Melbourne 70.3 Race Report 2025
The plan for Melbourne 70.3 was simple: go all in and chase a sub-4-hour finish.
But that all changed when I broke my collarbone just a couple of weeks before the World Championships in Wollongong. In an instant, the entire season flipped upside down.
I appealed to Ironman for a transfer, but the answer was a flat no. So, I had two choices — sit in frustration, or get to work. I chose the latter. Rehab became my mission. I pushed hard, probably too hard at times, but I managed to bank two solid weeks of training before race week. I wasn’t in peak shape — not even close — but I believed it would be enough to chase a new goal: qualifying for the World Championships in Nice.
Pre-Race
I arrived in Melbourne the day before the race to horrendous weather — torrential rain, freezing wind, and news that the swim was cancelled.
Normally that would be a disappointment, but for me, it was a blessing in disguise. My swim had only just come back after regaining full mobility days earlier, and the idea of diving into rough, crowded water with a still-healing shoulder made me uneasy. No swim meant no risk, and I could focus entirely on what I could control.
Race morning arrived cold and wet. The wind was still howling, and rain came and went. I went for a short run to warm up — it felt strange prepping for a triathlon without a swim — and made a few last-minute calls: drop tire pressure by 5 psi, wear a base layer, arm warmers, and gloves. It was going to be a grind.
Bike Leg
With a rolling start and no T1, the race began fast. I was near the front thanks to my rack position, and as I settled in, I saw a group forming up ahead. I gave myself five minutes to close the gap — either I’d make it, or I’d ride my own race. Two minutes at 320W later, I was on.
The crosswinds were brutal. Despite the group forming, there was almost no drafting benefit — I was still pushing 300W+ just to hang on. I yo-yo’d off the back, then moved up, watching as others got dropped one by one. I knew I was overbiking, but honestly? It was fun to be racing again.
The wind was tossing us across the road. I clipped a cone at one point — a lapse in concentration — and reminded myself to stay sharp. By halfway, things were splitting apart, gaps opening, and my legs were starting to scream. My quads were cooked. I wanted to dig again, but the power just wasn’t there.
I hit the turnaround 40 seconds behind the leaders and alone. I got caught by someone from RPG, which briefly sparked some motivation, but my fitness wasn’t deep enough to hold the surge. The roads never truly dried; every time they did, another squall rolled through.
By the final stretch, I was thinking about survival — and the run. My quads were on the verge of cramping, so I reached for the emergency stash in my bento box and prayed the easier spin back would revive them. I rolled into T2 with a 2:17:28 bike split — solid given the chaos.
Transition 2
I slipped on the wet carpet as I entered transition, and almost went down. My legs seized trying to put on my shoes. Three attempts later, I got them on and set out for the run. T2 time: 1:49.
Run Leg
The first few hundred metres were ugly. My quads were screaming, and I doubted if I could even finish. But step by step, they loosened (after ~3km). I saw my family — their cheers lifted me — and I heard the words, “You’re in third!”
Third. Podium position. Four and a half minutes down on first. Big gap, but not impossible – I’d closed larger deficits before.
I settled into a steady rhythm, hovering around 3:45/km. My legs felt heavy, my cadence lower than usual, but I was moving. I spotted the leader on the out-and-back — about four minutes ahead — and told myself to stay patient. I wasn’t going to fade.
Lap two came around, and I noticed the guy in second was fading fast. I didn’t chase recklessly — I just kept pressing, letting the race come to me. At the far turnaround, the gap to first was down to around 3.5 minutes. I started doing the math: unless the leader cracked, I wouldn’t catch him, but I could still make myself proud by continuing to give my best.
With 5 km to go, I planned to surge — but it wasn’t until 4 km that I had the courage to go. I pushed, but my legs didn’t respond. They were done. Still, I was fighting for every second, chasing the sub-80-minute run split I’d set as my personal benchmark.
The final kilometre was pure grit. I focused on a runner ahead, closed the gap, and turned toward the finish chute. The crowd, the noise, the relief — it all hit me at once. I stopped caring about time or place; I was just grateful.
Grateful to be there, to have finished, to still be part of this sport after the year I’d had.
I crossed the line 2min52sec behind the leader, Peter, who led from start to finish. My run split — 1:19:48 — was hugely satisfying, as it was under 80 minutes.
Reflections
Five weeks and six days earlier, I was lying in a hospital bed after surgery, wondering if my season was over. Wollongong Worlds gone. Melbourne doubtful. The road back felt impossible.
And yet — here I was. A top finish, a world championship slot, and a reminder that recovery isn’t just physical. It’s about showing up when everything feels uncertain, and finding joy in the process of trying.
My collarbone still isn’t fully healed, and the road to full strength continues. But Melbourne 70.3 was the perfect way to close out the 2025 season — a reminder that even when plans fall apart, purpose doesn’t have to.
Copyright © Luke Jones
One Comment
Anonymous
Wow, Luke. That’s inspiring writing! One day you could compile your reports into a memoir!
Thanking God for your perseverance in the face of adversity. And that you competed without mishap!