How to succeed in an Ironman or 70.3: my advice after several long-distance races

Succeeding in an Ironman or 70.3 isn't just about having strong legs.

That's probably one of the most important things I've learned from experience.

I started triathlon as an amateur, without much experience, on an M format in La Baule in 2015. At the time, I was still discovering the sport, transitions, equipment, race management, nutrition, and everything that makes the difference between "finishing" and truly succeeding in your race.

Since then, I've had the opportunity to complete several long distances: 5 x 70.3 / L formats and 1 full Ironman, leading up to the Sables d'Olonne Ironman in 2025.

I don't claim to have the perfect method. These are my tips, my mistakes, my learnings, and my personal experience.

But if I had to summarize what I've learned in one sentence, it would be this:

You don't succeed in an Ironman or 70.3 with training alone. You succeed with a strategy.

Nutrition, weather conditions, equipment, small details, mental management: everything counts.

1. Nutrition: the 4th discipline

We often talk about the three disciplines of triathlon: swimming, cycling, running.

But for a 70.3 or Ironman, there's a fourth: nutrition.

And it can cause as much damage as a bad bike split or poorly managed run.

In my first long-distance races, my biggest mistake was not eating enough. Not necessarily because I hadn't planned anything, but because as the race went on, you get tired of it.

Gels become sickening.
Bars become difficult to swallow.
Fatigue suppresses the desire to eat.
You skip an aid station, telling yourself "it'll be fine."
Then a second.
And little by little, the bonk arrives.

This is a very common mistake.

The problem is that when energy starts to run low, it's often too late to truly catch up.

Over time, I've completely changed my approach to nutrition.

Before, I used to go for something very classic: muesli/yogurt for breakfast, gels, sports bars.

Today, before a big race, I prefer to eat a proper small meal that keeps me fueled better: potatoes, ham, bread. It's personal, but for me, it has clearly changed my energy during the race.

During the effort, I still use gels and bars, but I mainly try to vary more:

• gels;

• bars;

• ham and cheese sandwich;

• Babybel;

• carbohydrate drink;

• sodium capsules.

Sodium has also been a real game-changer for me, especially in limiting heatstroke and maintaining performance better on the run.

I realized that for such long efforts, you shouldn't necessarily think the same way as for a short race where everything has to be "perfectly sporty."

I once did a round trip from Saint-Nazaire to London, using the ferry to connect the countries, eating pretty much anything (McDonald's, pastries, candy...). And yet, it went very well.

Why? Because during a very long effort, the body burns a lot of calories and energy. At some point, you just need to keep fueling the machine.

Of course, you have to test it beforehand. You can't just eat anything on race day without knowing how your body will react.

But you need to understand one thing: for long distances, the best nutrition isn't necessarily the "cleanest" on paper. It's the one you can eat, digest, and repeat for several hours.

My advice is simple:

Test your nutrition as early as possible. Less than a month before the race, in my opinion, is already too late.

And most importantly: never test new nutrition on race day.

2. Knowing how to run, cycle, and manage in all conditions

An Ironman or 70.3 rarely takes place in ideal conditions.

It can be hot.
It can rain.
It can be windy.
The road can be wet.
The sun can be intense.
The body can react differently than expected.

The condition that has trapped me the most, personally, is heat.

Above about 28°C (82°F), I feel that my performance can really change. And in races like Vichy or Diaoulman, the heat played a huge role.

At Diaoulman, for example, I underestimated the heat factor because the race was in May. I started a bit too strong on the bike to "see if I could get away with it." At the time, it seemed fine.

But on the run, I hit a massive wall.

The last few kilometers were very difficult.

This is the kind of mistake you can make even with experience. And it's a good reminder: the heat doesn't need to be extreme to become a race factor.

It also took me a long time to understand that caps and glasses weren't just style accessories.

Today, a cap is mandatory for me in a race. It really helps me limit heatstroke. Glasses have also become important, even for a half-marathon, because visual fatigue can play a role in a race.

For rain or wet roads, it's the same: you need to have already ridden in those conditions.

You don't ride the same way on dry roads as on wet roads.

You need to adapt:

• braking;

• trajectories;

• speed in turns;

• caution on descents;

• re-accelerations.

My advice: don't always look for perfect conditions in training.

Training in the heat, with wind, or sometimes riding on wet roads can be very useful. Not all the time, not just any way, but enough so that you don't experience these sensations for the first time on race day.

An Ironman or 70.3 isn't won against the weather.

It's achieved by knowing how to adapt.

3. Equipment plays an important role

We often hear that equipment isn't everything.

That's true.

But in long-distance racing, equipment can still play a huge role.

Not necessarily because it makes you stronger, but because it helps you conserve energy.

And in a 70.3 or Ironman, conserved energy is sometimes more important than gained speed.

For me, the biggest equipment lever is the bike.

It's the part where you spend the most time. A good position, aero bars, and good wheels can really make a difference.

Aero bars are highly recommended in my opinion for a 70.3 or Ironman. They're not mandatory to finish, but they allow you to be more efficient if you know how to use them correctly.

Deep-section wheels can also provide a real gain. It's not necessarily the absolute priority for beginners, but when you're looking to progress, I find it an interesting lever.

For my full Ironman, I had a high-end triathlon bike, fully optimized. Without going into details, it's clearly the kind of equipment that helps save energy when you spend so much time on the bike.

But be careful: equipment doesn't replace feel.

A bike computer, power meter, watch, or heart rate monitor can be very useful. But on race day, feel is always more important than watts or numbers.

If your legs say no, if the heat is rising, if your stomach can't keep up, the data shouldn't push you to ignore what your body is telling you.

There are also small equipment details that matter a lot.

For example: forgetting to grease your chain. It sounds silly, but over a long distance, this kind of negligence can cost unnecessary energy.

Another example: socks.

I'm definitely team "mandatory dry socks." One pair for the bike, a new pair for the run. Over long distances, foot comfort can become a real issue.

And in a hot race: a cap and sunglasses, again, are not minor details.

Equipment is not mandatory for success.

But well-chosen, well-tested, and well-prepared, it's an undeniable lever for progress.

4. Small tips that save time and energy

In an Ironman or a 70.3, there are the big obvious things: training, eating, drinking, managing your pace.

And then there are all the small details.

The ones that don't seem like much individually, but that end up making a real difference.

The first thing for me: the checklist.

Before a long distance race, I pack my gear with a checklist. It's not very original, but it's essential.

Because the goal isn't just to forget nothing.

The goal is to arrive calm.

When everything is prepared, checked, anticipated, you conserve mental energy for the race.

I've already broken my swim cap while putting it on. Yes, really.

Since then, I prefer to start with two caps on my head or at least plan to avoid being held back by a stupid detail.

On the bike, the small gains are mostly in management:

• anticipating the terrain;

• avoiding big, unnecessary accelerations;

• not going too high in watts;

• staying aero when possible;

• not latching onto a competitor who's going too fast;

• accepting to let someone go.

It's sometimes frustrating, but it's often what allows you to run better afterward.

On the run, I've also learned to accept one thing: walking isn't necessarily a sign of weakness.

Walking for a few seconds at an aid station can save the race.

I'd rather lose 10 seconds at an aid station, drink properly, pour water over myself, breathe a little, then restart, rather than trying to run everything at all costs and blowing up later.

Drinking systematically is also important. You shouldn't wait until you're thirsty to start worrying about it.

And mentally, in the last kilometers, a simple trick can help: find a competitor who is running at about your pace and switch off your brain; this is exactly what I did on the way back of my last IRONMAN loop, with my mental state in my boots, I spent the last 5 KM watching a participant's feet in front of me, imitating their stride.

You follow.
You move forward.
You stop negotiating with yourself every meter.

Over long distances, small details are never really small.

They save time, energy, and mental effort.

5. The real key: effort management and mental strength

For me, succeeding in an Ironman or a 70.3 is first and foremost about management.

The most classic mistake is to give everything on the bike.

Or more broadly: wanting to do too well too early.

In almost all long-distance races, there comes a point where you have to accept slowing down to finish properly.

And that's not a sign of poor training.

It's not necessarily a sign of weakness.

It's sometimes simply a sign that you are giving it your all.

Personally, I participate for that reason too. To find that limit.

A race where you arrive fresh, with the feeling that you could have done another lap, is perhaps a race where you could have done better.

But there's a difference between giving your all intelligently and blowing up because you mismanaged your effort.

On a full Ironman, what surprised me most was how much the body is a machine. Well-trained, well-fueled, well-prepared, the body is capable of going very far.

Ultimately, it's often the mental aspect that becomes the limiting factor.

And I continue to work on my mental game. I still have weaknesses in that area.

But there's a phrase that often accompanies me:

Pain is temporary, quitting is forever.

Obviously, you shouldn't confuse normal effort pain with a real injury or danger. But in difficult moments, this phrase can help put things into perspective.

In an Ironman or a 70.3, you have to accept that not everything will be smooth sailing.

There will almost always be a tough moment.

A moment when the pace drops.
A moment when you doubt.
A moment when you wish you were already at the finish line.
A moment when you simply have to keep going.

That's when management becomes more important than ego.

And that's also why I think an Ironman can sometimes be mentally easier to manage than a 70.3. In an Ironman, you more readily accept the idea of a long day, of patience, of management. In a 70.3, you often want to go fast everywhere, and that's what can make the race very tricky.

I will surely detail this topic in another article.

What a long-distance medal truly represents

When you cross the finish line of an Ironman or a 70.3, the medal doesn't just reward the end of the race.

It summarizes an entire strategy.

It tells the story of preparation, mistakes, adjustments, nutrition, moments of doubt, weather conditions, mental strength, sacrifices, and all the decisions made over several hours.

A long-distance medal doesn't just reward a finish.

It summarizes a complete story.

That's why I think it's important not to let it disappear into a drawer or closet. At FinisherDisplay, the idea is precisely to give these memories a real place, without overdoing it, but by respecting what they represent.

Conclusion: success means knowing how to manage

Succeeding in your Ironman or 70.3 isn't just about being trained.

It's knowing how to eat.
Knowing how to drink.
Knowing how to adapt to the weather.
Knowing how to use your equipment.
Knowing how to conserve your energy.
Knowing when to slow down.
Knowing how to keep going when your mind starts negotiating.

Legs matter, of course.

But over long distances, the details matter just as much.

Nutrition, heat, equipment, aid stations, bike management, mental strength: it all adds up.

And it's often this accumulation of good choices that allows you to succeed in your race.

Not just to finish it.

But to live it to the fullest.