Given to Tri: Ironman 70.3 St. George

Race Report: 2025 Ironman 70.3 St. George

2025-05-13T12:00:00-06:00

I wish I had known at the time how good I had it the first time I raced in St. George. I struggled with the ice-cold swim and knee pain on the run, but the weather was absolutely perfect that day and I cruised to a sub-6 finish, in spite of the challenging course. It quickly became my favorite race.

I got a taste of the real St. George last year. I went with an aggressive goal of improving on that sub-6 result; I was confident I could achieve that despite the sweltering heat on race day, with just some minor tweaks to my pacing plan. I was wrong, so wrong. The heat clobbered me on the bike and I completely fell apart on the run—it was my worst result in a 70.3 to date. Of course, I immediately signed up for this year’s edition, which as it turns out, will be the last one for now.

So, one last dance in St. George. I hoped for cool weather again, but as race day approached it became clear that wasn’t in the cards—the weather forecast for race week saw steadily rising temperatures, with a blistering high of 34.4°C on race day, even worse than last year. With that, my race goals went from “personal best” to “just finish,” with a stretch goal of “no regrets.”

Read on for my last race report from the final edition of Ironman 70.3 St. George.

Pre-race preparations

I arrived in St. George the Thursday before the race, and stayed at the Best Western Coral Hills, just a couple blocks away from the Ironman Village. After checking into the hotel and dropping off my stuff, I walked over to check in for the race and do some shopping at the race expo.

By the time I was done, it was still light out and fairly warm, at 29°C, so I went back to my room to change into running clothes and do a quick thirty-minute shakedown run in the sun. That got my heat adaptation score in Garmin Connect to a whopping 16%, which made me wish I could have traveled to St. George a few days earlier to get a little bit more heat training. Race day promised to be even warmer; by now the high in the forecast had risen to 35°C, but other than occasionally training indoors over the winter with base layers on, and spending some time in the sauna and hot tub at the gym, that one run was the full extent of my heat training, and it would have to do.

This race does a split transition, with T1 in Sand Hollow State Park and T2 in downtown St. George, so as part of the check-in process I received morning clothes and gear bags, similar to a full-distance Ironman. I spent the next morning getting my bags ready, which I packed as such:

Morning clothes bag

Two pairs of Roka R1 swim goggles (one as a spare, just in case)
Swim cap
Two bottles of Maurten Drink Mix 320 for the bike leg
An aero bottle with water for the bike leg
A bottle of water to rinse my feet in T1
A small Pelican case to stash my phone and hotel room key
TriSlide spray
A Maurten Gel 100 to eat before the swim
Two Maurten Gel 160 to stash in my bike’s bento box
Garmin Edge 1050 bike computer
Polar H10 heart rate monitor
Timing chip
Headlamp

Bike gear bag

Giro Aerohead helmet
Shimano S-Phyre SH-TR903 shoes
Socks
Rapha Pro Team gloves
A sports towel
A travel-size can of SPF 50 sunscreen

Run gear bag

Race belt with my bib
Hat
Hoka Cielo X1 2.0 shoes
Roka Matador Air sunglasses
An extra pair of socks
A sports towel
A travel-size can of SPF 50 sunscreen

Later in the afternoon, I walked over to the Ironman Village to listen to the pre-race briefing and drop off my run gear bag, and then drove to Sand Hollow State Park to check in my bike and gear bag in T1, same process as in previous years. As I drove there, my car’s thermometer said it was 36°C outside; I wondered what it would be like to run in that heat. It was so hot in Sand Hollow, after I racked my bike I kneeled down to let some air out of the tires and burned myself on the pavement almost instantly. Ouch.

My bike, racked in T1. It was tight there on race day.

After scoping out the layout of the transition area and memorizing the location of my bike, I hung around for a few minutes talking to some folks and checking out the pros’ bikes—Sam Long’s bike looks incredible in person. I also took the opportunity to chat with the referees and ask them about the new World Triathlon hydration rules, since my front hydration setup had been rendered illegal. They confirmed that Ironman would adopt them and start enforcing them on May 25th, so I was in the clear for now, but I’ll have to come up with a solution before my next race.

Afterwards, I picked up my timing chip before heading back to the hotel to have dinner, double-check the rest of my gear, prepare my bottles of Maurten, take a relaxing bath, and try to get a good night’s sleep.

Thankfully, I slept like a rock. I woke up at 3:00 AM on race morning, had my usual breakfast of a plain bagel with jam and a cup of coffee, and killed some time before heading out to catch one of the shuttles to Sand Hollow. I arrived there shortly before 6:00 AM, and found transition far more crowded than in the past two years; the announcer said there were 2,400 age group athletes. I’ve never had trouble pumping up my tires before a race, but this time every single pump around the perimeter of the transition area had at least a dozen people in line—if an spectator hadn’t generously offered me his pump, I probably wouldn’t have had time to do it before transition closed.

T1 at Sand Hollow State Park, 6:35 AM, 16.7°C.

After setting up my bike and putting on my wetsuit, I handed over my morning clothes bag to a volunteer and lined up with the 43–46 minute group in the staging area, which was packed so tightly I could barely move. It took me about an hour to get down to the water, and by then I was sweating profusely under my wetsuit, which made me really look forward to a nice, cold swim for once.

The swim

I always come to this early-season race less prepared than I’d like for the swim. It’s just hard for me to swim consistently in the winter; the only lap pool in town, at the Teton County Rec Center, is about a thirty-minute drive away, its hours are limited, it closes for two weeks over spring break, and there’s always something else, like lifeguard shortages or construction or whatever. This year was no exception—a month before the race, the lap pool closed until further notice due to a mechanical failure, leaving me without a place to swim. I almost pulled out of the race altogether, but I found out that the Athletic Club, one of the fancy gyms in Jackson, has an Endless Pool, so for the past month I’ve been swimming there a few times a week. It’s expensive, but it may have been a blessing in disguise; the hours are more flexible, so I’ve been swimming more often and more consistently than if I had kept using the lap pool. I was curious if that additional volume and consistency would have an effect on my race day pace.

It was time to find out.

My race started at 7:48 AM, and the water felt great as soon as I dived in; if there’s one silver lining to this year’s hot weather it’s that the water at Sand Hollow had warmed up to a lovely 19.2°C. I wore my Roka Maverick Pro II sleeveless wetsuit, but it only took me a few strokes to get used to the cold and get to work. Sighting on the outbound leg was as difficult as usual, with the buoys aligned with the rising sun, so for the most part I followed other swimmers and hoped they could see better than me, and with a race this crowded, there was no shortage of people to follow. The “washing machine” effect was non-stop from start to finish. I had a hard time swimming through the crowd, which slowed me down quite a bit—I need to get more comfortable swimming over people, but it is what it is.

Things got a little easier after the first turn buoy; it was still crowded, but without the sun in my face, I had an easier time sighting the buoys, so I was able to distance myself a bit from other people. After passing the last buoy, I pointed myself towards the swim exit and let it rip for one last sprint. I got so into the zone that it took me a while to notice the washing machine effect had stopped; there was no one around me, except a volunteer in a kayak waving at me. That’s when I realized I had gone off course, and the last buoy I saw wasn’t actually the last one—there was one more, and I was about to pass it, illegally, on the wrong side. Oops.

You can see my brief detour near the end there.

After a quick course correction to pass that buoy on the correct side, I rejoined the crowd and got one last beatdown before sprinting for real towards the exit, finishing the swim in 40:36.

That… didn’t seem right. I had to wait until after the race to look at the distance and the GPS track to make sure I hadn’t accidentally cut the course or something, because I couldn’t believe that time when I looked at my watch. Despite my issues sighting, the crowds, and going off course, this was still my fastest 70.3 swim ever—I shaved almost seven minutes from last year’s time.

I don’t care how much it costs, I’m gonna keep using this Endless Pool. Holy shit.

T1

After exiting the water, I got my wetsuit ripped off by the wetsuit strippers before jogging through transition. I wasn’t chasing a PR, so I took a few minutes to calmly use the porta-potty, get all my bike gear on, spray on a good layer of sunscreen, pack my swim gear into my bike bag, and leave. I spent 11:04 in T1.

The bike

I was worried about the bike leg coming into this race. A year ago I thought I had appropriately adjusted my plan to account for the heat, and I was wrong—I still went too hard, my digestion started to shut down, and with my fueling plan shot, I fell apart on the run. It was a miserable slog from start to finish and I ended up walking most of the way.

I wanted to avoid that happening again at all costs, but with a high of 35°C, I would need to go much, much slower. For 70.3 races, I usually target an intensity of 84% intensity knowing that in practice I’ll end up a little lower than that; last year I revised that down to 80% and it was still too much, so for this year I decided not to have a target at all and instead go by feel. I set up a power guide in my bike computer with a target intensity of 75% anyway, but not with the goal of following it, but to make sure I didn’t exceed that. I could always go harder on the run, but if I overcooked the bike again, I’d be fucked.

For this race, I brought my Trek Speed Concept to St. George for the first time, after doing the previous races on my Specialized Aethos road bike. I considered bringing the Aethos again, along with my S-Works Evade 3 road helmet—the former because it’s great in the climbs, the latter because it’s cooler than my Giro Aerohead aero helmet—but in the end decided that if I was going to ride at a lower intensity, then I should make up for it by chasing every aero gain I could, no matter how marginal, and try to get a few minutes back. Looking at the forecast for the day, it looked like I’d be starting the run just as the temperature started to get above 32°C, so those minutes could make a difference.

For nutrition, I had two 24-ounce bottles with Maurten 320 drink mix between my aerobars, and 26 ounces of water in my bike’s downtube aero bottle, which I don’t particularly love, but I thought I’d need the extra hydration and didn’t want to waste time slowing down at the aid stations. I also had two Maurten Gel 160 in my bento box, just in case I accidentally dropped a bottle.

View this course in Garmin Connect or Strava.

The bike course was almost the same as in previous years, leaving Sand Hollow and following the local highways along the spectacular desert views of southern Utah, before getting back to St. George for the roughly 8 km climb through Snow Canyon State Park. This year the long out-and-back segment through Ivins before starting the Snow Canyon climb was removed; instead, the initial out-and-back on SR-7 after leaving Sand Hollow was made a little longer, and a short out-and-back was added at roughly the halfway point. It was otherwise the same; a very hilly course, with 1,090 m of elevation gain—I love hilly courses. For the most part it’s a safe course, with lots of road closures and tons of space between the athletes and car traffic, but there are a handful of narrow sections where it felt a little risky to pass folks, especially given how large the field was.

Shortly after leaving Sand Hollow. Credit: FinisherPix

Once I left Sand Hollow State Park and got on SR-7 for the first out-and-back, I realized my strategy of pacing on vibes was the right one—the bike course was so crowded, with people often riding three or four abreast, trying to follow any kind of pacing plan would have been next to impossible. My plan was to take it easy, so I took it easy, passing when I could, coasting when I couldn’t, doing my best to stay out of draft zones, and trying to stay in aero as much as possible. Passing was easier on the climbs, although I resisted the temptation to go too hard on them.

Overall, it was a chill, uneventful ride. The pavement was smooth, with some of the roads freshly paved, and I didn’t really feel the heat until the tail end of the ride, especially during the climbs, where I was glad I had that extra water in the aero bottle to drink and pour on myself. I made a point to take in the views one last time, especially in Snow Canyon, where the landscape is nothing short of otherworldly. I was grateful to have one last chance to enjoy riding through that incredible landscape.

Tired as I was, I went back to Snow Canyon for a short hike the day after the race. Petrified Dunes, Snow Canyon State Park, Utah. May, 2025.

The Snow Canyon climb is approximately 8 km long, with about 300 m of elevation gain and an average grade of 4%. By the time I got there, the temperature was well over 32°C; in other circumstances I would have loved to send it all the way to the top, but I had paced at a very easy 65% intensity, I had no issues so far with my fueling or my digestion, and I wanted to keep it that way. It was sweltering, with not even a hint of a breeze, and I saw a lot more people struggling with the climb than in previous years, either walking their bikes, or just sitting on the side of the road. Despite my slower pacing, it only took me two minutes longer than last year to complete the climb, although I was overheated and drenched in sweat from head to toe by the time I got to the top. I stopped at the aid station there and drank an entire bottle of water while a volunteer squeezed another one all over me; I hoped that would be enough to cool me down on the roughly 16 km descent back into St. George and T2.

The elevation profile for the bike course. The temperature at the end was 36°C.

I thought that’d be an easy ride down, but that descent was ass-puckering, to say the least. I’ve never had any trouble blasting down this descent on my road bike, but I’m still a chickenshit when it comes to descending on a tri bike. It just feels twitchy and wobbly; coming down this road on a narrow lane with car traffic on both sides and feeling like I was barely in control of my bike is one of the scariest things I’ve ever done. Despite that, I somehow rode down fifteen seconds faster than last year, the only Strava segment where I got a PR on this race.

I made it down safely and finished the bike leg in 3:08:13, over ten minutes slower than last year, but… I don’t care. Could I have gone harder? Probably, but I felt good, I was properly fueled, my stomach was behaving, and I was ready to empty the tank on the run. I’ll take that as a win.

T2

When I got to the dismount line in T2, I rolled up next to someone hunched over her bike, being helped by a couple spectators; I don’t know if she was suffering from heat exhaustion or something else, but she seemed in pretty bad shape. I flagged one of the volunteers nearby, hurried to rack my bike, and then ran across transition to the medical tent to let them know someone needed help. Once I saw her being tended to, I walked back to my spot and sat for a couple of minutes to catch my breath while I changed into running gear, reapplied sunscreen, and packed my bike gear into the bag. I didn’t have the presence of mind to make a note of her bib number, but I hope she’s okay.

I spent 11:10 in T2.

The run

This was a motherfucker of a run. I don’t know how else to put it.

The course was the same as last year: Two laps around downtown St. George with 279 m of elevation gain in total. It starts with a short, steep segment through Main Street, with an average grade of 4.5%, followed by a long segment along Diagonal Street, with a milder grade of 1.2%. Then, after crossing the pedestrian tunnel under Bluff Street, there’s a short loop on the other side before coming back for a hilly loop around Dixie Red Hills Golf Club, partly on grass. Finally, it heads back downtown on Diagonal Street to either start the second lap or turn towards the finish line. In short, the first half of each lap is mostly uphill, the second half is mostly downhill.

View this course in Garmin Connect or Strava.

The heat was already oppressive by the time I left T2, and with no shade and most of the run on hot pavement, it only got worse. I started the run feeling good, right until I hit the first uphill segment. I felt absolutely terrible running uphill, right off the bike, with the heat radiating off the pavement; my legs felt like they weighed a ton each. I was less than ten minutes into the run and I was already having serious doubts that I could even finish. I thought about walking the rest of the way, but that felt like giving up, and I knew how pissed I would be at myself later on if I didn’t give it everything I had. I resolved to keep running and walk only through the aid stations, which at Ironman races are roughly a mile apart. Just one mile between them. One mile is nothing. Barely a workout. I could easily run one mile. I simply needed to do it thirteen times in a row. No big deal. Easy.

I pressed on. Although I was pacing entirely on feels, I never slowed down to a walk, except at the aid stations, so I could make the most of them. I had a cup of water at the start and end of each one, a Maurten Gel 100 roughly every thirty minutes, shoved ice down my trisuit until they ran out, and dunked my hat in the buckets full of ice water they had set up for that purpose, which felt glorious on my head. I also took every opportunity to let the volunteers with garden sprayers and the spectators with hoses and water guns douse me with water, and let the evaporative cooling do its thing. I didn’t have any cramping or other signs of electrolyte issues, but drank a few cups of Mortal Hydration along the way just in case.

I pushed through that first half of the first lap, and by the second half, once I got back on the downhill portion of Diagonal Street, I felt renewed, like I got a second wind. Still, I kept up with my hydration and fuel plan, and kept taking advantage of every opportunity to cool down. That second wind evaporated the moment I started the second lap and started running up Diagonal Street again—the “second wind” was simply because I was going downhill. I told myself I only needed to run half the lap. Just half the lap. Just get through the golf course and it’d be all downhill from there. Just half the lap and I’d get another “second wind.” Just half the lap and the rest would be easy. Just one mile, then another, and then another. Three miles is nothing. Barely a workout. No big deal. Easy.

I didn’t hear no bell. Credit: FinisherPix

That half a lap was horrendous, absolutely miserable. According to my watch, the temperature peaked at 38°C during this time; I felt nauseous, overheated, and dehydrated. My heart rate monitor went on the fritz, with my heart rate jumping erratically all over the place—or at least I hoped the problem was my heart rate monitor. Most of the aid stations were out of ice by then, and no matter how much water I drank, how much water I dumped on myself, how much I got sprayed with water, how much I dunked my hat in the buckets, I’d be bone dry again a few minutes later. I wasn’t even sweaty, I was just covered in dry salt. The parts of the golf course that were on grass didn’t offer any relief either, it just felt like going from dry heat to humid heat; I swear I could feel the humidity wafting up from the grass. There was just no respite whatsoever from the heat.

I’m not exaggerating when I say this was the hardest run I’ve ever done. It took every bit of willpower I had, but I didn’t stop. Once I got past the golf course and stepped off the grass for the final time, I felt like I had just crossed the finish line, even though I still had about three more miles to go. It was only then that I finally believed I could actually finish this thing.

I had a Maurten Gel 100 Caf 100 at the next aid station, hoping the caffeine would give me a little oomph for that last stretch. I gave it everything I had left and finished strong, screaming and high-fiving spectators on the sidelines as I sprinted through the final chute. I crossed the finish line in 2:02:06, for a total time of 6:13:07. I finished in 100th place in the M40–44 age group, out of 195, and 975th place overall, out of 2,103. I was absolutely spent; my entire body, every joint, every muscle, hurt so badly.

It’s over. It’s done. Credit: FinisherPix

After collecting my medal and finisher’s hat, I grabbed some food at the Ironman Village, picked up my bike and gear bags, and hobbled back to the hotel for a much-needed soak in the bathtub. I slept twelve hours straight that night—I’ve never been more tired after a race.

This is bittersweet. I loved racing in St. George, even though it kicked my ass every time. I would have happily done this race every year for the rest of my life if I could. What’s not to love? It’s incredibly hard, you spend a day in one of the most beautiful landscapes in America, and St. George is a great town, full of amazing volunteers and neighbors cheering you on the whole way. I’m sad I won’t get to do this again, at least for a while, and that I won’t get another chance to try for that personal best I wanted. So it goes.

That said, while this result wasn’t a personal best by any means, it feels just as satisfying, because it was so hard-fought. I gave it everything I got, left nothing on the table, and never gave up. I couldn’t ask for a better way to close the books on this race. No regrets.

Thank you, St. George.

Next year’s edition of Ironman 70.3 St. George will be the final one

2024-12-05T16:20:00-07:00

St. George is by far my favorite race I’ve done since I started triathlons, so I’m sad to hear that the 2025 edition will be the last one for the foreseeable future. I’m signed up for it, but I was hoping to race there for many years to come.

Race Report: 2024 Ironman 70.3 St. George

2024-05-08T08:00:00-06:00

Howdy, and welcome to my third season of racing triathlons. This year, I’m starting my season again with Ironman 70.3 St. George, a race I did for the first time last year and enjoyed enormously, despite some issues during the swim and the run. I wanted to come back and try to improve on that effort.

Last year, I managed to pull off a sub-six finish, with a total time of 5:55:12, so my goal was simply to be faster than that, with a stretch goal of finishing in 5:30. That seemed attainable if I shaved ten minutes of the bike and run, plus a few more from the swim and transitions, but I also knew it was very aggressive; I got lucky last year with the great weather and cool temperature, and it seemed unlikely that would happen again. Sure enough, the forecast this year indicated a high of 31°C on race day, but I was confident I could still beat last year’s time at least.

Spoiler alert: That, uh, did not happen.

Pre-race prep

I drove from Jackson Hole the Thursday before the race, and arrived in St. George early enough that I had plenty of time check into my hotel, unpack my gear, and walk a couple of blocks to the Ironman Village and check in for the race.

With that taken care of, I went back to the hotel, changed into running clothes, and went out on a short 30-minute shakedown run while it was still warm out. May is still very much winter in Jackson Hole; it was -7°C and snowing when I left for St. George, and still snowing when I got back, so this race is too early in the year for me to have built any heat adaptations. A single run in the heat wasn’t going to make any difference, but it felt great nonetheless and was a nice way to put a bow on my training plan before the race.

The view from my bike trainer the day before leaving for St. George.

The next day, I spent the morning packing and repacking and checking and double-checking my gear bags, which I packed (and repacked) like so:

Morning clothes bag:

Two pairs of Roka R1 swim goggles (one as a spare, just in case)
Swim cap
Timing chip
Two bottles of Maurten Drink Mix 320 for the bike leg
A bottle of water to drink in T1 and rinse my feet
A Pelican G40 case to stash my phone and hotel room key
A hoodie
Headphones (not for the race, obviously, but to use while waiting to start)
TriSlide spray
A Maurten 100 Caf 100 gel to eat before the swim
N95 mask for the shuttle
Headlamp
Garmin 1040 Solar bike computer
Garmin HRM-Pro Plus heart rate band

Bike gear bag:

S-Works Evade III helmet
Fizik Transiro Infinito R1 Knit shoes
Socks
Roka Matador Air sunglasses
Rapha Pro Team gloves
A sports towel
A travel-size can of SPF 50 sunscreen
Pill bottle with sodium caps, Tylenol and Imodium

Run gear bag:

Race belt with my bib
Hat
Hoka Rocket X 2 shoes
An extra pair of socks, just in case
A sports towel
A travel-size can of SPF 50 sunscreen
Pill bottle with sodium caps, Tylenol and Imodium

That afternoon, I attended the pre-race briefing at the Ironman Village before checking in my gear. The process was the same as last year: drive over to Sand Hollow State Park to rack the bike in T1 with the bike gear bag, pick up the timing chip before leaving, and then drive back to downtown St. George to drop off the run gear bag in T2. I headed back to my hotel room to quadruple-check my morning clothes bag, prepare my bottles of Maurten for the bike, shave my legs, take a bath, and try to wind down for a good night of sleep. That last one didn’t quite happen; for whatever reason I couldn’t get a full night of sleep the entire time I was in St. George.

My bike, after checking it in at Sand Hollow State Park.

On race day, after tossing and turning all night, I got up at 3:00 AM, took a COVID test, ate a bagel with jam, and had coffee while I waited for the result. I then killed some time by doing my Wordle puzzle (got it in three) and putting together a sick pre-race playlist for the drive to Sand Hollow.

This year the shuttles were first-come-first-serve with no ticket required, so I walked over to the Ironman Village and hopped on the first one available, arriving at Sand Hollow at around 5:30 AM. It only took me a few minutes to set up my transition, so I spent the rest of my time stretching and trying to stay warm in the brisk 12°F morning. Shortly before 6:45 AM I donned my wetsuit, ate my gel, handed over my morning clothes bag to a volunteer and headed to the swim staging area. I seeded myself in the 43–46 minute group and chatted with folks while we waited to start. The male pros started at 6:50 AM and the women shortly after. It was cool to see Sam Long and Paula Findlay running by after finishing their swim; the path leading from the swim exit back to transition is right next to the staging area with the people waiting to start, so you get to cheer everyone as they finish their swim and run to their bikes.

T1 in Sand Hollow State Park, at 6:00 AM.

It took an hour for me to make my way to the starting chutes, and at 7:51 AM, I finally started my race.

The swim

Last year, I struggled with this swim for three reasons. First of all, I came to the swim with the wrong mindset: I went in expecting to have a bad time, and that’s exactly what I got. Second, I had a hard time dealing with the cold; and third, I think my sleeved wetsuit restricted my shoulder movement too much and made it hard to maintain good form.

The first issue was easy to sort out: as I learned in Coeur d’Alene last year, simply changing my mindset to look forward to the swim instead of dreading it goes a long way (I think I was also better prepared for this swim in terms of fitness than I was last year, which definitely helped). The other two were a little trickier: I didn’t want to wear my sleeved wetsuit or buy a new one, so I used my sleeveless wetsuit (a Roka Maverick Pro II) for better shoulder mobility, even though I’d probably be even colder in it. Fortunately, the water was a little warmer than last year, at 17°C, according to the Sand Hollow State Park website. I saw a number of people wearing sleeveless wetsuits around me in the swim staging area, and one dude in front of me was wearing nothing but swim trunks, which I found oddly reassuring.

That said, when my race started and I finally dived in, it still felt like a goddamn punch in the face, and the cold shock response was overwhelming. The way I deal with it when I swim in open water is to keep my head above water for the first few strokes, and start dipping my face in until I can regain control of my breathing and swim normally, but it took me a very long time to get there on this swim. I was still fighting my gasp reflex minutes into the swim, and I started to wonder if I had made a huge mistake wearing the sleeveless wetsuit. I saw a volunteer on a paddleboard nearby and for one brief moment I imagined myself holding on to the side, out of breath, quitting the race. I found the mere idea of giving up a hundred meters into the race intolerable, so I pressed on and managed to get my breathing under control shortly afterwards.

Those first few minutes were stressful, but the rest of the swim felt great; I got into a good rhythm, focused on my form, had no trouble at all sighting the buoys, and after a while, actually started enjoying how good the chilly water felt on my arms. It was an uneventful swim, although it was congested, with an almost constant washing machine effect, particularly around the turn buoys. It was difficult at times to swim past other swimmers, which slowed me down quite a bit. I finished in 46:48, just a little faster than last year, but psychologically it feels like a big win nonetheless. I still got lots of work to do on my swim, but I’m confident I can do better next time. I really wish Ironman could set up a warm-up area in Sand Hollow, though; it would make this swim far more tolerable.

T1

I felt a little dizzy coming out of the water, which sometimes happens when I swim in cold water, so I took it slow in T1 to give it a chance to go away. I spent 12:57 there, longer than I would have liked, but I didn’t want to hop on the bike too fast and risk crashing. Besides, I was confident I could make up some of that time on the bike, no big deal.

The bike

By the time I put on my cycling gear and packed my wetsuit and goggles, my dizziness had cleared up, so I grabbed my bike and headed out. The bike course was exactly the same as last year, leaving Sand Hollow and following the local highways surrounded by the spectacular desert views of southern Utah, before getting back to St. George for the pièce de résistance, the roughly 8-kilometer-long climb through Snow Canyon State Park. It’s a very hilly course, which I really enjoy, with 1,080 m of elevation gain. It’s also a very safe course, with lots of road closures and tons of space between the athletes and car traffic, except for a couple narrow sections where it felt a little risky to pass folks. The pavement was smooth and clean of debris almost the entire route, although there were a few places where the road got fairly bumpy, with one in particular that had become a veritable graveyard of ejected bottles. I don’t remember that from last year, but maybe that’s simply what a year’s worth of car traffic does to the roads.

View this course in Garmin Connect or Strava.

I felt good about my bike fitness coming into this race, but I knew it would be warmer than last year, so I planned to pace more conservatively than normal. I usually aim for 84% intensity for 70.3s, but for this race set a lower target of 80%, since the temperature would rise to at least 27°C during the bike leg, and it would be particularly noticeable during the climbs. My goal was to have a strong bike leg, but not so strong that I fell apart during what I expected to be a very hot run later on. With that intensity, Best Bike Split estimated a finish time of 2:40, which put me in the green zone of my pacing chart, and would still have been a ten-minute improvement on last year’s time. My nutrition consisted of two 24 oz bottles of Maurten Drink Mix 320, for about 80 g/h of carbs, supplemented with water from the aid stations. As usual, I used my Specialized Aethos road bike, with aerobars, for this race.

Bike pacing table for Ironman 70.3 races. Credit: TriStar Athletes

I followed my plan fairly closely after leaving Sand Hollow, staying in aero for the flats and attacking the climbs with gusto. I think even my descending skills have gotten better, or at least I felt more confident barreling down those hills in an aero tuck. However, about halfway through the ride, I started feeling the beginnings of an abdominal cramp, like the one I had last year at Ironman Coeur d’Alene. Goddammit, not again. Was I going too hard? Was it the aero position? Was it the Maurten? I didn’t know, but I’ll be damned if I was going to let it stop me from finishing another race, so I dialed back my effort, sat up on the hoods, and stopped drinking the Maurten mix. In Coeur d’Alene, I stuck to my nutrition plan on the bike despite my symptoms, which made it incredibly uncomfortable to run with my gut full of liquid sloshing around, and prevented me from fueling on the run until I inevitably bonked. I wanted to avoid that at all costs, so I under-fueled the rest of the bike leg to give my stomach a chance to clear all the liquid, and then hope I could make up enough of the deficit on the run to finish the race without bonking.

I’m not sure if that was the best course of action or an overreaction on my part, but my symptoms didn’t worsen, and by the time I got to Snow Canyon they had mostly cleared up. I put a decent effort climbing Snow Canyon, probably harder than I should have, given that I wasn’t fueling properly, but I had been looking forward to this climb and wanted to enjoy it. It was hot and grueling, but the camaraderie and banter with the folks I was riding with was enormously fun—the race director joked last year that “you may be questioning your life choices” in Snow Canyon, but for me it just reinforces how much I enjoy this sport. I made it to the top in 27:16, and after grabbing some water at the aid station, it was a fast descent back into T2 in downtown St. George. (Pro tip: dump some water on yourself at this aid station at the top of Snow Canyon; the wind on the descent will cool you down in time for T2.)

Almost at the top of Snow Canyon. Credit: FinisherPix

My intensity by the end of the bike leg was 70%, with a final time of 2:55:38, 15 minutes slower than I planned. Not the end of the world, but it was frustrating to miss the mark because of the same problem I had in Coeur d’Alene.

T2

I spent 10:33 in T2. By now my race goals were shot, so I had no reason to rush—I just wanted to finish. I took my time getting my shoes on and spraying on another layer of sunscreen, ate a Maurten 160 gel I had on my bike, drank some water, and headed out on the run course.

The run

I knew this run was going to be challenging, but it’s one thing what the weather forecast says, and another what it actually feels like out on the course, with the heat radiating off of the pavement and the sun beating down on you. In that heat, after riding a three-hour bike leg on half of my planned fueling, I couldn’t hold my target pace of 5:00/km. I slowly jogged at 5:45/km and walked through every aid station to drink water and shove ice down my trisuit and under my hat.

Not me pretending to run in front of the FinisherPix photographer. Credit: FinisherPix

After throwing my fueling plan out the window during the bike leg, I wasn’t sure what to do about it now. My original plan was to have a Maurten 100 gel roughly every 20–25 minutes, about 60 g/h of carbs, which has worked well for me in previous races. I didn’t know if I should do that and risk upsetting my stomach again or cut back like I did for the bike and risk bonking. I ended up roughly halving my intake: I had the Maurten 160 I grabbed in T2 and a Maurten 100 gel at the beginning of the second lap, plus sips of Coke at the last few aid stations. I don’t think my sodium loss was an issue here, but just to be safe, I had a cup of the Mortal Hydration mix they were giving out at the aid stations.

The course was largely the same as last year, two laps around downtown St. George, starting with a short segment through Main Street, with an average grade of 4.5%, followed by a long segment through Diagonal Street, with a mild grade of 1.2%. This year, the loop around the Vernon Worthen Park near the end of each lap was replaced by a segment along Bluff Street before looping around Dixie Red Hills Golf Club and heading back on Diagonal Street for the second lap or finish line. I didn’t notice it last year because the weather was so nice, but other than the short pedestrian tunnel under Bluff Street, this course has no shade at all, so there was little relief from the heat, except for the volunteers with hoses along the course, to whom I’m extremely grateful.

View this course on Garmin Connect or Strava.

The first lap went by quickly, and I started the second one feeling good despite my slow pace. A couple of miles into it, though, I really started to suffer. The heat felt oppressive, my energy was dwindling, and frankly I was just mentally done, so I slowed down to a walk halfway through the lap. I started bargaining with myself: “just try to make it back to Diagonal Street,” “just try to make it to the next aid station,” “just try to make it to that tree,” “just… keep moving.” I alternated between running and walking the rest of the way, but found the wherewithal to run the last stretch so I could at least get a good finish line photo.

I look happier in this photo than I actually was. Credit: FinisherPix

I finished the 21.1 km run in 2:25:59, for a final time of 6:31:54. I was nowhere near my goal; this result wasn’t just worse than last year’s, it’s my worst result to date in a 70.3. I was glad to finish the race, but felt disappointed, more than I was by the DNF in Coeur d’Alene. There, I had given it everything I had and I was certain there was nothing more I could have done; here, I know I could have done better.

Random notes & observations

Last year I raved about the Airbnb I found close to the Ironman Village, but I’m back to using hotels this year, after a bad experience with Airbnb (the travel insurance I bought from them refused to cover me when wildfires and a no-travel order from the British Columbia government forced the cancellation of Ironman Canada last summer). It sucks not to have a full kitchen, but I can make do with a microwave and a mini fridge, and at least hotels have reasonable cancellation policies. I stayed at the Best Western Coral Hills, just two blocks away from the finish line, and strongly recommend it. They even had all-night breakfast for the athletes the morning of the race.
I don’t usually eat out a lot during races because I’m in pre-race nutrition mode, but that new coffee shop close to the Ironman Village, FS Coffee Company, is really good. A breakfast sandwich, delicious pastry, and good coffee the morning after the race fixed me right up. Highly recommended.
With the news that Mortal Hydration would replace Gatorade Endurance at Ironman races in North America this summer, I bought a sampler at the expo to try out before the race. The bike aid stations were handing out the mango flavor premixed in bottles of water, and the run aid stations had cups with the berry flavor. However, nobody could tell me if either of them was the regular or salty version, which I would need to know if I wanted to rely on this for my electrolyte needs. Not that I would, because the flavor… yuck. The mango one isn’t bad, but the berry one made me gag the first time I tried it. It tasted like unset Jell-O, and was sickeningly sweet.
Fingers crossed, this might be the last time I use my Aethos in a triathlon, but man, I love this bike. Climbs are pure joy on it. A big thank you as usual to the folks at Open Range Cycles for the last-minute tune up; the bike felt great.
After riding for an hour and a half with my feet soaking wet inside waterlogged bike shoes from that downpour at Ironman Coeur d’Alene last year, I bought a very expensive pair of triathlon shoes, the Fizik Transiro Infinito R1 Knit and… I didn’t love them on this race. They caused some mildly painful hotspots on the bottom of my feet that lasted well into the run. Maybe I need to find some inserts for them, but I think I might go back to my Giro Regimes for my next race.
I’m not quite sure what to do about the digestion issues I keep having before races. After Coeur d’Alene, I suspected sodium depletion, or air ingestion during the swim. I didn’t have any issues with the latter during the swim, and felt fine coming out of the water; for the former, I preloaded sodium before the race, and I don’t think I would have been depleted so quickly. It’s possible it’s the Maurten, but my symptoms in Coeur d’Alene started before I had any, and I’ve used Maurten without issues during training and in previous races. I think my next step is to try to find a sports dietitian to help me solve this mystery.
If there’s a silver lining to the run, it’s that my knee felt great and didn’t bother me at all. It seems that I’ve at least managed to get past this one issue, which I’m grateful for.

What’s next?

While this result feels like a setback, my main goal this year is to complete a full Ironman later this summer in Penticton, so this doesn’t really matter all that much. Next month I have Ironman 70.3 Boulder and Ironman 70.3 Coeur d’Alene, both of which will be good practice to get dialed in ahead of Ironman Canada in August. In the words of Rocky Balboa, “it ain’t about how hard you hit, it’s about how hard you can get hit, and keep moving forward, how much you can take, and keep moving forward; that’s how winning is done!” That’s the attitude I try to take with these outcomes.

As for Ironman 70.3 St. George, I still love this race, no matter how hard it is, maybe because of how freaking hard it is. In fact, I already registered for next year’s race, so… Snow Canyon, here I come again.

Race Report: 2023 Ironman 70.3 St. George

2023-05-08T11:00:00-06:00

After a long and brutal Jackson Hole winter, it’s finally race season again, and I just finished my first race of the year, Ironman 70.3 St. George. I chose this as a B event for a few reasons: it’s within driving distance of where I live, it looked like a tough challenge, and I thought it’d serve as good race prep before my first full Ironman next month in Coeur d’Alene.

I originally planned to come to this race prepared to put in a decent effort and improve on my 6:14 finish in Boulder, but after facing some challenges with my swim training over the winter, and a potential knee injury in the past couple of weeks, I ended up downgrading my race goal from “sub-6 finish” to “just finish.”

Despite that, the race went both better and worse than I expected—read on for my first race report of the year.

Pre-race prep

I drove straight down to St. George from Jackson Hole on Thursday before the race, arriving shortly before the Ironman Village closed for the day, so I was able to check-in immediately, which gave me plenty of time to organize my gear that evening. I was fortunate to find a great Airbnb just two blocks away from the Ironman Village and the finish line—say what you will about Airbnb these days, but it’s still the best choice for races like this. You not only get the benefit of having a full kitchen for pre-race meals, it simply beats the hell out of commuting to the race and dealing with parking on race day.

The next day, after spending a few hours exploring Snow Canyon State Park, I grabbed my bike and gear bags and headed over to Sand Hollow State Park to check them in, since this race does a split transition. Actually, hold that thought…

How does a split transition work?

Part of the reason I write these reports is to share information that might be useful to anyone considering doing these races, in particular things I wish I had known before race day. Split transitions are one of those things; while the athlete’s guide explains pretty well how to check in your gear, it doesn’t really go into much detail on what to do with your bags in transition, and the race volunteers I talked to didn’t really know either. Online searches returned generic explanations about split transitions. They may vary by race, and I think it’s different for a full Ironman, but in any case, here’s how the split transition works at Ironman 70.3 St. George, specifically:

When you check in for the race at the Ironman Village in downtown St. George, you’ll get your race packet as usual, which includes your race bib, wristband, swim cap, stickers, etc. You’ll also get three plastic bags: a clear one, labeled “morning clothes,” a blue one, labeled “bike gear bag,” and a red one, labeled “run gear bag.” These bags have a space to put a sticker with your bib number; don’t forget to do that, and you might want to also write your name and bib number on them with a sharpie just in case the sticker falls off. You will not get a timing chip at this time, you’ll get it when you check in your bike in T1.
In the morning clothes bag, you’ll place the clothes you’ll wear before the start of the race; anything you can’t bring with you to the swim, such as your phone and keys; anything you need to finish setting up T1; and anything you might want at the end of the race, like a change of clothes or a snack.
In the bike gear bag, you put… your bike gear: helmet, bike shoes, socks, sunglasses. I also put a sports towel and a small tube of sunscreen in mine. Don’t put anything you don’t want to leave overnight in T1, such as your bike computer and bike bottles; you can bring those things in your morning clothes bag on race day.
Same with the run gear bag, you just need to put your running shoes, socks, hat, and running belt with bib attached, plus anything you might need in T2, like sunscreen.
The day before the race, you’ll bring your bike and your bike gear bag to T1 in Sand Hollow State Park, about a 25 minute drive from downtown St. George. You’ll rack your bike as usual, and tie your bike gear bag to your bike. Make sure your bag is cinched tight, in case it rains overnight. Before leaving the transition area, pick up your timing chip at the tent near the exit.
Then, you’ll drive back to T2, at the Ironman Village in downtown St. George, and check in your run gear. You’ll simply walk to the transition area, and tie your bag to your spot on the rack. That’s it. The racks in T1 and T2 are labeled and numbered the same, to help you remember where to go. I was in the middle of row H in both areas, for example.
On race day, you’ll take a shuttle from the Ironman Village to T1 to start the race (you can’t drive there, there’s no parking on race day). When you get there, you can untie your bike bag from your bike, and set up your transition as usual: attach your bike computer, set up your bottles, hang your helmet from your handlebars, clip your shoes to the pedals if you’re doing a flying mount, or just place them on the ground next to your bike (it’ll take less space since you won’t have running gear to worry about). Make sure to put your gear on top of the bag so it doesn’t fly away while you’re swimming, you’ll need it later. Don’t bring anything that won’t fit in the bag, such as a bike pump—there’ll be plenty of them you can use.
Before heading to the swim, place your clothes, shoes, phone, keys, etc. in your morning clothes bag. As you walk out of T1, you’ll hand the bag to one of the volunteers stationed for that purpose near the swim staging area.
After the swim, when you’re back in T1, take off your wetsuit, swim cap, and goggles, and stuff them all in your now-empty bike gear bag. You can just leave it on the ground under your spot on the rack; the volunteers will pick them all up and bring them back to St. George. You won’t have to come back to Sand Hollow after the race.
When you get to T2, rack your bike, get your running gear from the bag, and place your bike gear into your now-empty run bag. Hang it from your bike or the rack itself, and head out to the run.
Shortly after going through the finish line, a volunteer will hand you your morning clothes and bike gear bags, and then you can go to T2 and check out your bike and your run bag. That’s it!

Pre-race prep, continued

On race morning, I woke up at 3:00 AM, had a bagel and coffee, took a COVID test, walked out the door at 4:30 AM, and was at the Ironman Village by like… 4:35 AM. Fortunately, they let me board one of the earlier shuttles even though I had a ticket for the 5:00 AM one, so I didn’t have to stand around waiting (not that it saved me any time, because the driver got lost twice on the way to Sand Hollow).

T1, shortly before 6:00 am.

After setting up my transition, I just hung out, chatting with the folks around me. I may also have geeked out a little bit when I saw Lionel Sanders and Sam Long setting up their gear. It was a pretty cold, breezy morning, at about 10°C, and I was shivering while I waited for the swim start, even though I put on my wetsuit and threw my hoodie on top to keep me warm while I stretched.

After the national anthem was sung, I took in a Maurten 100 Caf gel, handed my morning clothes bag to a volunteer, and headed to the staging area. The pros started at 6:50 AM on the dot; I seeded myself in the 44-46 minute group and started my race at 7:29 AM.

The swim

Between the lifeguard shortage at the Teton County Recreation Center that has kept the lap pool closed on weekends since last fall, the ongoing expansion project that closed it for all of February and two weeks over Easter, and just work and time constraints, I’ve had a hard time training consistently for the swim these past few months. So, while I was reasonably confident I could swim the 1.2 miles, I wasn’t expecting to have a good time.

It was so much worse than I thought, though.

The water temperature was 16°C, according to the Sand Hollow State Park website (which at least meant Sand Hollow’s infamous Swimmer’s Itch wasn’t active). While I usually swim in cold water during training, I haven’t done that since last fall because the lake I train in is still frozen over, and since then I’ve seemingly lost all my tolerance to the cold, so it hit me hard in this race. Normally it takes me a just a few strokes to get used to the cold water, but this time it took me forever to get over the cold shock response and be able to simply breathe properly, and even then, I never got truly comfortable—I felt tense and tight the entire time, and just couldn’t seem to focus on maintaining good swimming form. I suspect my full-sleeve wetsuit might have been part of the problem; I think it restricts my movement too much. Maybe I should have used my sleeveless one, but I thought it was too cold for it.

Even though I was in one of the last groups to get in the water, I was constantly passed by what felt like hundreds of people, and of course many of them swam right on top of me. It was like this the entire time:

To make matters worse, the outbound leg of the course was aligned perfectly with the rising sun, so I couldn’t see a damn thing, even with tinted goggles. I wasted so much time just trying to figure out where the next buoy was. You can see how wobbly my GPS track is; I was all over the place.

The track colors show pace; the dark spots are the places where I had to stop to get my bearings.

I had a somewhat easier time sighting on the way back, although I still had to deal with the constant washing machine effect. When I had about 500 m to go, someone caught up with me and I accidentally kicked them, and for some reason that triggered the worst leg cramp I’ve ever had in my life. A volunteer in a kayak heard me scream and started paddling towards me, but I was convinced I was so far behind, I was in danger of missing the cutoff, so I waved them off and did my best to swim through the pain. To my surprise, I finished in 47:25, only two minutes slower than in Boulder last summer; I could have sworn I had been in the water for at least an hour. In any case, I was exhausted, frustrated, and in pain as I hobbled into T1.

I’m not sure exactly why it went so wrong, but I hated every second of this swim. I’ll need to put some serious work into fixing this before Coeur d’Alene next month; there’s no way I could have done another lap of this.

T1

I spent 12:18 in T1, most of it trying to massage out the cramp in my calf. By this point I was fully in “just finish” mode, so I didn’t even try to hurry. I applied sunscreen, used the toilet, dealt with my gear bag, and headed out when I felt I could pedal without pain.

The bike

After that awful experience with the swim, I decided to take it easy on the bike and just have fun. I had prepared a pacing strategy and set it up in my bike computer, targeting an intensity of 84%, but once I got out on the bike course I mostly ignored it and just went by ✨ vibes ✨. It was great.

Riding through SR7 after leaving Sand Hollow. Credit: FinisherPix

The bike course was phenomenal, and the weather was absolutely perfect, with temperatures in the low sixties and partly cloudy skies the entire time. It was very hilly, though, with seven climbs long and steep enough to trigger my bike computer’s ClimbPro feature, and a total elevation gain of 1,011 m. I paced myself pretty well, putting a decent effort on the climbs without blowing myself up. After getting beat up like a piñata during the swim, feeling strong on the bike, along with the encouragement from some of the people I passed on the climbs, lifted my spirits. I paid it forward as often as I could.

One of the first climbs on the course, on SR7. Credit: FinisherPix

The course went through a couple of highways with spectacular views of the sand dunes and landscape around St. George. At every point the pavement was perfectly smooth, without a single pothole or even debris in sight. While the bikes shared the road with car traffic at times, there was generous space between us, with plenty of room to safely pass other riders—nothing like Boulder’s “no passing” zones, which felt incredibly dangerous. Some of the descents did feel a little sketchy, but I blame my poor descending skills—I’m definitely no Tom Pidcock.

View this course in Garmin Connect or Strava.

Of course, the highlight of the bike leg is the segment through Snow Canyon State Park, an 8 km climb with about 300 m of elevation gain at an average grade of 4%, almost at the end, where, according to the race director, “you may be questioning your life choices.” I put in my hardest effort here and made it to the top in just shy of 24 minutes, but honestly it wasn’t so bad. The beauty of the landscape, the perfect weather, and the fact that I paced myself up to that point helped. I would have definitely suffered if it had been any hotter or I had gone harder earlier in the course. I think my bike helped too—I’m hoping I can do my next race on an proper tri bike, but the Aethos is such a great climbing bike, I really loved it on this course.

Climbing through Snow Canyon. Credit: FinisherPix

After reaching the top, the only thing left is a fast 15 km descent back into T2 in downtown St. George. My final time was 2:49:52, and I finished 39th in my age group, my best result of the day. The intensity factor for the ride was 73.5%, far below what I had originally planned, but I’m okay with it. I loved every minute of this bike course, and unlike the swim, I just didn’t want it to end.

Almost at the top! Credit: FinisherPix

This bike course alone is enough reason for me to sign up for next year’s race. It’s that awesome.

T2

I wasn’t in any rush to get out into the run course, for reasons that I’ll get to in a minute, so I spent 7:51 in T2.

The run

A couple weeks ago, while I was swimming in the pool, I must have misplaced my feet on the wall during a turn, because when I pushed off I felt a twinge of pain in my right knee, and it hasn’t felt quite right since then. I took a full week off from running, and ran a slow 10K on the treadmill with some discomfort the Monday before the race to test it out, but I was worried about it coming into the race. This was the main reason I decided to abandon my race goals and just try to finish it—I thought there was a decent chance I’d have to walk it in, if I could even finish.

The knee didn’t bother me at all during the bike leg, until I got off the bike and tried to jog in bike shoes in T2. I spent a few minutes in T2 stretching out my quads and hamstrings, and housed 800 mg of ibuprofen before heading out, hoping that’d get me to the finish line.

The run course consisted of two laps through the streets of St. George, all on pavement, except for a few sections of grass at Dixie Red Hills Golf Course, at the northern end. The segment through Diagonal Street had a relatively mild average grade of 1.9%, and the one through Main Street was slightly steeper, at 4.5%, but nothing that bothered my knee in either direction. The loop through the golf course, though, had some short but steep rolling hills that made my knee scream, especially on the second lap, so I slowed down and took it easy there.

View this course in Garmin Connect or Strava.

By the time I got to the run it was pretty sunny, but still pleasant. A guy standing on Diagonal Street kept calling out the temperature: 18°C on the first lap, and 19°C on the second lap. I had a cup of water at every aid station, and a Maurten gel every three aid stations; probably a little too many, but I never felt like I was in danger of bonking. I felt great the entire run, and could have gone a lot faster if it wasn’t for my knee. I ended up with an average pace of 5:35/km, and was happy to have a sub-2 finish, at 1:57:48. I was even happier to have a total time of 5:55:12—I had abandoned my sub-6 goal, yet accomplished it anyway!

Victory! Credit: FinisherPix

Equipment list

Tri suit: Roka Gen II Elite
Wetsuit: Roka Maverick MX
Swim goggles: Roka R1
Sunglasses: Roka Matador Air
Bike: Specialized Aethos
Bike helmet: S-Works Evade 3
Bike shoes: Giro Regime
Bike computer: Garmin Edge 1040 Solar
Watch: Garmin Forerunner 955 Solar
Heart rate monitor: Garmin HRM-Pro Plus
Running shoes: Hoka Rocket X 2
Nutrition: Maurten gels, Maurten Drink Mix 320

Random thoughts & observations

I loved St. George, what a gorgeous town. I’m particularly impressed by the bike infrastructure; I saw bike lanes and bike paths almost everywhere I went. I could see myself riding that Snow Canyon loop every weekend if I lived there. (Of course, I say that having visited in May—I might feel differently in August.)
I should have put on another layer of sunscreen in T2, though, that sun was no joke. I have a pretty good sunburn, despite applying SPF 70 sunscreen in T1.
The bike performed like a champ, a big thank you to the folks at Fitzgerald’s for the pre-race tune-up and for hooking me up with tubeless tires.
I was disappointed by the FinisherPix photos for this race. For such a high-profile, scenic location, they had surprisingly few photographers out there, and the photos aren’t great. I think there were maybe three photographers in total on the bike course, and a single one for the run, at the golf course. I got far better photos at both Boulder and Arizona last year. (I know it’s vain, but health and fitness are fickle things, and I want visual records of the times I was a triathlete, in case it all goes away tomorrow.)
This was my first complete triathlon using Garmin gear. I definitely miss the automatic transitions on the Wahoo Rival, but everything worked flawlessly on my watch and bike computer. Even though I mostly ignored it, the Power Guide feature on the Edge 1040 was particularly great, it’s a so much better experience on the bike than Best Bike Split on the Wahoo Bolt (although Best Bike Split itself as a planning tool is still light years ahead of what’s on Garmin Connect).
I don’t have a lot of big climbs in Jackson Hole, but I enjoyed the climbs on this race enough, I’m going to make a point to climb up Teton Pass more often this summer. Who knows, maybe I’ll make an Everesting attempt at some point.
The course went from 820 m at its lowest point to 1,240 m at the top of Snow Canyon, compared to Jackson Hole’s 1,950 m of elevation, but once again, I didn’t feel like the lower elevation made any perceivable difference in my performance.
I really love racing, y'all. I don’t care if I never make it to the front of my age group, it’s still so rewarding to feel like I can accomplish very hard things.

Wrap-up

Like I said at the beginning, this race was simultaneously better and worse than I hoped. Better, because I really enjoyed most of the race, the location was incredible, and I couldn’t have asked for better weather. I also eschewed my race goal in favor of just having fun, and ended up accomplishing it anyway, so I feel like I had my cake and ate it, too. Worse, because the swim was a disaster, and between that, and my knee—which, as I write this a couple days after the race, definitely feels like it’s paying the price for finishing—I don’t see how I can do a full Ironman six weeks from now. I think I still have some time to address both issues, and thankfully I have the option to transfer or defer it through the Flex90 program, but at this point Ironman Coeur d’Alene is not looking good for me.

We’ll see how that goes, but one thing is for sure—I’ll be back next year.