I raced the IRONMAN World Championship in Kona in 2023 and, if you’re heading there for the first time, I’ve got a few IRONMAN Kona tips I wish I’d known before I went. The first is that race week is absolutely brilliant — but it can also completely knacker you out before you’ve even got to race day.

There is SO much going on. Brand events, launches, swims, runs, things to see, people to meet, and because you’ve worked so hard to get there, obviously you want to do everything. I certainly did. Looking back, I’d be a bit more selective. Work out the things you really don’t want to miss and actually plan your downtime as well. Walking around all day might not be training, but your legs don’t know that.

Kona race week: you really don’t need to do everything

I eventually got into a routine of doing things in the morning and then extracting myself in the afternoon. I’d go back, put my feet up, watch a film, get my colouring books out, do a bit of yoga and generally try to forget that I was surrounded by thousands of terrifyingly fit people!

I also skipped the big pre-race swim. Travelling from the UK had taken it out of me and I just didn’t think I needed it. I did some easy Coffee Boat swims, got comfortable in the water and that was enough. By race week the work is done. You’re not suddenly going to find a load more fitness, but you can definitely find a load more fatigue.

It’s also worth remembering that you’re a visitor. Follow the local rules, ride and run where you’re supposed to and be respectful of the fact that people actually live here. Kona might feel like the centre of the triathlon universe for the week, but it’s still somebody else’s home.

And take a few home comforts with you. I had my own coffee, my own mug and familiar little things around me. Nothing revolutionary, but when everything else feels very BIG AND KONA, a normal cup of coffee from your normal mug can be surprisingly lovely.

The Kona swim start caught me out

This is something I hadn’t really considered until I was actually bobbing around in the water waiting to start. You’re lining up alongside some of the best age-group athletes in the world. Which, unsurprisingly, means there are a LOT of very fast people around you.

I’m a confident swimmer and I’m normally absolutely fine in a busy race start. In Kona I got into the water fairly early, tried to position myself off to the side and then got so caught up in the whole “OH MY GOD I’M ABOUT TO RACE KONA” thing that I didn’t pay enough attention to what was happening around me.

The field formed, I ended up boxed in and when the start went everyone took off like absolute rockets. I got pulled into the middle, went underwater in the surge and it completely threw me. I had a pretty awful swim by my standards.

I’m not saying hide at the back. If you’re there to race the front, then obviously this advice isn’t for you. But if your goal is simply to race Kona and get yourself to that finish line, keep looking around while you’re treading water. Be conscious of where the field is forming and make sure you’re actually starting where YOU want to start. If that means letting the rockets go, let them go. You’ve got an entire IRONMAN ahead of you.

The Queen K taught me to be over-prepared

I had two flats in Kona. TWO.

I can laugh about it now. At the time? Less so.

It did make me incredibly grateful that I’d thought properly about what I was carrying and that I knew how to use it. Kona is not really the place I’d want to discover that I didn’t know how to change a tyre. It’s a very long out-and-back and you can suddenly feel quite alone when something goes wrong.

That doesn’t mean carrying the entire contents of a bike shop around the Queen K with you. It just means thinking beyond the perfect version of your race. What happens if you get a flat? What if you’re out there considerably longer than you expected? What would you be extremely pleased to discover you’d put in your bag?

The same applied to nutrition and hydration. Because of the time I lost, my day became much longer than the one I’d planned for. Having extra fuel with me mattered. I’d much rather finish a race wondering why I carted something around all day than be sitting on the side of the Queen K desperately wishing I had it.

Basically, don’t pack for the perfect race. Be prepared for the race you might actually have.

When the race stops going to plan

If Kona taught me anything, it’s that an IRONMAN is as much a mental exercise as it is a physical one. You can have the best plan in the world and then race day just laughs at it.

After the swim I’d already had a worse start than I’d wanted. Then I had the two flats. Timings went out of the window and at some point I had to accept that this was not going to be the race I’d imagined.

I could either spend the rest of the day being angry about that, or deal with what was actually happening in front of me.

So have a Plan B. And probably a Plan C. Know the things you can fix, know the things you can’t and try not to let one problem become the whole race. Fix what’s immediately in front of you, get yourself moving again and deal with the next thing when it arrives.

That was a massive part of my day in Kona. It wasn’t about pretending everything was wonderful when it wasn’t. I was gutted at points. It was about making peace with the fact that the race had changed and carrying on with the one I was actually having.

The biggest thing I’d do again? Look up

This is probably the most important thing I took away from Kona, and it has absolutely nothing to do with going faster.

LOOK UP.

Seriously.

There is so much to think about during an IRONMAN. Pace, nutrition, hydration, cut-offs, how your body feels, how far you’ve got left, whether that noise your bike just made has always been there… your brain can become so consumed by getting to the next thing that you forget where you actually are.

After my second flat, something changed for me. I started talking to the island. Yes, really. 😂 I thanked it. I stopped fighting the day quite so much and started paying attention to it instead.

On the way back I began checking off landmarks. There was a lovely blue house that I remembered and I’d think, “That’s the last time I’ll see you.” Later it was the Energy Lab. Every time I passed something I knew, instead of thinking about how much further I still had to go, I tried to notice it properly. Last time I’ll see that. Last time I’ll be here.

It sounds like a tiny thing, but it gave my brain something else to do, particularly on the run when my mind had plenty of opportunity to wander. Rather than constantly calculating the enormous distance still ahead of me, I could concentrate on something small that was right there.

And then there was the sunset.

By that point the delays had got to me and I’d already had to make peace with the fact that my race wasn’t going to look anything like the one I’d imagined. Then I came out towards the Queen K and saw the sky, and I remember consciously trying to imprint it on my brain.

I can still see it. That’s the bit I’d really want someone racing Kona for the first time to remember. You can become so focused on getting to the finish line that you forget to look at the place you worked so bloody hard to get to.

Kona didn’t give me the race I’d pictured in my head, but some of the things I remember most clearly now have absolutely nothing to do with my finish time. I remember the chaos of that swim start, fixing punctures, the blue house, the sunset and consciously taking those little mental photographs because I knew I might never experience any of it again.

So yes, check your bike. Pack properly. Rest. Think about where you’re positioning yourself at the swim start. Have a Plan B and probably a Plan C.

But somewhere amongst all of that, remember to look up.

You’re racing Kona. That’s pretty bloody cool.