It’s hard to believe, but the IRONMAN World Championships in St. George—and a six-month training block that featured the highest training volume I have ever done—is over. The epic journey to race day was full of plenty of ups and downs, and the stress of it all peaked about a week out from the race with last-minute bike mechanical issues and COVID close contact scares. Luckily, everything mostly worked itself out by midweek, and I arrived in St. George on the Wednesday before the race with my co-pilot husband Connor and a functional bike. We checked into our condo with Jim and Ben and then proceeded to get the final race prep logistics underway.

Pre-race jitters

The pre-race “training plan” called for extremely light movement that was designed to “activate, not overload” the body. This meant that on Thursday morning, we drove out to Sand Hollow Reservoir to do a practice swim. Unlike at Lake Placid or Kona where you can go swimming in the open water whenever you want to, the practice swim at St. George was highly regulated. You lined up in your wetsuit with all of the other racers during a specific time window, put on a timing chip, and swam a designated 900-yard course with turn buoys before exiting the water. It felt like a super chill open water swim ‘race,’ and the experience of having to line up and wait to swim, enter the water when it was your turn, and then follow the course exactly was a really nice way to simulate how race morning would feel.

At 59.4 degrees F, the water itself was freezing. It was the kind of breathtaking cold that numbs your hands and feet and gives you a headache. Jim and I wore silicone ear plugs and wetsuit booties, but it was still the coldest water that I have tried to open water swim in. We completed the loop, but I exited the water with a sinking feeling that even the swim during this race—which was supposed to be nothing more than a warm up for the bike and run—was going to present many of its own challenges.

On Friday morning, we continued our pre-race activation sessions with a short run and a short ride. I ran early in the morning, but it was already hot out and my heart rate was higher than it should have been—probably a combination of conditions and nerves. I then headed out for an easy spin with Ella and Jim. The bike had been one of the bigger challenges for me leading up to the race. Fitness-wise, I was prepared, but mentally I was struggling to overcome a lot of anxiety on the bike that had started happening during our race simulation weekend in St. George a month before (you can read about our experience here). I was so nervous that I ended up in panic attack mode once again during shakeout spin and had to get off the bike and calm down for 10 or 15 minutes before soft pedaling back to the house. This was not an ideal way to close out the pre-race workouts, and it definitely shook my confidence. The rest of the day was spent getting organized and trying—unsuccessfully—to stay relaxed. My parents Bruce and Julie, and Jim’s son Soren, all arrived that afternoon and evening to complete our support squad.

Race morning

Race morning was a bit of a logistical nightmare. Unlike at most races, where T1 and T2 are in the same location, the St. George T1 is located a 35-minute drive away from town at the reservoir, while T2 is located in the center of town near the finish line. This meant that all athletes had to show up in town with our special needs bike and run bags (bags that we have access to during the bike and run), drop those off, then board school buses and drive out to the swim start. Jim and Ben were scheduled to start earlier than I was, so they left the house with my dad at 3:45 am, and Connor and I got a ride over to the town square at 4:30. I ended up waking up before 3 am (for less than four hours total of sleep), and saw Jim and Ben off before heading out in the later shift.

I was able to get on a bus fairly quickly, but Connor was not allowed on the athlete buses and had to wait on a separate line to board a bus for spectators. I put in headphones for the ride over and tried to stay relaxed, sipping on electrolytes and snacking when I could. There was a lot of nervous energy on the bus, and zoning out was the best way to avoid absorbing even more nerves.

When the bus arrived, I headed over to T1 to put my snacks and bottles on my bike (which I had dropped off the day before), topped off my tires with air, and then found Jim and Ben. Our pro move was to bring inflatable sleeping pads with us so we could lay down on a comfortable spot while waiting for *over 2.5 hours* to start the swim; most athletes were just laying or sitting on the ground. Although it was a long wait, time went by quickly, and before we knew it it was time to get wetsuits on and get ready to go. Jim started around 7:15 am, Ben was close to 7:30, and I was scheduled to start at 8. Just as they were getting ready to line up for the swim start, I found Connor, so I had someone to wait with after they left. My parents and Ella and Colleen all arrived soon after that. Then it was time for good luck hugs, a few photos, and the dreaded walk to the holding pen where I would line up with everyone else in my age group. They shuffled us along faster than expected, and all of the age 18-29 women entered the water three at a time in our green swim caps a little before 8 am.

The swim

The first good thing that happened during the race was that the water was not as cold as it had been on Thursday. A few days of 90-degree temps on Thursday and Friday and mild evenings had warmed the water up to about 64 degrees, so it was definitely less shocking than it had been during the practice. I settled into a rhythm quickly and focused on keeping my stroke long and smooth and my effort easy. It was very bright in the water and I had chosen clear goggles that fit me better than my mirrored ones, so it was a little hard to see the turn buoys, but I think I sighted fairly well and was able to stay consistent with pacing. After about 1000 yards, I made the first turn, and realized that there were a few other women in green caps around me. I figured that if we had swam the same pace up until this point, they were probably trustworthy to draft off, so I settled behind someone with a strong kick and cruised there for another 1000 or so. I could tell that there was someone right behind me too, so we had a pretty nice pace line going on.

One of the problems we kept running into was that there were a lot of slower swimmers ahead of us. Unlike at Placid, where swimmers seed themselves based on expected finish time, the World Championship races feature age group starts. The women were last (classic), so we had to fight to pass every slow swimmer in the previous waves. The water got pretty congested, especially around the turn buoys. I did my best to just stay near my drafting buddy who was pretty good at crowd control, and after about 3000 yards we had passed most of the slowest swimmers.

With 1000 to go, I decided that my pace felt relaxed enough that I still had plenty left in the tank, so I moved to the front of the pace line and increased my turnover. I ended up dropping my pace line crew and cruised into the finish in a time of 1:10, which was about the same as Placid and considerably faster than Kona. Considering that I had only done one open water swim in the 8 months prior to the race (the 900-yard practice on Thursday), I was happy with my time and effort and left the water feeling ready to take on the bike.

The wetsuit strippers helped me get the wetsuit off in three seconds flat, and then I headed over to T1. As I jogged over to the change tent, I realized that my left shoulder was really hurting near my rotator cuff. I’ve never had an injury there before, but I think I just wasn’t used to swimming with the added pressure and weight of the wetsuit and had thrown something off. At least the major rotator cuff work for the day was done, so I put it out of my head and tried to get mentally ready for the bike. I threw on my helmet, glasses, socks, shoes, and fingerless bike gloves (useful for sweaty hands in the heat), made sure to put sunscreen on, and jogged out to grab my bike while eating a fig bar. I made it out of T1 in a few minutes, saw my family and friends cheering, and headed out on the bike.

The bike

My strategy on the bike was to hold back as much as possible. I had learned during the race simulation weekend that it was extremely easy to overcook it by riding “normal” IM watts since the heat, altitude, and wind are so challenging. That meant that I had to focus on impulse control above all else and prioritize keeping my HR in check, eating, drinking, and staying cool.

As it usually is after the swim, my heart rate was skyrocketing in the beginning of the bike, and my rotator cuff was bothering me, but I was able to get things under control by taking the first out-and-back section nice and easy. There were people passing me that seemed to be attacking the initial rolling hills pretty hard. I fought the urge to keep up because I knew that I would probably see them later in the day. Within 30-45 minutes, my HR settled to a high zone 2 sustainable effort, and I actually felt a lot less anxious than I had felt previously. The course was closed to cars, the wind had not yet picked up, and it was warm but not yet HOT. I tried to smile for the on-course photographers and kept reminding myself to chill out and have fun any time my HR started to creep up, because I still had a long day ahead.

At around mile 25-30, we rounded a corner and started the grind west towards St. George. This 20+ mile section had a bunch of relentless and annoying hills, and a really strong headwind was picking up. Temps were also creeping towards the high of the day (94 degrees F). I made a point of rolling through every aid station and grabbing a cold water bottle to dump on me, which always gave me a little boost before it all evaporated and left me completely dry and hot again in a matter of minutes. I find that encountering challenging conditions in the first half of the swim, bike, or run can sometimes be mentally harder than during the second half because of the sinking feeling that you still have so far to go. Grinding against that headwind and trying to stay fueled and cool, I hit a bit of a low morale point. I eventually hit a downhill cruise into town, where I could get to bike special needs and pick up my Skratch bottles that I had sent ahead.

Unfortunately, my bike bottles (and everyone else’s) had been sitting in plastic bags under desert sun for hours, and the Skratch was actually hot when I first took a sip. The thought of getting all of that down in the already scorching temps made my stomach turn, and I spent the next few minutes puzzling through what to do so I could get enough hydration and electrolytes in. When I arrived at the next aid station, I met an amazing volunteer who offered to put ice in my bottles, which completely changed the game and got my hydration strategy back on track. She also dumped ice down my back and in my sports bra which really helped get that core temp down until the next aid station. I gave her my “best volunteer” bracelet and left the aid station feeling totally rejuvenated and ready to tackle the long climb up to Veyo.

This was the point where I noticed that most people were really struggling. I don’t think everyone had figured out the body ice trick (or even the cold water bottle trick), and a lot of people started to fall off the pace. Even though we had a tailwind that was helping us up the climb, I saw some people walking their bikes up steep sections and others that were sitting in the shade with their head in their hands. I actually felt pretty good here, and I started to pass people who had flown by me in the first 10 miles. I made it up the Veyo Wall (a very steep section before town) and to the next aid station where I could continue the ice and water strategy. Coming to a complete stop for 30 seconds or so at every aid station from there on out definitely lost me a little bit of time relative to rolling through, but ultimately I think that the speed and energy boost I got from cooling off was worth the slowdown.

From Veyo (mile 80) to the end of the bike, the carnage really started to take shape. We entered the windiest section of the course with crazy crosswinds that shake your bike, and it was the hottest part of the afternoon. I saw at least five grown men sobbing at aid stations, being consoled by volunteers. I saw people who had crashed out going 35 mph after being hit by a crosswind in aero. I saw people with heatstroke who had passed out in the kiddie pools filled with ice for drinks at the aid stations, and ambulances coming to retrieve them. I was definitely not feeling amazing, but seeing how rough other people’s race was going, I actually felt pretty good. I sat up during the windiest sections and held on so tight that my hands and wrists were hurting, but I made it through the wind in one piece without any crashes or panic attacks.

The very end of the bike course was a real slap in the face. Riders come back through town near the finish, and then leave town again to do the iconic 1200-foot climb up Snow Canyon before descending into T2. The climb started at around mile 97, and the canyon itself felt like a furnace. The wind that had assaulted us for miles was totally gone and there were no aid stations in the canyon, so you basically had to just dig deep, put your head down, and climb. More people around me were walking than riding, and many had just abandoned their expensive tri bikes on the side of the road and were laying down 100 yards back in the shade. And these were fit-looking people! I truly had never seen anything like it.

Finally, I made it to the top of the climb and turned right to descend through the crazy wind tunnel section (yes, we had to do it twice). I saw my parents and Connor at an awesome spectator spot on top of an overpass, then cruised back into town and along the run course before making it to T2. I had finished the bike with an elapsed time of around 6:44 and moving time of 6:34, for over 112 miles and 7300 feet of climbing.

Getting off the saddle felt great, and I took my time putting on run shoes, visor, and race belt before heading out to the run start. I was a little chafed from the bike and grabbed some much-needed vaseline too (thank you volunteers!). There was an aid station right at the T2 exit, and I grabbed some coke and dumped more water on me before cruising out to the course. I saw Ella, Colleen, and Soren right there, and was so excited to ever-so-briefly interact with friendly faces after hanging out in my own head on the bike for nearly seven hours. Then it was time to start the IM shuffle!

The run

The run course in St. George is the type of course you would expect if the race designers’ goal was to put together the most brutal run possible (which it probably was). It’s two miles uphill, 4 miles downhill, then 4 miles back uphill, 2 miles downhill, and a little out and back in town that gives you a false sense of being close to the finish. Then you do that whole thing again. What the hell?!

Even though it was extremely hot and windy, I actually felt okay for the first two uphill and four downhill. I was grabbing coke at aid stations and dumping cold water on myself whenever I could. At the first run turnaround, however, I was definitely starting to hit a low point, and I knew that I was low on fuel and low on electrolytes (I had expected there to be base salt at the aid stations and there was not). I was trying to take in gels but my stomach wasn’t very happy with me, so I had to stop by the porta potties twice. I ultimately made a deal with myself and said I needed to keep running except through the aid stations, where I could walk for up to 30 seconds. Going from aid station to aid station like that made the massive mileage more manageable, because all I had to do at any given time was run another mile. What’s more, basically everyone around me was walking or stopped, so shuffling along at 9-10 minute miles actually felt pretty fast.

After the first 13.1, I stopped at run special needs to try to get my salt pills that I had sent ahead there. The volunteers had some trouble finding my bag, so I wasted about a minute standing there waiting, but I ultimately think it was worth it because the salt immediately helped with the stomach issues and made me feel a little better for the second 2-up 4-down section. I also saw our support squad several times, which gave me a great emotional boost (Connor screaming “Is that my wife?!??? Woooooo!!!” was particularly awesome). It was nearly sunset, so the temperatures had finally started to cool off a little bit too, although I kept grabbing ice and water at every aid station because I was still pretty cooked from the whole day.

After the final extremely steep uphill, I stopped taking aid station walk breaks and decided that I was close enough to the end that I had little to lose by opening up my stride to the extent that I could. I clocked my fastest miles in the last few downhill, dumped one more cup of water on my head to “shower” for the finish line photos, rounded the corner, and saw that iconic finishing chute. My whole support squad was there screaming and I felt chills for the first time all day as I heard them call my name: Katie Clayton, you are an IRONMAN! Total run time 4:20, race time 12:30, 10th in my age group and 5th American. I had done it!

Final thoughts

I have mixed, but mostly positive, feelings about this race. On paper, this was the slowest IRONMAN I have ever done, and it can be frustrating when your race power and paces do not reflect the power and paces you easily pull off in training. However, St. George also featured by far the hardest environmental conditions I have ever raced (or even trained) in, and I crossed the line feeling that my performance was similar to, if not better than, my performance relative to the conditions at previous races. I don’t feel like I emptied the tank as much as I did when I was fighting for my Kona slot at Placid, but I also know that I could have gone 1% harder and ended up walking the whole marathon or not finishing at all. With all that in mind, I’m proud of myself for racing smart, if conservatively. I’m also proud that I was able to face a lot of mental demons head on in the bike and keep it together, because that was what I was most worried about going into the race and it ended up being completely fine.

Now, I’m excited to take a break from IM training and do some fun adventures while mixing in shorter races throughout the summer. I have my eye on doing another IRONMAN someday that doesn’t present such insane environmental conditions, because I do think I’m capable of a much faster day than I’ve ever truly been able to showcase. IRONMAN Norwich, anyone? IRONMAN Palo Alto?

Finally, I’d like to say thank you so much to everyone who joined me in this journey. My husband, family and friends, my on-site and virtual support squad, and my endurance partner in crime Jim: you all make this happen, and I cannot thank you enough.