overall time: 6:04:06
- 40-44 category
What a setting for a first official half Ironman. Hawaii has always been one of my favourite places in the world, but make no mistake, it’s one of the toughest places on the planet to race. The heat is relentless, the bike course punishingly undulating, and the conditions on the day gave absolutely nothing away. It was a true baptism of fire.
And yet, he delivered. Finishing in the top third of his age group on a day like that is outstanding by any measure. What made it possible was the racing nous he showed throughout, patient on the bike, dialled in on his pacing, and smart enough to keep something in reserve for a run leg that turned brutally hot, pushing well into the high 30s°C. That kind of discipline is harder than it sounds when you’re in Hawaii and the adrenaline is flowing around your system. A ‘bucket list’ race ticked off in great style.
Hatfield Sprint triathlon (400m pool swim/ 20km bike / 5km run)
- David Hutchinson
- Swim: 8:44
- Bike: 45:20
- Run: 21:31
- Overall time: 1:22:21
- 10th in the 40-44 category
Marlow Middle Distance triathlon
- David Hutchinson
- Swim: 50:31
- Bike: 4:14:07
- Run: 2:09:17
- Overall time: 7:22:31
- 40-44 category
Two really good races from DH to kick off the season. First, a sprint triathlon to sharpen the legs and lungs, followed by a middle distance that was brutal — temperatures into the low 30s and an absolute slog from start to finish. But the plan was always to go easy, be sensible and survive, and that’s exactly what he did. A big first Ironman still to come later this year, and this was a big piece of that jigsaw puzzle.
UTMB Ultra Trail Snowdonia 50km
- Kendra Marsh
- Overall time: 9hrs 11mins
- 1st in the 50-54 age category / 18th female overall
Races don’t come much bigger and tougher than this one in Snowdonia in Wales. Our mountain goat Kendra put in an outstanding performance to take the win in her age category over what can only be described as a brutal race on a very technical course which had low visibility and very boggy, muddy conditions. She’s managed to survive that and come through to take the win. An 18th female overall is also an outstanding effort in this quality field.
Marlow Standard Duathlon (5k run/40k bike /10k run)
- Polly Rogers
- Run 1:25:48
- Bike: 1:26:30
- Run 2: 51:04
- Overall time: 2:46:05
- Female Vet 50: 1st in age group
A perfect way to open the season. New Team Nagi athlete Polly Rogers took the win at the Marlow Standard Duathlon, and it really was a performance to savour — superb pacing throughout, a strong bike leg, and run sections that were particularly impressive. A win on debut. We’ll take that for sure.
Dorney Lake Half Marathon
- Helen Burton
- 2:48:03
- 2nd in the 70-74 category
Absolutely delighted for Helen with this performance at the Dorney Lake Half Marathon. This race was all about smart, sensible, controlled training followed by equally disciplined pacing on race day — and the reward was a superb new 5-minute personal best. Huge congratulations to H on a fantastic performance. I think the smile says it all!
The Hayes Davidson 5k Hyde Park
- David Magyar
- Overall time: 20:52
- 65-69 category
- 1st in category/ 13th male overall
A nice little leg-sharpener for ‘The Cuban Cigar’ ahead of his Half Ironman in Warsaw — and to knock out a 20:52 while only running at about 80% is quite frankly, outstanding stuff. If I’m running times like that at 65, I’ll be a very happy man indeed. Clearly they age & smoke well, those Cubans.
Training focus for the month ahead
🎯 Focus for June
Training & racing in the heat ☀️🔥
A huge focus this month has to be your ability to train and race in the heat. We’ve already seen some incredibly hot conditions — and as we move deeper into summer, this becomes a genuine performance factor. When temperatures start pushing north of 30°C, you really do have to think differently. Heat changes the game. Generally, the swim is less affected — but the bike, and especially the run, are where heat can have a significant impact. That’s where your focus needs to be.
Heat adaptation takes time
Always remember: meaningful adaptation doesn’t happen overnight. It typically takes 7–21 days of regular heat exposure before real changes begin to occur. In the early stages, sessions will simply feel much harder. That’s normal. Heart rate will rise, pace and power may drop, and what feels like a “normal” effort can suddenly become anything but. The key is accepting that and adapting accordingly.
Heart rate is your best guideIf your heart rate is 10 bpm higher than normal, you are working significantly harder — even if it doesn’t feel that way in the moment. That can come back to bite you later in the session, or much worse, at the end of a race.
In hot conditions, forget chasing speed, pace, or power numbers. Heart rate and perceived effort should lead the session. Early in heat adaptation it’s normal to see higher HR and lower output — that is not a sign you’re losing fitness, it’s the body protecting itself.
As adaptation improves, you’ll often see the opposite: more power and better pace at a lower heart rate. That’s when you know the body is starting to cope.
The run: be especially sensible
Running carries a much higher thermal load — this is where athletes can come unstuck very quickly. Try to keep heart rate within 5–10 bpm of what would normally be expected for that effort. Don’t be afraid to introduce short walk breaks (30–60 seconds) relatively frequently. That’s not weakness — that’s smart pacing. Those little resets bring heart rate down, lower core temperature, improve overall race execution, and help prevent that catastrophic late-session blow-up.
Heat preparation: acclimation & acclimatisation
You can prepare for heat before race day, and it can be hugely beneficial. There are two approaches:
Acclimatisation means training in a naturally hot environment — hot-weather camps, going abroad, racing in heat.
Acclimation means creating an artificial heat environment at home: sauna sessions, heated indoor sessions, hot bath protocols.
Over time, this improves thermal comfort — your body and brain becoming better at coping. Be patient with it. It can make a huge difference.
Hydration: non-negotiable
In hot conditions, you need to be thinking ahead. A big mistake athletes make is waiting until they feel thirsty — by then, you’re already behind. Increase daily fluid intake, use electrolytes and sodium rather than just plain water, take fluids on runs, and start every session well hydrated.
Cooling strategies
Small details make a huge difference in hot races: wear a white or reflective hat, use SPF 50 sunscreen, pour water over your head and neck at aid stations, use ice under your cap or down your trisuit if available, and stay in shade pre-race. Avoid standing in direct sun before the gun goes off. Cooling isn’t weakness — it’s race strategy.
Timing, sleep & recovery
Early morning sessions mean cooler conditions and lower thermal stress. Midday and afternoon sessions carry a significantly harder load. Sometimes the smartest move is simply shifting when the session happens.
Warmer nights can also impact sleep quality — and poor sleep means poorer recovery, which means sessions feeling harder. Cool the room where you can: open windows, use a fan, light bedding, cooler shower before bed. Always factor in sleep quality and temperature on the day before deciding how to approach a session.
The golden rule: be patient and be sensible.
Heat is not something you muscle through. Reduce intensity initially, forget speed and power goals, follow heart rate, hydrate better, fuel properly, and stay patient. Do the opposite and it can leave you feeling absolutely horrendous — and in extreme cases, tip towards heat illness.
One more thing worth knowing: research increasingly shows that heat adaptation can create meaningful performance benefits even in cooler race conditions. Many adaptations overlap with altitude training — improvements in plasma volume, cardiovascular efficiency, and stress tolerance. Heat preparation can pay dividends even if race day turns out cooler than expected.
Every athlete responds differently. Some adapt quickly, some take longer. But heat tolerance is trainable — and it’s something a lot of athletes only realise the importance of when they’re already racing in it. Don’t make that mistake. Prepare for it, respect it, and it can become a real advantage this summer.
Questions from the squad
Athlete asks: “Just checked the temps for this weekend and it says it will be rising to 33C on race day in Spain, should I adapt my pacing approach because of this? “
Coach Julian says:
Yes — absolutely.
When race-day temperatures push into the low 30s, your pacing strategy has to change. You cannot race it the same way you would on a cool day and expect the same outcome.
The key thing to understand is that the race has effectively become harder before you’ve even started. Heat increases heart rate, raises core temperature, increases fluid loss, and makes it much harder to hold your normal race intensity. If you try to force your usual bike power or run pace, there’s a very good chance it will come back to bite you later — usually somewhere deep into the run.
In conditions like this, you need to be prepared to reduce intensity, especially on the bike and in the first half of the run. That might feel counter-intuitive, but it’s the smart move. The athletes who pace conservatively early are usually the ones still running later, while many others are reduced to walking.
The most important mindset shift is this: forget normal times and normal targets. In extreme heat, the goal becomes execution. Everyone is slowed down. The athletes who suffer most are usually the ones who refuse to adjust.
Practical things that make a big difference:
- Keep the bike controlled, especially early on (1st 30km of a 70.3)
- Same approach for the 1st 10km of the run of a 70.3
- Expect your heart rate to drift higher & quicker than normal if you allow it to
- Use every aid station properly
- Pour water over your head, neck, chest and legs
- Use ice or sponges if available
- Wear a light-coloured cap on the run
- Stay on top of hydration and electrolytes
- Consider walking 30–60 seconds through aid stations so you can cool properly and drink properly
That short walk through an aid station is not failure, it’s race management. It can lower heart rate, help you absorb fluids, and keep you stronger later in the run. The big mistake is letting ego dictate the race. In 33°C heat, discipline beats bravery. Control the bike, respect the conditions, keep cooling yourself, and make sensible decisions before the race forces you to make desperate ones.
Hot races are not about chasing perfect numbers. They are about staying composed, adapting well, and getting the absolute best result possible on the day. Do that and you might be quite surprised at how high you finish even if it feels like you went a lot slower. It’s all relative to whats happen across the field at the end of the day and you can assured everyone will be going slower.
Fuel for the mind
Sometimes the best training happens away from the bike, the run, or the pool — in the stories that stretch what we think is possible and remind us why we do this in the first place.Here are a few things that really struck a chord with me this month:
🎬 Untold UK: Jamie Vardy (Netflix) – A really enjoyable watch and a brilliant reminder that some sporting stories are so outrageous they almost feel made up. From non-league football and factory shifts to Premier League champion and England international, Vardy’s rise is one of football’s great underdog stories. Raw, funny, chaotic and very honest in places — well worth a watch, even if you’re not a huge football fan. I never thought I’d be a Jamie Vardy fan but I certainly am now.
🎬 Hulk Hogan: Real American (Netflix) – Even if you’re not a wrestling fan, this is a fascinating watch. More than just the story of Hulk Hogan, it’s really about what happens when fame, ego, success and controversy all collide in one larger-than-life character. There’s plenty of nostalgia in this one, but also some surprisingly raw and emotional moments as it explores the man behind the bandana — Terry Bollea, not just Hulk Hogan. Bigger, messier and more complicated than I expected. Well worth a watch if you enjoy sporting rise-and-fall stories.
🎬 Vinnie Jones: The Wild Ride (Netflix) – A fascinating watch. From hard-man footballer and Wimbledon’s infamous Crazy Gang to Hollywood actor and television personality, Vinnie Jones has never done anything by halves. Beneath the tough exterior, the documentary also explores the personal challenges and heartbreak he has faced along the way, making it far more emotional and reflective than I expected. Entertaining, honest, funny and surprisingly moving in places — well worth a watch, even if football isn’t normally your thing.