Christien Bird shares her Ironman 70.3 journey in Tallinn, proving that post-menopause doesn't mean slowing down—anything is possible!
This past weekend I had the incredible honour of racing in the Ironman 70.3 Tallinn—an event I’ll never forget, not just for the physical challenge, but for the emotional highs, the freezing lows, and the unshakable reminder that post-menopause does not mean post-adventure.
The whole weekend kicked off with something extraordinary: watching my dear friend and training buddy, Rebecca Peagram, cross the finish line of the full Ironman—a 3.8 km swim, 180 km bike, and full marathon—competing in the F55–59 age group. There’s a sign on the Ironman course that says “IT IS OK TO CRY.” And I did. I really did. Seeing Bec push through that immense physical and mental challenge, achieving something so powerful, had me weeping with awe and pride.
Of course, the Ironman is a long day for athletes and supporters. Once the sun dipped below the horizon, the temperature plummeted. Supporting in the Estonian night meant dancing and singing just to stay warm—which, in hindsight, was probably part of my race prep! After cheering her through the final miles, I caught just a few hours’ sleep before waking up at 6am for my own race: the 70.3 Ironman, or "middle distance" (if there’s such a thing!).
This one’s a beast in its own right:
🔹 1.9 km swim in the icy Baltic Sea—thank goodness for neoprene.
🔹 90 km bike ride through the stunning but soggy Estonian countryside.
🔹 And finally, a half marathon along the seafront, where my legs did their best to keep moving despite everything.
Let’s not forget the two transitions—essentially, mid-race costume changes—and the nutritional chess game of trying to get enough carbs in without having a disaster!
But what really tested me? The weather.
We’d trained for a warm summer race. What we got was Baltic cold, quite literally, followed by relentless rain. Midway through the bike leg, I started shivering uncontrollably—borderline hypothermic, and dangerously close to quitting. I had to make a choice: drop out, or push harder.
I chose to push.
Despite my nerves on wet roads, I pedalled furiously, desperately trying to generate body heat. My hands were too cold to open food packets, so the brilliant volunteers at the feed stations basically had to feed me. That kind of kindness? That’s the real Ironman spirit.
Then—like a gift—the sun came out during the run. The whole course felt it. Suddenly, we weren’t just surviving; we were moving with joy. I crossed the finish line happy, relieved, and completely wrung out.
What I’m left with is this: a deep gratitude for this body, this life stage, and this community. To be post-menopause and still able to support, sing and dance into the early hours, get up and race in difficult conditions, and then celebrate with beers and laughter at the end—that is power. That is possibility.
And yes, there was an early bedtime too. I’m not superhuman.
The Ironman mantra is:
"Anything is possible."
And now I know—it truly is.
Here’s to every woman rewriting what’s possible in midlife. Whether you’re running marathons, dancing in the rain, starting a business, or just getting through the day with courage—you’re in the race. And you’re not alone.
Christien Bird
Clinical Lead, Menopause Movement
August 2025
