Training Camp Isn’t a Holiday (But It Kind of Is)
- Kerri-Ann Upham
- 4 days ago
- 3 min read
I didn’t go to Lanzarote for sunshine—I went to do the work.
Two weeks at Barcelo Active Resort. We come here twice a year. Same place, same routine. It’s not flashy, but that’s the point—it’s simple, predictable, and set up for training. No decisions to make, just get up and get it done.
This block was about building into the XTERRA season. A solid base, with some race-specific intensity layered in.
You come out here expecting the weather to help with that.
It didn’t.
After a full UK winter of cold rides and long hours on the indoor trainer, I told myself this won’t last forever. I thought I’d at least get a bit of warmth, maybe even sit in the sun for
once.
Instead, the forecast turned.
Four days of heavy rain. Strong winds—too strong to ride safely.
So we adapted.
Bike sessions got pulled forward. Runs, gym, and swims filled the worst of the weather. Not ideal, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t thinking about injury risk stacking things like that.
At one point I did think, seriously? I came all this way for more of the same?
But that’s where your mindset has to shift.
You don’t control race day conditions. If it’s tough, I want to have already been there.
And still—I loved it.
Not because it was easy, but because of how simple life becomes out here:
Train. Eat. Train. Rest. Train. Eat. Sleep.
No work. No cooking. No day-to-day noise. Just full focus on getting better.
It’s a lifestyle I’ve thought about for years. And now I get a glimpse of it—and I don’t take that lightly.
There’s no sightseeing. Early alarms still go off. You go to bed early because you’re tired, not because you feel like you should.
But it’s the small things that stick—seeing other triathletes out on the road, quiet nods as you pass, meeting at a café after a ride, swimming in a 50m pool instead of counting endless lengths.
Simple, but it all adds up.
What stood out most was how much difference it makes just being away from normal life.
You’re more relaxed. You sleep better. You recover properly.
Training stops being something you squeeze in—and becomes the focus.
I also want to acknowledge Rob.
A few years ago, he had a heart attack. Since then, he hasn’t been able to train the way he’d want to.
He’d love to be out there stacking miles with me—but instead, he adapts.
He rides at the same time, just shorter routes. We meet at cafés after. He never complains about the early alarms, even when it’s his holiday too.
He understands what this takes, and he makes it easier for me to do it.
That doesn’t go unnoticed.
If you’re on the fence about a training camp—worried about cost, fitness, or whether you’re “good enough”—this is what I’d say:
It’s not about being perfect. It’s about giving yourself the space to improve.
You don’t need ideal conditions.
You just need to show up and do the work.
Right now, I’d choose two weeks of this over a big race abroad.
Because I need the time. The consistency. The volume.
And more than that—I genuinely love it.
Even when it’s hard. Even when it doesn’t go to plan.
Because when the XTERRA season comes around, I’ll know I’ve done the work.
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