Karel’s thoughts on Kona……
My 20th Ironman and sixth Ironman World Championship is complete. Kona has been part of my triathlon journey five times now, and while I have plenty of Ironman experience, this race reminded me that experience only takes you so far. You have to respect the course, the conditions, and what your body is capable of on that particular day.
This year’s race was tough, as it should be. After years of relatively calm conditions, we finally got the full Hawaii experience: heat, humidity, wind, and a challenging ocean swim. I was relieved to cross the finish line in 10:11:02, finishing 37th in the 50–54 age group out of 249 athletes.
Getting to that finish line, however, was far from straightforward.
Pre-Race
Going into the race, as you probably know, I was still dealing with a partial tear in my upper hamstring tendon that I sustained near the end of the marathon at Ironman Lake Placid. My training was far from ideal. For several weeks, I couldn't bike or run consistently, and even when I returned to training, I had to be careful with how much stress I placed on my hamstring.
Swimming became my primary outlet during that period, and I was swimming well. But I couldn't prepare for the bike and run the way I normally would. My hips and back always give me issues when I ride, particularly in the TT position on my tri bike.
You can sometimes get away with being underprepared at other races, but Kona is a different story. The conditions expose weaknesses quickly, and there is very little room to make up for missed preparation.
Still, I wanted to give myself a chance to race. I knew I would need to be patient, listen to my body, and adjust my expectations.
Race morning started well,. I had been nervous two nights before the race and struggled to sleep, but I got that out of the way and I slept surprisingly well the night before. When I woke up around 4 a.m., it was pouring rain. The first time we had rain since we arrived 9 days ago. That immediately brought me a lot of stress due to a bike problem I had been trying to solve for weeks.
My electronic shifting had stopped working on race morning after overnight rain at Ironman Lake Placid. Thankfully I was able to charge the bike while I was swimming and it worked for the race. Since then, I had spent considerable time troubleshooting the issue, rebuilding the bike with new wires and repeatedly soaking it with water at home to see if I could recreate the problem. Everything seemed to be working, but I wasn't taking any chances. I brought a spare battery and charger with me to the transition area on race morning.
When I reached my bike around 5:15am on race morning, the entire system was dead. Changing the battery didn't help. I disconnected the wires and tried to dry everything out, but nothing worked.
I began preparing myself for the possibility of riding 112 miles in one gear, something I had experienced in Kona in 2018 because of a water-damaged wire on a different bike.
With time running out and no solution in sight, I took the bike to the race mechanics. They went above and beyond to help me. Even after transition closed at 6:15 a.m., they continued working on it, eventually spending nearly two hours troubleshooting the problem. They even went into the host hotel to find additional equipment to help diagnose the issue.
I had to leave my bike with them and head toward the start without knowing whether it would be ready. I was stressed and disappointed, but there was nothing more I could do.
Thankfully, Marni connected with our friend Lauren via text, who was volunteering in transition. Lauren checked with the mechanics and confirmed that my bike had been fixed and returned to my rack. That information eventually made its way to me around 7:15am through Marni and then Katie who was standing by the athlete age group corral on Ali’i drive.
Apparently, the problem was related to water getting into the system's master unit and shutting everything down. The mechanics figured it out and restored the electronic shifting.
I was incredibly relieved, but the situation had taken a lot of mental energy before the race had even started. My usual pre-race routine didn’t happen and much of my attention had been occupied by the bike even as I prepared to swim.
At that point, I had to accept what had happened and focus on what I could control.
2.4 mile Swim - 1:11:03
The swim was probably my biggest disappointment of the day.
I had put a lot of work into swimming over the previous few months, particularly because it was the only sport I could train consistently for a while after my injury. I had been swimming well in training and felt good in the open water during race week.
Race morning brought a different challenge. The ocean was warm, salty, and choppy, with large swells and the usual congestion of the age group Ironman swim.
I initially tried to stay on other athletes' feet, but the conditions were chaotic. It felt like a boxing match, and I eventually decided to look for cleaner water and swim on my own.
I've used that approach before, but I think it worked against me this time. I probably lost time swimming independently instead of staying with a group.
When I exited the water, my time was slower than I expected. It wasn't until later, when I compared my result with athletes whose swim abilities I know, that I realized it wasn’t a good swim for me.
That's part of Kona. You can prepare well and feel good, but the conditions and decisions you make along the way still influence the outcome.
I was glad to be out of the ocean.
T1: 5:54
I got out of the ocean up the stairs and quickly rinsed myself off under the showers and then grabbed my T1 bag with my shoes and socks. I put on my gear and then ran to my bike. I put on my helmet and I assumed my bike was fixed since it was in the rack but I still checked my bike and I was very relieved that it was shifting. During the swim I was trying to focus, but part of my mind was still nervous if I'd have a working bike when I got to it. It was kinda like my mind was not fully in the swim. But it was what it was and I knew I couldn't change the situation.
112 mile bike - 5:11:34
Even though I was relieved my bike was working, I wasn't sure how my back and hips would handle more than five hours in the aero position. I was also worried knowing that the tri bike placed more stress on my hamstring than my road or mountain bike.
I rarely ride my triathlon bike outside of the minimum work needed to prepare for a race because the position can aggravate my back and hips. I do most of my riding on the road and mountain bike (I rarely ride the trainer). Even in the days leading into Kona, I struggled to maintain power because my hips hurt with each pedal stroke.
My strategy was simple: ride conservatively through town, stay safe on the technical sections around Palani, and save energy for the second half of the course. I know how relentless the final miles back from Hawi can be, and in previous Kona races, I had often pushed too hard on the way out.
Shortly after passing the airport on the Queen K, around mile 15, my bike computer and its mount snapped off. I stopped, turned around, and retrieved them. I wasn't going to leave a few hundred dollars' worth of equipment on the road.
I put the computer in my pocket and continued without it.
Looking back, that may have been one of the best things that happened to me on the bike. Without numbers in front of me, I could focus entirely on how I felt rather than what my power or pace was telling me. I had no external metric to chase (or be judged by), and I was able to ride by feel (which is how I do all my training).
My legs didn't feel great during the first two hours, and my hamstring, hips, and back were speaking to me. But the pain gradually became less noticeable, and I started feeling better as the ride progressed.
When I turned off the Queen K toward Hawi, my legs began to open up. I was passing athletes and felt comfortable staying in my aero bars uphill, despite the wind.
At the turnaround, I stopped quickly at special needs (~57 miles in) to collect my three bottles. They were ice cold, and that first drink was especially welcome as I headed back toward the Queen K over one of the hottest, most exposed sections of the course. It felt like that bottle had brought me back to life.
The descent from Hawi was windy, and I saw plenty of athletes struggling to stay steady on their bikes. I felt confident and was able to remain in my aero position for almost the entire descent. It was probably the most enjoyable part of my ride.
The final 30-plus miles back to town are usually where the Kona bike gets difficult. The wind shifted between favorable conditions, headwinds, and crosswinds. The sun was strong, the hills seemed endless, and the false flats made it difficult to judge the effort required.
But for the first time on this island, I felt like I could ride my bike well on the way back without fighting significant pain. My legs were getting tired, but I could still maintain a steady effort. I didn't experience any major low points, and I was able to keep drinking and cooling myself at the aid stations.
After the uncertainty of race morning and the physical limitations I had dealt with during training, this was a meaningful part of the day for me. I had expected the bike to be a struggle, yet I finished it feeling much better than I anticipated.
FUELING
My bike fueling plan was based on what I had practiced in training. I used 32-ounce bottles containing Formula 369, with three scoops providing 90 grams of carbohydrate, along with the lemonade electrolyte booster that brought the sodium content to approximately 1,000 milligrams per bottle. I also took a caffeinated Enervit gel containing 20 grams of carbohydrate and 20 milligrams of caffeine. I didn’t feel I needed the gel but took it anyways.
Over the bike, I consumed approximately 560 grams of carbohydrate (~105g carbs/hr), 192 ounces of fluid (~38 ounces/hr), not including water from aid stations, and 6,010 milligrams of sodium (~1200 mg/hr).
I don't think I could have comfortably consumed much more carbohydrate in those conditions. The heat made fueling challenging, but the amounts I had practiced with felt manageable for my stomach.
I finished the bike without gastrointestinal issues or a significant drop in energy. That consistency gave me a better starting point for the marathon, even though my legs were far from fresh.
T2 - 4:32
After passing the airport, I began thinking about the run. I knew the hardest part of the bike was behind me, but there were still several miles to go, and I didn't want to waste energy trying to make up time.
I sat up and stretched during the final miles to loosen my back and hips before getting off the bike.
One unexpected change this year (for me compared to years past) was that athletes had to rack their own bikes rather than handing them to bike catchers. When I dismounted, my legs felt like two wooden sticks. I walked my bike to the rack and headed into the transition tent.
I put on my hat, shoes, ice bandana, and hydration belt, but in the process, I forgot to grab my flask containing my fueling powder. When I started the run, I decided not to worry about it. I knew I could adjust my plan at the aid stations.
That became a recurring theme throughout the day: things didn't always go as planned, but I had to stay calm and find another way forward.
26.2 mile run - 3:38:01
The first few steps of the marathon were rough.
Usually, I'm excited to get off the bike and start running. This time, I was thinking that I really didn't want to run a marathon.
Because of my hamstring injury, I had completed only a few brick runs during my return-to-running program over the past 6 weeks. Riding the triathlon bike aggravated the hamstring, and running afterward often made it worse. I had done perhaps three bricks in the six weeks leading into the race, far fewer than I would normally complete before an Ironman.
I was also constantly aware of the possibility of reinjuring my hamstring. I could feel it occasionally, and I worried that a longer stride or an awkward movement might cause it to rupture again.
I had to be careful without allowing that concern to consume my attention as I also needed to take care of myself with cooling, fueling and drinking. .
The crowds on Aliʻi Drive gave me some energy, but my legs never really came around. Running felt harder than it should, and I had to manage my effort according to the fitness I had rather than the fitness I wished I had.
The heat and humidity added another challenge. Although it was cloudy in town, the sun was intense on the bike and once I reached the Queen K, particularly on the long stretch toward the Energy Lab.
I spent extra time at the aid stations to cool myself and take in fluids and fuel. My on-the-go nutrition strategy became a combination of gels, Precision Hydration, Coke, and water. I wasn't moving through the aid stations as quickly as I normally would, but I knew I needed to take care of myself to keep moving forward.
Thankfully, my energy was relatively stable. I believe the consistent fueling and hydration on the bike helped me avoid a major energy crash during the run.
As the marathon went on, my legs remained heavy, and lifting them off the ground became increasingly difficult as fatigue accumulated. On the downhills, I sometimes felt better and thought I was running reasonably well. Then I'd reach an uphill and be reminded of how much work the marathon was taking.
I had to keep adjusting my expectations and effort.
When I reached the Energy Lab and special needs around mile 17, I collected the flask in my bag. At the next aid station, I filled it with cold water, and the mixture tasted surprisingly good. I drank most of it over the following miles.
Having that flask was helpful because some of the aid stations on the Queen K were farther apart than others. It gave me something to sip between stations while I continued to manage the heat.
As the miles passed, I drew encouragement from seeing other athletes and our Trimarni athletes on the course. There is something reassuring about recognizing familiar faces when you're deep into the hurt of the Ironman marathon and trying to convince yourself to keep moving forward.
By the time I reached the top of Palani and began the descent toward Kuakini, my legs were exhausted. I still had around a mile and a half to go, and I wasn't sure how well I could manage the downhill with legs that felt so beaten up.
Throughout my run, I saw some of the carnage on the course, including professional athletes who were struggling. It was another reminder that no one is immune to the demands of this race.
At that point, I wasn't interested in taking unnecessary risks. I kept working with the effort I had left, knowing that getting to the finish line safely mattered more than forcing a faster final stretch.
We often remind our athletes to always use the last aid station on Palani because the finish is still farther away than it looks. You never know what might happen in that final mile, and there is no benefit to neglecting your needs when you're so close to the end.
Eventually, I reached Aliʻi Drive and the Kona finish line.
There really is nothing like it. The atmosphere, the people, and the energy make it one of the most memorable finishes in triathlon. After everything that had happened that morning and throughout the race, getting to that magical red carpet was a huge relief.
Finishing time: 10:11:02
37th in the 50–54 age group
After the finish, our Greenville friend and my massage therapist, Lauren, greeted me. It was nice to see a familiar face rather than a stranger, which usually results in having to immediately answer the usual questions about where I was from, how my race went, and whether it was my first time in Kona. I was so empty and no energy to talk.
Lauren walked me over to meet up with our athlete Jirka, and we waited for the other Czech athletes to finish. It was nice that we had all finished relatively close together.
Eventually, I met up with Marni and made my way back to the condo, moving a little more slowly than usual. Marni was excited to tell me about the professional race, and after showering, I spent some time on the couch watching coverage of the marathon while she returned to collect my bike and bags.
That night, sleep was so-so. I went to bed around 10:30 p.m., slept for a few hours, got up to eat, slept on the couch, got something to drink, and eventually returned to bed before getting up around 7 a.m.
It was a long tough day and I was relieved to finish the race I didn’t think I would start.
This race was different from the others I've done. My training was compromised, I was managing an injury, the swim was challenging, my bike was dead on race morning, and I had to improvise my nutrition throughout the run. I couldn't rely on the usual preparation or assume that my past performances would translate to this course.
I'm proud of the way I managed the race, especially the bike situation in the morning. I’m also proud that I was able to stay patient and ride according to how I felt and that my body held up for 112 miles. I'm also grateful that my hamstring held up well enough for me to complete the marathon, even though running was uncomfortable and difficult.
This isn't a race where exceptional fitness guarantees a particular outcome. You can arrive with years of Ironman racing and great fitness in you, know your strengths, and have strategies that have worked elsewhere. But Kona demands that you pay attention to what is happening right now.
You have to listen to your body. You have to adapt when circumstances change. You have to respect the heat, the humidity, the wind, the distance, and the toll the race takes on you. This race has also taught me that you often need to let go of the race you want to have and work with the one in front of you.
I thought I would finish this race and want to close the Kona chapter but I am still motivated to train, I still love to race, I still have things I want to improve, and I'm hungry for more.
With that being said, I’m looking forward to getting home and riding my mountain bike.
-Karel