70.3 Western Sydney Race Report 2026
Crazy Traffic
The night before the race was rough. Sleep didn’t come easily, although that’s hardly unusual before a big race. By 3:30am I was wide awake and staring at the ceiling, so I figured there was no point fighting it.
I was staying with my parents, which meant a 50-minute drive out to the regatta centre. This time the kids were coming too, so it was an early start for everyone — including Indie.
We made good time getting there, but traffic into the venue was chaos. At 5:45am we were still crawling toward the roundabout entrance, barely moving. After sitting still for a few minutes I decided enough was enough, unpacked my bike and rode the final couple of kilometres in while the family stayed in the car queue.
I’ve never seen the race so busy.
Thankfully, once inside transition things ran relatively smoothly. Bike racked, nutrition sorted, tyres checked — the usual routine. I was out of transition by 6:30am. The toilet queues, however, were next level. Even the “secret” toilets had lines. By the time I finally made it through, there was no chance for a warm-up and barely enough time to squeeze into the swim start queue.
Swim Leg
Different Pacing
For once, I approached the swim differently.
Instead of blasting the opening 100–200m and sending myself into oxygen debt, I treated it more like 400m TT effort. Not slow, but a touch more controlled. I honestly don’t know why I hadn’t done this sooner. Too many races in the past had started with an all-out sprint followed immediately by panic and damage control.
This felt much smoother.
I had my watch set to auto-lap every 200m and the splits were comfortably under 1:30/100m pace. I found some good feet early and settled into rhythm. Every now and then I’d lose the draft while navigating around slower swimmers and end up isolated for stretches, waiting for another group to come through so I could latch back on.
At the far turn buoy the group swam quite wide. I gambled on a shorter, straighter line. In theory it was faster. In reality, without the draft, my speed dropped and I lost contact.
Again.
The rest of the swim became a cycle of bridging gaps, finding feet, losing them, then trying to reconnect. To make things more annoying, my wetsuit leash kept wrapping around my shoulder and restricting my stroke. It probably wasn’t slowing me much physically, but mentally it was frustrating.
Eventually I linked up with another swimmer moving slightly slower than me. His draft helped me recover briefly before another faster swimmer came past. I tried to jump across, got tangled in traffic, and suddenly both swimmers were gone.
Back to swimming alone.
At that point all I could do was focus on holding form and staying composed. I finally exited the water relieved more than anything else.
Swim: 29:27
Transition 1
Slightly Flustered
Running toward my bike, I realised I couldn’t find my wetsuit leash to unzip the wetsuit while on the move. Unfortunately my rack position was right near the swim exit too, so I arrived at my bike with the wetsuit still fully on.
Not ideal.
Thankfully it came off pretty easily once I stopped trying to wrestle with it while running. Helmet on, wetsuit off, bike grabbed, and finally out onto the course.
T1: 1:26
Bike Leg
A Test for Nice
With my Worlds slot for Nice already secured, this race was less about qualification and more about learning what I still need to improve before the World Championships.
The plan was to race aggressively and see where the limits really were.
I thought I’d ease in for 5km to let the heart rate settle after the swim, but once we cleared the technical section leaving the regatta centre I immediately started pushing.
Hard.
I went into full PAC-Man mode, rolling through athlete after athlete. Every few kilometres I’d tell myself: just hold this a little longer. A few more minutes. A few more kilometres. Just get to the next section.
And somehow I kept going.
After 30–40 minutes I finally looked behind and, as expected, there was now a long line of athletes sitting on the draft. On a flat course like Western Sydney, sitting in is dramatically easier than pulling turns at the front. I briefly tried sitting in myself, but after a few minutes decided the pace wasn’t high enough and moved back to the front.
Up the road was another group, somewhere around 60–80 seconds ahead. I kept trying to motivate the bunch behind me.
“Let’s go! We can close this!”
Unfortunately there were far more passengers than workers.
By the end of lap one the effort was starting to bite back. My legs were fading and the gap to the group ahead was actually growing. It became pretty obvious that while I could ride aggressively for long stretches, there’s still work to do in managing those efforts more efficiently for Nice.
Sitting second wheel felt manageable.
Sitting fourth or fifth wheel felt like cheating.
Eventually I couldn’t help myself and rolled back through to the front again, dragging the pace up for another long effort. After about 15 minutes I finally sat up, deciding I was done pulling.
Then, naturally, the other main driver in the group rode off the front.
I couldn’t let him ride away, so with help from one other rider we dragged the group back together again.
With 10km left I fully switched focus toward preparing for the run. I also spotted the family cheering on Castlereagh Road before entering back into the regatta centre. Huge boost.
I finished my nutrition, and as soon as we were in the regatta centre, slipped my feet out of my shoes early to get some blood flow back into a slightly numb foot, and started doing the maths.
Sub-4 hours was still alive.
Barely — but alive.
Bike: 2:12:45
Transition 2
More Chaos
As I dismounted, one of my shoes flew clean off the bike.
Perfect.
Not wanting to risk a penalty — and also wanting my shoe back — I doubled back across the dismount line, weaving through riders behind me to retrieve it.
Back at the rack one leg immediately started cramping while I tried to get my run shoes on. Eventually I got moving again.
T2: 1:52
Run Leg
Hanging On
About 300m into the run I dropped one of my bottles.
So once again, I turned around.
Not exactly the smooth start I’d planned.
I also had a stitch and spent the opening kilometres trying to stay controlled while waiting for my body to settle. The goal was ambitious: sub-1:15 for the half marathon, averaging roughly 3:35/km. That would also likely mean sub-4hr overall.
But the opening kilometres were making both goals look shaky.
Around the first turnaround I spotted Christo, who I assumed was the lead athlete in my age group. He looked to be about five minutes ahead.
By 3km the stitch finally eased and I started winding the pace up properly. I ran the course intelligently — pushing harder on the flats and downhills while trying not to overcook the rises.
Every turnaround the gap kept shrinking.
Four minutes.
Three minutes.
Under two minutes with 10km to go.
At that point I became confident I’d catch him. My focus shifted back toward the 1:15 run goal.
To make it happen I needed a huge negative split. Fortunately the final 4–5km of the course are relatively flat, so I started bargaining with myself.
Just hold 3:30s.
It’s basically a hard parkrun.
You can do that.
By around 14km I finally made the pass and moved into the lead. As I went by I yelled something about sub-4 still being possible.
Deep down though, I knew the real battle had become simply hanging on for a PB.
With 5km remaining the wheels were beginning to wobble badly. To make matters worse, my lower back was starting to seize up – I’d strained it earlier in the week playing beach volley ball and even after seeing the physio, it’d only just come good race morning.
I tried to ignore it and my internal dialogue became increasingly desperate:
3:34 split — good, keep pushing.
3:44 split — I feel like I’m stuck in mud, it’s flat why is this so hard? Cadence – swing my arms!
3km to go — only 10 minutes left.
Wait… 10 minutes is 3:20 pace… a touch optimistic?! Ok just push for 10mins and worry about what’s left after that; just keep going.
Then came another 3:45 split and I could feel the sub-4 slipping away in real time.
With 2km to go I caught another athlete, Joshua. We exchanged a few jokes — including me telling him my son was also named Josh and that I was probably old enough to be his dad. Weirdly, that little bit of interaction helped enormously. It snapped me mentally back into the race.
Refocused and with Josh on my heels I set about finishing things off. We agreed it was going to be a sprint finish – lets do this!
But I’d still my PB goal to chase I’m a bit sly and with 800m to go I started to increase pace.
By 400m remaining I was completely redlining but refused to back off. I’d dropped Josh, although later I found out his mate was apparently yelling that there was $1000 on the line if he caught me.
Thankfully, he didn’t.
As I entered the finish chute I saw the clock ticking over. The displayed time was still on the pro race clock, but I quickly realised another milestone was possible.
Could I break 4:01?
Sub-4 was gone.
Sub-1:15 was gone.
But maybe I could still sneak under 4:01.
The clock changed to my actual time:
4:00:56
57
58…
I sprinted as hard as I could.
59…
So close!
I crossed the line in 4:01:03.
But honestly, I couldn’t be disappointed. I’d absolutely emptied the tank, raced aggressively all day, and still walked away with a new course PB — even if it was only by a few seconds.
Run: 1:15:35
Reflections
Even though I came away with a course PB, this race was incredibly valuable because it highlighted exactly what still needs work heading toward Nice.
Swim Positioning Matters
The biggest takeaway from the swim was how costly it is to lose feet — even briefly. Every time I got disconnected from a group, the effort increased noticeably. My pacing approach was much better than previous races, but I still need to improve my ability to navigate traffic and stay attached to faster packs.
The direct line at the far turn was technically shorter, but slight variations are ok, as without the draft it ended up slower overall (as the others only went around 3-4m off course).
Transition Details Count
The wetsuit leash issue in T1 and the dropped shoe in T2 were small mistakes individually, but together they cost time, rhythm and mental energy. At this level, smooth execution matters. I need more repetition under pressure so those little processes become automatic.
Run Starts Matter
The stitch and awkward opening kilometres made the sub-1:15 goal significantly harder than it needed to be. Once I settled, I was moving well, but chasing time after a poor opening few kilometres is mentally and physically draining.
That said, I was proud of how I stayed composed instead of panicking. The generally consistent run showed the performance is there.
I’m Close
Perhaps the biggest takeaway of all is that sub-4 is within reach.
4:01:03 hurts a little, but it’s also motivating. There’s no single massive thing missing — it’s just refining the small details:
- Better decisions in the swim
- Cleaner transitions
- More economical bike execution
- Smoother run pacing
Add those things together and suddenly a minute doesn’t feel like much at all.
Most importantly, I raced hard, committed fully, and found my limit. That’s exactly what this race was supposed to be.
Special thank you to everyone who supported me. Even if I didn’t acknowledge it in the moment, it helps a lot!
Indie our dog even came along. At over 15yrs old and suffering from cancer, it was a huge day out for her – though special to have her around.
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Copyright © Luke Jones
