Geelong 70.3 Race Report 2026
Friday night, my wife and I flew down to Melbourne, keeping things simple with a stay near the airport. Early Saturday, we grabbed a rental car and made our way to Geelong—though not without a few delays—eventually arriving around midday.
From there, it was a bit of a rush. Building the bike didn’t go smoothly, with some frustrating chain alignment issues eating into the afternoon. By the time I finally got out for a pre-race spin, it was close to 2pm—and surprisingly hot. The rest of the day disappeared quickly: food, course recon, registration, bike check-in. Before I knew it, it was dinner time and race morning was only hours away.
Pre-Race
Race day started calmly. With the sun rising later, a 5am wake-up felt relatively manageable. I made my way to transition about an hour before the start, feeling relaxed. Seeing my wife just before the swim was a welcome moment of calm in an otherwise tense lead-up. After a short warm-up, I lined up early to secure a spot near the front.
Swim Leg
Just after 7:45am, we were off.
A couple of dolphin dives and I’d already bridged up to the wave ahead, settling onto some feet. It felt controlled—not overly hard—but within a few hundred metres, something shifted. A wave of panic crept in. My senses felt heightened, everything irritated me, and despite knowing logically I was fine, another voice was telling me to stop.
I backed off, switched to breaststroke for a few strokes, and thankfully reset. From there, I got going again.
Conditions were good, but the swim itself was messy—constant contact, disrupted rhythm, and no real chance to settle. It felt like I always had someone beside me, on my feet, or swimming over the top. Eventually, I exited the water with a few final dolphin dives, clocking 27:40.
Transition 1
Running into T1, I was surprised to get passed—something that almost never happens to me. That didn’t last long, and I soon moved back ahead, focused on keeping things smooth. I ran further past the mount line to avoid the chaos before getting on the bike. Time: 2:38.
Bike Leg
The mount was a little clunky. I had one foot in, but the other shoe had twisted sideways due to the elastics, leaving it almost perpendicular to the ground. It took longer than I’d like to sort out, but eventually I was rolling and heading up the first climb.
I wasn’t watching power closely, but it felt like it was coming easily early. As I crested the hill, I spotted my wife through the fog in the gardens—yes, the start of the bike was incredibly foggy—which lifted the mood.
But once out onto the highway, things started to feel off.
Within 10 minutes, my quads were already tight and sore—like I’d been riding for hours. It was early to be feeling that kind of fatigue, and it planted a bit of doubt.
A small group formed, which helped settle things, but I still wasn’t comfortable. Around 15km in, I saw Thales come past with another strong rider. I was sitting second wheel at the time, but the rider ahead didn’t respond. I made the call to go around and try to close the gap, knowing how valuable it could be to latch onto that group.
But I just didn’t have the legs.
I could only manage around 270W, and it felt far harder than it should have. The gap slowly stretched, and all I could do was watch them ride away. I kept pushing forward, still making ground on others ahead, but when we hit the climb, I hoped my power-to-weight might bring me back into it. Instead, I had nothing. Riders ahead pulled further away, and those behind started coming past me.
Over the top and down the other side, I gradually clawed my way back to a group just before the turnaround. I took a turn on the front, trying to contribute—but instantly regretted it. My legs were starting to hurt properly now.
The wind was picking up slightly—not strong, but it always seemed to feel like a headwind. By the end of lap one, I made a conscious decision: sit in, manage the effort, and get to the run without cramping.
Lap two became a grind. I had company, but I was yo-yoing off the back, fighting to stay connected without blowing up. The second time up the hill wasn’t quite as bad, and with a bit of effort, I managed to get back on.
As we turned back toward town, the group started to splinter. I held on with one rider for a while, but on the descent, I lost contact. Around this time, I had a strong urge to pee—but couldn’t. Another small frustration adding to the day.
With nothing left to give, I focused on staying aero and getting through the final 10–15km. In that stretch alone, I lost around 3.5 minutes to the group I’d been riding with.
Eventually, I rolled into T2—thankful more than anything that I’d avoided cramping. Bike split: 2:18:00.
Transition 2
Straight into T2 and one thing on my mind: pee.
Helmet off, shoes on—just narrowly avoiding a calf cramp—and then finally some relief… although far slower than I would have liked. Not ideal mid-race. Eventually, I got moving. Time: 3:19.
Run Leg
The goal was simple: find a rhythm and don’t force it.
The legs felt fragile, and I didn’t want to push too early and pay for it later. Early on, I found myself running near Mitch Kibby, using him as a reference. He’d pull away on the climbs, but I’d hold ground on the flats and descents.
By the end of lap one, I got an update from my wife—I was sitting 2nd in AG, about two minutes down, but closing.
Game on.
Lap two became a steady grind. No surges, no panic—just consistent movement. The gap came down, and with around 4–5km to go, I made the pass for the lead. From there, it was about staying composed and focused. I’d seen Trent further ahead and so made catching him my next goal. Little carrots to keep myself mentally motivated.
Then, out of nowhere while running—mid-hill—I completely lost control and peed myself. First time for everything I guess! Not exactly planned… but oddly, I felt much better afterwards.
With about 2km to go, I caught Trent. The crowds made it hard to pick out anyone else to chase, so it was just about holding form and getting to the line.
Despite how the bike had felt, I made it through without cramping and down the final hill into the finish chute. Run split: 1:17:28.
Reflections
Swim
Next race I’m going to give myself time for a longer, more thorough warm-up—closer to 15–20 minutes—to properly lift the heart rate and hopefully avoid that early panic.
Bike
I believe a combination of factors were at play:
- Saddle had tilted forward significantly (>15degrees), increasing quad load
- Likely started a bit dehydrated
- Poor early pacing (>400W out of T1 didn’t help)
All fixable—and I’ll get a chance to apply those lessons soon.
Update: A few days later I changed my seat tilt and found it easy to push similar power (as the race) and with no pain. Good takeaway to learn from, double check the bike setup.
Run
Even when the legs feel completely shot, staying relaxed and focusing on form makes a huge difference. Fueling and mental clarity were key to holding things together.
Not a perfect race—but a very valuable one.
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Copyright © Luke Jones
