If ‘mind over matter’ was a person, it’s Martine Levy. Just in time for her 50th birthday, Martine completed 50 triathlons – Multiple Sclerosis be damned. Martine has opened up to Good Things Guy to share her incredible story (she kept her diagnosis somewhat secret for years), and if you needed a little inspiration to remind you that some mountains exist to show others they can be moved, this is it.
Cape Town, South Africa (23 March 2025) — Martine Levy kept her Multiple Sclerosis diagnosis under the rug for years. Many people didn’t know about it when she entered into a triathlon the very next day following the doctor’s appointment she’ll never forget. Nor did they know when she tackled the Iron Man Half Marathon (and many other triathlons in between).
When Martine challenged herself to completing 50 triathlons before her 50th birthday, only her loved ones knew she’d be tackling it with MS. And Martine is the first to credit their support as the reason she managed to achieve this remarkable feat.
Now, Martine is sharing her story publicly for the first time. And if you needed a little inspiration to remind you that some mountains exist to show others they can be moved, this is it:
An MS Journey as Told by Martine Levy
The 40th That Changed Everything
10 years ago, on my 40th birthday (literally the day before I turned 40), I was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis.
I had been really sporty for the past years, previously having earned my SA colours in Muay Thai and having done a few triathlons, some half marathons, and a couple of half Ironmans, but in training for the last 70.3 Ironman, things had become “challenging”. But no matter how hard I trained, I was getting slower. When I overheated, I was losing concentration, feeling disorientated, having to cut training short, and feeling completely over-fatigued. All the while, I thought it was due to overtraining.
My 2014 Half Ironman attempt was disheartening. After pushing as hard as I could and giving it everything I had, I missed the cutoff. Again. I thought I would have to train harder.
Something was off. I knew it was. My speech was a bit odd, I had a bit of a slur at times, my handwriting became very untidy, my face was feeling numb, my tongue was numb, my arm felt lame.
“I must have a pinched nerve”, I thought.
It was my brother—one of my biggest cheerleaders—that noticed there was something amiss and after a fair amount of persuasion (I did try and ignore it) I went off to the neurologist.
The MRI was clear as day—Multiple Sclerosis.
‘Huh? No. Not me’.
I didn’t quite believe it. I asked every imaginable question. What were the possible outcomes? Would I lose my mind? What was in my future? Mobility issues, spasms, pain, weakness, fatigue, tremors, balance issues, a wheelchair? I consulted Google (Don’t do this), but the outlook seemed bleak. Or was it?
I was entered into a triathlon for the very next day. I went from the doctor to tell my mom, and then I collected my race pack. I raced the next day, and that night, I celebrated my 40th birthday with my friends, wearing something that covered my shaky hand.
Keep Moving
I got it into my head that if I kept moving, I would keep moving. I convinced myself that I could train my brain to find new neural pathways to combat my balance issues, my mobility issues, my fatigue.
The next few years were ups and downs of changing medications, daily injections, MRI scans, days in hospital with intravenous treatments, making life choices in my doctor’s office every time the MRI showed another lesion, and another, and another, as the years rolled on.
‘I don’t really have MS’, I kept thinking. ‘It is all an elaborate ploy. It’s not real. I am fine’.
I wound carry on racing and doing bigger and more challenging races. I thought that I was proving to everyone who knew of my illness that I was OK, I am fine, it’s all ok. But, in reality, I was convincing myself. I can do this. I can do it all.
No One Does It Alone
I didn’t do it alone. My tribe of friends that I trusted to know my secret (that I was not bulletproof, and I was scared) all stepped up. They were all in, all the way. Not just behind me cheering, but by my side as I trained, as I raced, as I triumphed, as I failed.
When I needed to cycle, there was Natalie on the bike next to me, peddling at my slow pace when she could have easily gone faster, staying with me when I had to stop because my legs went numb or I had a bad day and landed up getting sick mid-cycle.
There was no pity. Just, “You ok? Lets go!”
Every open water swim training session (swimming around me like a Border Collie) Natalie made sure I was safe.
Jody was too fast for me, having done multiple Ironmans, Cape Epic and various other events.
Each time I mentioned I was keen on a triathlon, so was he. Every triathlon I entered, Jody entered, running his own race but keeping an eye on me as he went past, coming back to find me after he finished, making sure I was ok. Helping me pack up my gear afterwards when I was somewhat broken.
He remained by my side when an MS hug got me during a triathlon, and I was struggling to make it back to safety, sacrificing my own race to ensure I made it safely back to the race village.
I came last in races—STONE LAST–more than once, more than 10 times. I have come last in quite a few of my triathlons–even though I have been at it for around 14 years.
I cried during races…often, it hurt, a lot. There is a fair amount of pain that accompanies Multiple Sclerosis, for me—especially when I am hot and tired. Races were painful, but there was my friend Jody, along the way and at the finish. My race buddy. Always.
What Would Mart Do?
My very favourite thing is to convince my friends to come along and do some of my mad pursuits with me—it became a joke of “What would Mart do?”.
I convinced friends to run 10km runs with me, to do a marathon with me in Paris, to enter triathlons, to swim Robben Island, I mean, who wants to be out there alone?
We made ‘WWMD T shirts’ (what would Mart do). They might have thought I was convincing them, but they were inspiring me. If they could do it – so could I.
50 Triathlons Before 50
After completing 35 triathlons, I got an idea stuck in my head. In my head, I would be 50 soon, I could do 50 Triathlons by then. What person with MS can possibly do such a thing? I could – I knew I could, and it would become a driving force for me. The thought of losing my mobility one day and the possibility of a wheelchair, which I had unfortunately latched onto, would be beaten.
I would prove to myself once and for all that I could win my very personal race. There is no cure for MS at present, but there are treatments and there is hope and I had hope. And I had a wonderful support group.
Covid hit and we lost over a year of racing. I had just 13 months to complete 10 triathlons. Jody was up for it. We trawled the race calendars, finding any triathlon (big or small) we entered them all.
I decided to go for broke for the last one—the half-Ironman distance. ‘Finish on a high note’, I thought.
I had attempted Half Ironman 5 times and not finished in cutoff. I was always too slow. But only just. I would be putting all my eggs in one basket, so to speak… but, no guts, no glory. Go big.
Training with MS is a little different. The challenges of fatigue, speed, strength and balance are not in your favour. Getting faster or stronger is not really realistic for me.
There were days when my head played games with me – What was I doing? Had I bitten off more than I could chew? Days of feeling exhausted and looking at a training day thinking, ‘I just can’t’, but somehow did—even if it wasn’t the whole session, I would do what I could.
The Final Countdown
49 triathlons down, 3 x Marathons, 2 x Robben Island swims – and it was not enough for me. The Half-Ironman would make it real—I would finally prove to myself that I had won. I was in remission. Doc gave me the go-ahead. GAME ON. BRING ME THAT FINISH LINE.
Jody stood beside me on the start line. “It’s just another race,” he said – Yeah.. right.. what the hell was I thinking?
The conditions were less than favourable; it was a brutal day out with “gale force winds” (maybe not gale force – but brutal). I made it through the swim, 1.9km, in my target time; I got onto the bike and started strong. The wind was picking up, but it was behind me.
I hit the 35km mark. I was making good time, the climbs and wind were ahead, and then, the first big climb. I stood up to push and BAM! Something went in my back and my left leg went numb.
It was a bulging disk. All my power disappeared. The cycle that should have taken me 4hrs took 5hrs 26min±I was not going to make it in the cutoff. My leg was done. I was broken. I sobbed on the bike for the last 10km, in pain, my head swirling with so many mad thoughts.
There was no way I could run. I sat in transition, with the stark realisation that the dream was shattered. I couldn’t stop the tears.
But I could walk.
Just start… I had to try, just 21km to the finish line. At around the 7km Mark – there was Jody & Kelly, herself a regular on the podium at Ironman races, and my IronMan mentor, walking beside me, supporting me and keeping me going. I crossed the finish line at 10H42, possibly a record for the longest-ever half-ironman. Completing my 50th Triathlon – 6 days before I turned 50.
In the End, the Race is Only With Yourself
For years, I have kept my diagnosis somewhat secret, trusting those closest to me. Why? I was afraid of being judged somehow, I didn’t want pity, I felt this was my battle to fight and to conquer alone. That people would doubt my abilities if they knew. People can be cruel, and the words “debilitating and degenerative” scare people they don’t understand.
I was fearful of being different. But I am one of the very lucky ones. I have had amazing support from my family and wonderful friends. I have an amazing doctor who has guided and supported me.
So, that is my story. I have chosen to let people in on my secret here because I realise that I am winning my battle. I needed to prove to myself that it’s all still possible.
I would like to encourage those out there battling MS to keep moving, even if the steps are small. My challenge was 50 triathlons by 50, some MS warriors battles are 50 steps in a day.
The Ironman slogan is “anything is possible”. But as Baz Lurman says: “The race is long and in the end, it is only with yourself”.
I hope to be on the start line of another 70.3 Ironman again soon, and I hope to be able to convince a few more people to come along with me for the ride.
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