countdown to Les Sables
Soft focus:
What the final days before racing Ironman feel like for me
As I build up to most races, the writing usually takes a back seat—until a post-race burst hits, and I’m scrambling to capture all the new experiences packed into something so intense and exhilarating as racing a triathlon.
Right now, I’m 10 days out from my second Ironman, on 22 June 2025, in Les Sables d’Olonne, France.
This is the part when everything feels louder—especially the noise in my head. It’s an emotional rollercoaster many of us know well. I wanted to touch on what this period can be like if left unchecked, what I do to manage it, and why—believe it or not—I end up actually enjoying it.
To set the scene: training is done. We’re in taper now, shifting focus to shedding fatigue and getting race-ready. This is when it’s tempting to look back and judge:
Did I train more or less than last time? Did I build as planned or get derailed by niggles? How does this compare to others training for the same race?
It’s a mental spiral. We’re all trying to predict what’s coming, even though we know that’s impossible.
Same with how we feel.
Am I rested or tired? Am I getting sick? If I had to race today, could I? Why does this power output feel so hard? How will I hold this for five hours in just over a week?
Judging, judging, judging. The ego never stops.
But with some racing experience, we learn the truth: nothing—literally nothing—can reliably predict whether it’ll be a good day or not. That’s the nature of pinning our hopes to a single day, and that’s the risk we take when we sign up to races.
And here’s the kicker: we can have a great race off a messy, setback-ridden build (I have), or a total flop off a textbook-perfect block (been there too).
That uncertainty can be both scary and liberating. Scary because we can’t control everything. Freeing because we don’t have to. We can only do our best for all we can control, and hope for a good day. That elusive ‘perfect day’ is ultimately what drives all of us to keep having a go! It is a choice to be proud of the work we’ve done, focus on what’s in our control, and show up with gratitude. After all, we get to do this. No one’s making us.
But those final days can feel long. The mind spins. Anxiety creeps in. Sleep takes a hit. Cortisol spikes. Mood drops. Do we really have to dread this part every time?
I don’t think so. Like many athletes, I’ve built habits and rituals that help keep things steady. Here’s what works for me:
Controlling the ‘controllables’
Testing all race gear early enough to be able to make adjustments. From the screen set-up of the bike computer to the hydration system, from the shoes to the socks, from doing a few sessions in the tri-suit as opposed to a cycling bib so the lack of padding doesn’t come as a shock (especially for Ironman distance!)
Booking pre-race bike service early. Allowing time for any part replacements and avoid last-minute panic. Same for spares—making sure I’ve got everything needed.
Knowing how to use my tools, even if it’s for contingencies (especially then!). Having more time in taper period can be a great opportunity to refine skills such as using mini-pumps, checking valve interfaces, being actually able to change a tire after a puncture. There is nothing more frustrating than realising that the race is over when the head of the mini-pump doesn’t match a valve or there is no space to fit it through the small opening of my disc wheel! Small things that can spoil everything.
Finalising my nutrition plan and do the shopping. Realizing that the salt tablets are expired while packing? Not ideal.
Starting to bank the sleep and dialing in nutrition the week before race week. Travel, nerves, logistics—things get messy, so I try to ahead of it to avoid the extra pressure.
Preparing the mind
As much as I’d like to say that over the years I have made meditation a steady part of my life, I often fall short. But in the time of building to a race it is a non-negotiable. I keep going back to two Headspace courses: “Sports - Concentration” and “Sports - Competition.” I try to complete all 20 sessions, especially in the final two weeks.
I also go dark on social media. Scrolling can feel numbing in the moment, but it always leaves me more anxious, detached, and needing to claw my way back to reality. Staying offline creates time and space—space for mindfulness, and better mental clarity on race day.
“There is a sense of strength that comes from the stillness”
This time around, something interesting happened. For some reason, there seems to always be a certain moment when the race shifts from “far away” to “right here.” For me, it hit during a brick session I’d planned as a race simulation. It was incredible how the nerves hit me hard that morning exactly the same as they do on race day.
I could not explain it, the race wasn’t for another four weeks at the time but I felt I had suddenly been thrown into race morning and there was not much that I could tell myself to make it go away. My body didn’t care. The anxiety felt so real, coming from inside. So, as I was sipping my coffee I quietly observed what was happening to me sat with it. “Perfect,” I thought. “This is a great chance to practice race morning.” I didn’t fight it. I rode the wave. And just like on race day, the nerves lifted once I started pedaling.
That experience was a sign that the race had already started taking shape in my mind. The quiet build-up had reached its tipping point. And once I embraced that and leaned into my prep rituals, the mental noise began to settle.
In the final stretch, I also like to revisit the tactics and mantras that have helped me in the past—things I can use when things get rough on race day. I prepare a few for each discipline and keep them ready.
Ultimately, we can only do so much—which, honestly, is quite a lot. And once done, we can let go and enjoy, let our bodies do what they’ve been trained to do. As eternal optimists we will keep hoping for that ‘perfect day’, but at least now we will have done all we can to lay the ground for it to unfold. And when it doesn’t, we will be ready, to adapt, to learn and maybe find out something new about ourselves.
Isn’t that what it’s all about?!
What a privilege it is to race. It’s hard every time. And making it to the start line can only be a celebration.
See you on the other side.