Things I Wish I’d Known Before My First Ironman

(Alternative title could be ‘How I Paid a LOT of Money to Learn Very Specific Lessons the Hard Way’)

Note: I've included some ADIDAS kit links in the post.

An Ironman, for the uninitiated, is a 140.6-mile endurance event designed to test your physical limits, your emotional stability, and your ability to make sensible life choices at 4am. Like not ripping a giant hole in the leg of your wetsuit: See Ironman Barcelona.

Before my first Ironman, I thought I had an idea of what I was getting into. I’d read blogs. I’d listened to podcasts. I’d watched YouTube videos featuring extremely calm people saying things like “trust the process” while gently spinning on a turbo trainer in a suspiciously tidy and clean garage.

What I did not know was the following:

1. “You’ll Feel a bit nervous” Is a Criminal Understatement

I expected nerves. Butterflies. A bit of excitement.

What I got instead was a full existential crisis wrapped in neoprene. Plus a giant hole in my wetsuit when I’dd tried to pull it on too enthusiastically. Idiot Booker. DON’T DO THIS. 

In the days before the race, my brain ran a continuous loop of questions including (but not limited to):

• Why am I doing this? (You’ve paid too much to pull out now)
• Am I actually capable of this? (Remember smug man in garage video saying ‘trust the process’)
• Have I remembered how to swim? (Can I even swim?)
• Is it too late to take up crochet instead? (Yep. You’ve spent TOO MUCH now)

No amount of preparation stops your brain from panicking when it realises you’re about to voluntarily swim into open water with thousands of other delusional adults who also thought this was a good idea.

This is normal. Apparently.

Photo from Ironman Kalmar. I was BRICKING it.

2. Everyone Else is ALSO Nervous. 

On race morning, everyone looks calm. Purposeful. Like they belong there.

This is a ploy. I have now done 3 Ironman events and I have my 4th in about 10 months time. I will definitely STILL be nervous.

Underneath the aero helmets and compression socks, we are all just people desperately hoping nothing goes catastrophically wrong before the finish line. The person next to you with the £10k bike? Also quietly terrified. The one jogging confidently to the swim start? Has definitely Googled “can you fake a broken leg to get out of an Ironman” at least once.

This knowledge would have soothed me greatly if I’d known it earlier.

Actual photo from IM Barcelona when we all kept getting washed OUT of the sea

3. The Swim Is Not the Time to Be Polite

I am, by nature, British and apologetic. I say sorry when other people bump into me.

This is not helpful in an Ironman swim.

You will be kicked. You will be swum over. Someone will grab your ankle like they’re attempting a nautical kidnapping. None of this is personal. It is not rude. It is just a lot of humans moving through water with the grace of startled washing machines.

Swim your line. Protect your space. Save the apologies for later.

But on the plus side when you DO get kicked in the face it will stick your goggles on REALLY well. 

4. Transitions Are Where Dreams Go to Die

Before my first triathlon, I thought transitions were just where I went to change kit.

Transitions are, in fact, elaborate obstacle courses where your brain forgets how hands work. And definitely where you left your bike racked.

I stood in a tent staring at my kit like I’d never seen socks before. I put things on in the wrong order. I sat down. I stood up. I sat down again. Time ceased to have meaning. I also had to grab my kit back from the woman who was supposed to be helping me, but who was instead trying to pack the kit I really need away. 

Practise transitions. Write things down. Lists are king. Accept that no matter what, things won’t always go to plan. 

And make sure the changing lady doesn't nick your kit. 

5. Nutrition Is Not a Vibe

I went into my first Ironman with what I can only describe as nutritional optimism.

I had a plan. I did not follow it.

At some point on the bike, every snack I owned became deeply offensive. By the run, my stomach was staging a formal protest and my soul had left my body entirely.

Eat early. Eat often. Eat even when you don’t want to. Future You will be furious if you don’t.

BUT don’t underestimate how good sweeties taste on the bike when you really need to get that seawater taste out of your mouth. 

Also practise eating while on your race bike. I did not. I crashed the bike. I broke a rib. It was sore.

Fuelling suggestion. Good luck eating THIS on the bike.

6. The Bike Is Tricksy

The bike is NOT “the easy bit”.

This is misinformation.

The bike is long. It is mentally draining. It tricks you into thinking you’re doing brilliantly right up until the moment your legs remember there is still a marathon to run.

Ride conservatively. Ignore other people. Let them go. You are not racing them. You are racing your own terrible decision-making. Stick to the pacing you’ve practised.

Also the bike is where it is easiest to get penalties and disqualifications. Watch out for getting too close to the bike in front - you will get penalties and disqualified … it’s not worth it. 

And again. REMEMBER to fuel, take your salt tablets and drink. Set alarms on your watch for every 20 minutes if necessary. You will get carried away and forget. 

7. The Marathon Is About Problem Solving Not Running

By the time you start the run, you are no longer the person who trained for this.

You are a creature made of grit, stubbornness, and slightly questionable electrolytes. And you’ll probably be covered in snot, sweat and whatever you’ve had to eat and drink in the last few hours. DO NOT sniff yourself. You will regret it.

The Ironman marathon is not JUST about pace. It is about managing discomfort, negotiating with your brain, and making peace with the fact that walking is sometimes a perfectly respectable choice.

Break it down. Aid station to aid station. Smile when you can. Cry when you must. Keep moving.

As someone much smarter than me said “Relentless Forward Progress”. Just keep going. 

In a dark place. 

8. Training is hard, Racing is just going to Collect the Medal and the Glory

Don’t rely on the swimming, cycling and running to be all the training you do. I know. It feels a LOT.

But make sure you keep yup (or start!) the strength training. This means you’re less likely to get injured and it’ll make training easier. Yes really. 

Stronger arms, legs and core will mean your posture is better, you’re more balanced and less-injury prone. 

Also make time for cross-training. I KNOW. You have a lot of training to do already but do something different as well. Something you can do for fun.

I can’t in good faith recommend something like rugby as testicular tortion tends to put a cramp in one’s ironman training or so I’ve heard but if you’re keen, some good rugby shoes.  

Ideally something a little less intense like golf (golf shoes) or maybe even a go at padel (padel shoes)

I’ve also found yoga to be a good option as the opportunity to stretch out tired muscles and feel more balanced can be good on rest days. If you’re lucky enough to have them.

Can also HIGHLY recommend supporting at races as cross training!
The shouting and cheering and bouncing around TOTALLY counts. 

9. You WILL Surprise Yourself

This is the bit no one really prepares you for.

Despite the fear, the fatigue, the moments where you genuinely consider lying down next to the course and becoming part of the scenery… you will keep going.

You will do things you didn’t think you could do. You will find another gear. You will cross the finish line changed in a way that’s hard to explain without getting a bit emotional and weird about it.

And yes, you will probably say “never again”.

You will be lying.

Go be amazing. And please come back and tell me all about it. 

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