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My alarm went off at 4:10 a.m., but of course, I was already awake. The anticipation of this moment was so intense. Five years in the making. Ten months of non-stop training and racing. My body and health have totally transformed. Garmin said my “fitness age” was now 46, even though I just turned 55 a few days ago. I felt in better shape than I had been since my twenties. With two weeks of taper, I was ready to burst out on to the course!
So how did I get to this point? It all started shortly before my 50th birthday in October 2019. Over the course of the previous 20 years, I had done a handful of sprint triathlons. So with mid-life in full view, I thought “now’s the time to step it up to an Olympic distance triathlon, get healthy, and lose the dad-gut.” I’ll save the details of the ensuing 5-year triathlon journey for other blogs, but fast-forward past countless sprints, olympics, and five Ironman 70.3’s to October 2024 and here I was, in Sacramento, ready to do the full 140.6 miles of Ironman California.
TRAINING
Before I get to the details of this amazing race, I’ll share a really cool chart that my coach, Gunnar Roll of TCMTriSquad, put together. It gives you the context for what I experienced during the race, based on my specific training level, as viewed through TrainingPeaks data over the ten months preceding the race:
I was typically training six days a week, eventually building to a peak of about 15 hours in the weeks ahead of IMCA. But for most of the year my volume was more centered on the 70.3 distance (~10 hours/week), with the following splits:
PRE-RACE
OK, back to Sacramento. My “Ironmate” (my wife, Kristi) and I arrived mid-day Friday at the Sacramento River Cats stadium for check-in. It’s a great venue for the Ironman Village with convenient parking, built-in food stands, stadium seating for race briefings, and lots of space for the thousands of people coming through. Check-in that afternoon was a breeze. I could tell the process was setup for a lot more volume, but I didn’t have to wait at all. Seems like most people checked in on Thursday or earlier on Friday (my number was 2263 out of about 2500). Note that for Saturday, there was only a 2-hour window in the morning for check-in.
So with my numbers, five color-coded gear bags, and swag in hand (including a rather interesting backpack with top and bottom wet-gear pockets), we browsed through the village, snapped some pics, and headed to our hotel in downtown Sacramento.
We stayed at the Citizen Hotel, which was just a couple of blocks from the Capitol and the finish line – which proved very handy at the end of the race (no need for shuttles, cars, parking, etc.). It was also technically close enough to the transition area to walk (a little over a mile), so my IronMate was able to go back and forth without needing to use the car or the shuttle buses. We loved the hotel, which was a historic high-rise insurance building back in the day. It had really nice rooms, friendly staff, and a tasty breakfast.
The only important thing left to do before the race was the Athlete Briefing and bike check-in on Saturday. In addition to taking care of my bike, I also dropped off my Bike Gear Bag with only my helmet and shoes, so I’d have one less bag to carry in on race morning. I prepped the other four bags Saturday night to be ready to go for race day (Morning Clothes Bag - with wetsuit/swim gear, Run Gear Bag, Bike Personal Needs Bag, and Run Personal Needs Bag).
Carbing it Up!
The rest of the time on Friday evening and Saturday was spent exploring the food options in Sacramento or just chilling in the hotel room with my feet up. The Ironman registration included a $25 food voucher for a number of local restaurants (part of Sacramento’s “Farm to Fork” initiative). On Friday night I opted to carb-load at the The Old Spaghetti Factory which is situated in the original Sacramento train station built in 1910 – an absolutely beautiful setting. We had lunch on Saturday at Joe’s Crab Shack in the Old Sacramento Waterfront overlooking the Ironman swim finish on the Sacramento River. For dinner we enjoyed Sauced BBQ in the Downtown Commons or “DOCO” – a great area for dining, shopping and more.
TIP: If you’re staying in any downtown hotel, your car will likely be valet parked as was ours. We did not want to risk having to wait at 4:30 a.m. when all the racers would be asking for their cars at the same time. So instead, after 10 p.m. when the meters stopped running, we got our car and parked it in the street right across from the hotel. Worked like a charm.
Race Morning
OK, back to 4:10 a.m. on race morning. I got ready, crammed in a few more carbs, and headed to the elevator. We got down to the car, walking past those waiting on the valet and my IronMate drove me to transition and dropped me off. She would go back to slumber some more, and I would proceed to fuel-up, fluid-up, and air-up my bike, drop off my remaining gear bags, and head to the buses which took us to the swim start.
It was great to see so many people from all over the world at this race. I sat next to a really nice guy from the Philippines, who was also doing his first full distance race. During the race briefing, I remembered about half of the hands going up for first timers. I was not alone. That’s a huge part of this race - it’s a community including athletes, coaches, fans, volunteers, and other supporters - all pulling together to make something special happen for each individual. In a sport where training often finds you alone, the feeling of community during an Ironman is ever-present. I also knew that my team, TCMTriSquad, was rooting for and following my teammate, Jimmie (who had a fantastic race), and me. Having that community of support makes all the difference.
The Swim
What can I say? The swim was an absolute delight. After taking care of the tactical aspects of getting out of my morning clothes and into my wetsuit and dropping off the morning clothes bag - I squeezed into the corral to find my spot in the target swim time zone (note you go to the time zone assuming there’s no river current - for me it was 1:10 - 1:20).
The gun went off, and we all shuffled along through the corral until we each heard the “beep” and headed into the water. There was no opportunity to get in the water ahead of the race, but with temps in the low 60s °F (~16 °C), there was no shock getting in. There were just a few yards to go upstream to get around the first buoy, but then it was smooth sailing downstream in the American River. With the clear water, you could see that the bottom was not far off - a distinct difference from swimming in the often murky Pacific where I’m typically racing or training. No thoughts of sharks here – although I was surprised to hear plenty of sea lions barking near the finish.
I just loved this whole stretch of swimming. The sun had just come up and was peeking through the trees along the river banks. The air was clear and us swimmers were pretty spaced out - so there was very little clambering over one another. Fully tapered, it was easy to settle into a good rhythm and oh, that current was awesome. The next thing I knew the confluence with the Sacramento River was upon me and in an instant I felt the temperature drop. But after a half hour of swimming, it felt refreshing, not shocking. And then the speed picked up more, as the current in the Sacramento River is even faster. So it was off downstream to a swift arrival at the finish ramps and on towards transition. I was shocked to look down and see that I was under 55 minutes - gotta love that current!
TIP – When you see that red turn buoy on the Sacramento, be sure to aim upstream. There were several swimmers that missed it and were struggling to swim upstream to get around it. I was fortunate, and lined it up just right.
T1
It’s a single file run up the ramps along the river bank and then you’re running on concrete towards the transition area. There’s a spot along the way with wetsuit strippers - so I tried that out. I won’t do that again. I’m so thankful and appreciative of the volunteers doing this – but it took my stripper much longer to pull off my wetsuit than had I done it on my own. I suppose if this is not something you’re used to doing it’s helpful, but if you’ve already worked out your wetsuit removal game - stick to it.
Once in transition, I grabbed my Bike Gear bag after a little hunting (it was NOT in the place I left it, so you should expect that bags get re-arranged overnight). From there you go into a large tent where chairs are waiting. You can comfortably get into your shoes and helmet and put your wetsuit and swim gear in the Bike Gear bag, which you drop off next to your bike after you hobble to your spot on the rack. Note that in a full IM, you can’t leave your shoes on your bike with rubber bands, they have to be in your bag - so you have to run in them and clip-in after the mount line.
The Bike
The relatively level course is a two-loop out and back that heads south from Sacramento and goes through some really beautiful countryside. The forecast for the day had winds reaching 10-12 mph from the south with gusts over 20 mph. Fortunately, in the morning hours it was still quite calm. So the first route south was smooth sailing and I was able to hold a nice pace while staying in my target heart rate and power zones. After turning around back to the North, however, I did start to feel some resistance from the wind starting to build.
In the weeks before the race, I had been doing some long rides and I flatted out twice. It gave me the opportunity to practice swapping tubes. I had put on brand new tires, and was carrying two tubes and three CO2 cartridges. I was prepared! But all of that still didn’t temper the sinking feeling I got in my gut when I heard the “pffffffsssssssss” at mile 30. Argh! I thought, “not again!” So I slowed to a stop… but to my surprise both tires felt fine. For real? Yeah, they were fine. So on I go, scratching my head as to what on earth it was that I heard. Am I losing it mentally, this early in the race? I ride on, and finally come to a conclusion: one of my CO2 cartridges, perhaps the one with the valve on it, must have gotten punctured and released… We’ll check in on that after the end of the race…
So I continue on to the “hot corner” turn around at mile 56 and then it starts to get interesting. The wind had picked up and it was time to deal with head- and cross-winds for the next 28 miles. But I was feeling solid. I had stuck to staying in my power and heartrate zones, and so I tucked deep into my aero position and powered on into the wind, taking out one bike after the other by sliding into their slipstream for the pass and popping out to get by. I was genuinely having a blast - like playing a video game, but in real life in an incredibly beautiful setting in the middle of an incredible event. Pure joy.
But then I was brought back down to earth and humility after seeing a series of folks dealing with tires or other technical issues. Sadly, I also came past an ambulance scene where someone had clearly come off their bike – from what I could tell though, they just got a bit scraped up. Reminders, nevertheless, that you have to be thankful for every single clean ride. In my case, I did face one technical issue – my heart rate monitor starting flaking out on me. I put in a brand new battery before the race, but my strap was several years old. It had given me some trouble a month ago and I thought it was just a bad battery. Lesson learned. Fortunately, I could still monitor my heartrate via my watch. I trashed the strap at the start of the run - I won’t make that mistake again.
So then on to the last turn-around for the final 28 back. This time the wind was solidly pushing at our backs and I could again bring my speed up. The field had spread out by this time, so not much passing/getting passed. Also, I did find that towards the end, my power was dropping… the distance was beginning to take its toll and I was yearning to get out of the saddle and on to my feet. But there was something I discovered on this leg of the race. There were still spots, out in the country, where some sizable groups of fans had coalesced. They had been out there for hours, and it occurred to me that it was probably getting a bit boring watching bike after weary bike zoom by. So I tried something new. As I went through another group, instead of the slight nod and wave, I sat up and pumped my fists in the air and cheered them on. In return, they gave me not just a few “way to go’s” but the whole group erupted in a roar - that was so energizing! I would come back to that again on the run…where more than ever, I needed power-ups.
T2
I went through the dismount, scooted to my rack spot, racked my bike, grabbed my Run Gear bag and headed to the tent again. Swapped my run gear for my bike gear in the bag, headed out of the tent and handed off my bag to the volunteers, and I was on course!
The Run and the Slog
So I had just come off what felt like a wonderful swim and a joy of a bike. All that training had paid off, and made those two legs feel great (in both senses of the word). But I was certainly tired and the thought of doing an entire marathon now still seemed crazy. But I had read about this moment, mentally prepared for it, had stuck to my fueling plan, and felt I was about as ready as I could be.
Around transition, there were lots of crowds cheering us on, and so I felt that energy and it set me off at a good pace. Legs felt good. Heart rate was in the right zone (as measured at my wrist, after tossing my faulty strap). Weather was warm, not hot. I felt plenty hydrated. What could go wrong?
In my last 70.3 in Santa Cruz, I made the mistake of going out way too fast on the run. I wanted a PR and felt I could pull it off on the run, so I went out fast… only to totally burn up in the last 4-5 miles. So this time, I was going to hold back early, and slow my pace. It was a marathon after all.
This strategy worked and got me through the first nine miles or so, where I was holding back to what I felt was a relatively slow & steady, but solid pace. But then the tables turned. I was no longer holding back to keep that pace, it was all I could do. And then my pace started slipping. My heart rate was slowing as well. My feet started to hurt. The ligaments on the outside of my left knee were getting painful. I walked the aid stations and that felt good. I had to walk the short uphills - and the ensuing short downhills were a bit scary as the faster pace felt dangerous.
I kept fueling, but was really hating the flavor of the gels. So many gels. So much sugar. My gut was saying “really, you’re seriously going to keep eating sugary goo?” So I grabbed orange slices and grapes, anything for a change. Salt tablets seemed to help my knee some, so I kept that up and made sure to get electrolytes at each aid station. My pace then settled down to a really slow jog. At times, I came alongside people that were doing a fast walk - I felt like I was hardly going faster. But I kept up the jog.
At the midway point, I was back to the crowds near transition. I used this opportunity to “power up” again. It was starting to get dark, but they were still out there cheering and so as I ran through, I pumped my palms in the air begging for their cheers, and worked them into a roar again as I engaged. It was soooooo energizing. And even though I could only keep it up through the short sections of crowds, my pace just naturally accelerated as I fed off them. It was great motivation to keep on going.
The jog became a slog, and night set in. I was really glad to have my headlamp as there were many very dark sections. But I was not alone. Others around were struggling too. Sadly, I came across an ambulance with medics surrounding a man buckled up in a fetal position alongside the road. Many were walking (again, I barely passed them). I met a cheerful woman, who asked the group of us running at a similar pace “how’re we doing guys?”
I said, “we’re gettin’ there, were going do this thing, just another 6 miles or so.”“Oh,” she said, “you’re on lap two? I’ve got a whole other lap to go!” But she was still cheerful and positive. “You got this!” I said.
And then there was the broth. Oh yes. The hot, chicken broth started showing up at the aid stations. Oh, that tasted so good. What a welcome change from more sugar.
The remaining dark miles are a bit of blur. I would count each section down in segments. 5K at a time. Then one mile at a time. Aid-station to aid-station. Quarter miles, any little milestone helped. Until finally, I turned away from the loop and headed towards the Capitol and the finish line. After going past the remaining crowds near transition, it was surprisingly quiet, dark, and lonely running through the urban streets of Sacramento. I needed the headlamp even on that stretch. Every quarter mile seemed to take forever, but the thought of the finish line and the realization that I could come in under my goal of 13 hours kept me going, and quickened my pace ever so slightly. It was all I could do until I turned and saw the last stretch, which was somewhat cruel in that you do a lap that goes up and back directly next to the finish line. And there it was, the first timer’s bell and lights of the finish line. And finally, those words I’ve longed to hear: “Carsten Puls you are an Ironman!”
Post Race
All I wanted to do was sit or lie down. I found the closest concrete planter and just sat… taking it all in, completely exhausted. My wife and I had failed to have a post-race plan. I just assumed she’d find me. But with all the crowds, it took about 20 minutes until she did. By that time, I was ready for some food and there were a ton of food trucks to choose from. As a mostly pescatarian for the last year, I absolutely savored and devoured a BBQ brisket sandwich - a welcome treat.
And then it was time to walk back to the hotel, but… a brisk northerly wind was now flowing through the Capitol Mall and I found myself shivering. Within minutes I was shaking uncontrollably and realized I was headed towards hypothermia and in no shape to walk back to the hotel. Fortunately, the medical tent was right there. The kind staff brought me into the really warm tent, sat me down and covered me up with some more mylar blankets and gave me some more of that wonderful hot chicken broth. After ten minutes or so, I was good enough for the walk back to the hotel.
Kristi was kind enough to use the checkout tickets and go get my bike and gear for me, while I stayed warm in bed. When she came back and wheeled in the bike, I was anxious to resolve the mystery of that “ghost flat.” I unpacked the CO2 cartridges one by one from my Quintana Roo’s X-PR Qbox expecting to find a spent one and… no dice. They were all in tact, leaving me guessing as to what happened out there. An odd section of pavement, perhaps someone behind me with a tubeless setup that hit a nail, a mental moment? I guess I’ll never know… Just like I’ll never quite know what it was that kept me from holding my pace all the way through the run. Not enough fuel, maybe I went too hard on the bike, not enough run training at IM pace, should I have just pushed harder, or something else? Or maybe, as my wife pointed out, it’s just because it’s a really long race!
I watched Lionel Sanders’ video review of his Ironman World Championships performance in Kona the day before, and he was dealing with the same kind of mystery about his run. So even the pros are challenged to nail it every time. This is part of what makes triathlon such an intriguing and challenging sport - you can never be 100% sure of exactly what will happen on race day. But I guarantee you this, regardless of how you do in the race, finish or not, crush it or not, the journey to get there, the community you become a part of, and the experience of showing up on race day to give it your all will change you and will be nothing like anything else you’ve ever done.
Lastly, here are my top 10 do’s and don’ts for an Ironman race:
10 DOs
Do get a full Ironman-specific bike fitting ahead of the race
Do put on brand new tires and tubes before the race
Do arrive on Friday for a Sunday race
Do drop off your Bike Personal Needs bag (helmet/shoes) the day before the race
Do mix your gels into your water bottles for your bike and run
Do bring a headlamp on the run (unless you’re really fast)
Do drink the chicken broth at the run aid stations
Do hype the crowds when you ride/run through
Do ring the bell in the finish chute if it’s your first Ironman 140.6
Do understand that post-race Ironman blues are real, but don’t worry you’ll get over it
and 10 DON’Ts
Don’t eat too much the night before the race (carb load one night earlier)
Don’t rely on valet parking at your hotel for race morning
Don’t use the “Triathlon” activity setting on your Garmin watch (you won’t have enough battery. Instead, record the swim and run on your watch, but record the bike on your bike computer).
Don’t wear an old heart rate monitor (even with a new battery, mine flaked out on the bike leg)
Don’t line up too late for the swim (or you’ll be squeezing through the gates to get to your time zone)
Don’t use the wetsuit strippers (they took way longer than had I done myself)
Don’t stop on the run - just keep going and set small, incremental milestone goals along the way!
Don’t look at your watch when you cross the finish line, instead smile for the cameras and take it all in
Don’t forget to plan on where to meet your family/friends after the finish
Don’t stay at the finish line area too long without enough clothes (you can get hypothermia)
Way to go Carsten! Congrats and thanks for the tips for us beginners.