Kona Playbook — Full

Mile 80: the second race starts

Feels like: seventy-plus miles in your legs, the afternoon heat off the lava and more than an hour of highway left. One racer described this stretch as very tough on the mind: hot, windy, and still about 90 minutes from T2.

We coach: what you do here decides whether you run Aliʻi or walk the Queen K. Caffeine goes in now so it's working when the marathon starts. Sit back into your position and let the wind decide the speed.

Angela: By mile 80 I've stopped thinking about anyone else in the race. I take my caffeine, sit back into my position, and run through the check: am I eating, am I cooling, am I at my effort? Then I tell myself the second race starts now. This is where so many people start to fade, and it's where I've always felt strongest, because I rode the first 80 with patience. Be strong.

Move: caffeine in, settle in, hold the effort, not the speed.

Queen K home (about miles 80 to 105)

Feels like: the sea breeze builds from the side. Many years it feels like a headwind both ways. Full sun and hot lava.

We coach: this is where your fuel plan pays off or falls apart. Stay on the timer even when you don't feel like eating. Cool at every aid station.

Move: fuel on the timer, cool at every aid.

The airport (about mile 105, 6 to 7 miles to T2)

Feels like: town suddenly feels close. It isn't. If the wind is out of the southwest, the last miles are into it.

Angela: keep the pressure on. So many people fade here because they think they're close. Be aware: it's a long six miles. A little more pressure, not a lot. You still have a marathon.

Move: a little more, not a lot.

Into town and T2 (miles 106 to 112)

Feels like: turns, crowds and noise all at once after hours of empty highway.

We coach: your only job on the bike is to make the marathon runnable. Spin the last few minutes, take a final drink, and think about your first mile of the run.

Move: spin, drink, arrive ready to run.

The run: 26.2 miles, 1,009 ft of climbing

The big picture: two runs in one marathon. Miles 0 to 10 are loud, shaded and full of people. After Palani, the Queen K and the Energy Lab are quiet, exposed and hot.

T2

We coach: sunscreen again, fresh socks if you want them, and a cap you can fill with ice. Walk out of the tent calm. The first mile sets up the next 25.

Aliʻi Drive (miles 0 to 10, turnaround around mile 5)

Feels like: shade, crowds, adrenaline. It feels easy, which is exactly the trap.

We coach: the crowd lies to your legs. Run the first miles at RPE 5 to 6, easier than you want, and let the pace be slow. Start ice and water at the very first aid station.

Angela: it's hard to hold back when you see the crowds. That's exactly why you do.

Move: slower than feels right.

Palani (around mile 10)

Feels like: short, steep and loud. Plenty of strong runners walk it.

We coach: know it's steep before you get there. Nobody wins Kona on Palani, but plenty of people lose it there.

Angela: a power walk is completely OK. If you run it, keep it at RPE 5 to 6 out of 10.

Move: power walk, or run at RPE 5 to 6.

Queen K north (about miles 10 to 15.5)

Feels like: the cheering stops the moment you turn onto the highway. Long straight road, full sun, and a gentle uphill grade that never seems to end. One racer described the whistling wind, heavy breathing and squelching wet shoes as the only sounds out there.

We coach: cool at every station, not just when you feel hot. Ice in your kit, sponges on your neck, water over your head. Walk the aid stations if that's what it takes to get it all in.

Move: ice, sponge, sip, every aid.

The Energy Lab (about miles 15.5 to 19.5, personal needs at the bottom)

Feels like: you turn in on a slight downhill, often into a headwind. After about a mile it flattens, the breeze dies and the heat climbs. The road back up to the Queen K is gentle on paper and hurts in real life. You're close enough to the ocean to smell it, and you can't jump in.

We coach: from here, RPE is the boss. Numbers are a model. Your body is the reality. If someone is running your pace, run with them.

Angela: chunks got me through. To the turn, to personal needs, to the exit. And there's no wind coming out of it, so be ready.

Move: one chunk at a time.

The last 10K (Queen K home to Aliʻi)

Feels like: for most people, the longest 10K of their life. Then you crest the top of Palani, drop back into the noise, and racers describe a grin they couldn't wipe off all the way down Aliʻi.

We coach: patience earned this. Now it's the courage part. If you've got something left, this is where you spend it.

Angela: crossing that line was the best feeling I've ever had racing. Take your time on Aliʻi. Look around. You earned every step.

Move: race, if you've earned it. Then soak it in.

My Kona fuel plan

My plan, built with the RaceFuelPlanner rules for a 120-lb athlete sweating 1 L an hour on the bike and 1.5 L an hour on the run, using Neversecond C30 gels and the on-course Precision 1000 drink. Don't copy my numbers. Build your own in RaceFuelPlanner.

How Kona heat changes a plan

• Carbs never drop. Heat raises demand while your gut gets fussier. Train the gut; don't cut the target.
• Fluid and sodium go up, about 15% more fluid and 20% more sodium than your measured sweat rate.
• Caffeine comes down 25% in the heat, and never more than 200 mg in any hour.
• Don't over-drink. Pee at least once per leg. If you stop peeing, ease off for 30 minutes and drink.

The heat: how to stay cool in Kona

More Kona races are lost to heat than to fitness. Most of the athletes walking the Queen K at mile 18 weren't undertrained. They simply let their core temperature creep up for five or six hours, and by the time they felt it, there was no bringing it back. The good news is that cooling is a skill, and it's one you can plan and practise just like your fueling.

Why Kona heat is different

It isn't only the temperature. By late morning in last year's race it was about 82°F with 72% humidity and full sun, and the black lava on both sides of the Queen K throws heat back up at you all afternoon. Humidity is the real problem. Your body cools itself by evaporating sweat, and in humid air that sweat evaporates slowly, so instead of cooling you it just leaves you hot and sticky. Meanwhile your heart is sending more blood to your skin to shed heat, which leaves less for your working muscles. Your heart rate drifts up at the same effort, you burn through carbohydrate faster, and your stomach gets less blood, which is exactly why so many people stop being able to eat in the second half of the bike.

That's why the whole idea of cooling in Kona is to help your body do what the air won't. Water you pour on yourself evaporates in the wind as you ride, and that evaporation pulls heat out of you far better than your own sweat can on a humid day.

Rule one: cool before you're hot

Your core temperature takes a long time to climb and a long time to come back down. If you wait until you feel overheated, you're already behind, and you'll spend the rest of the day paying it back. So we start cooling at the very first aid station on the bike and the very first on the run, even when it feels unnecessary. It should feel a little like overkill in the first hour. That's how you know you're doing it right.

Cooling starts before the gun, too. On race morning, stay in the shade as long as you can, sip cold drinks in the last 30 minutes, and if you have a cooler, a cold wet towel on the back of your neck while you wait is a simple way to start the day a fraction cooler.

On the bike: how to use every aid station

Slow down going in. Ease off as you approach, sit up and ride with one hand steady on the bars. A clean grab at 16 mph beats a fumbled one at 22. The few seconds you give up here come back many times over on the run.

Keep one cage just for cooling. Take a cold water bottle at every aid station specifically to pour on yourself, separate from the bottle you drink. Cooling water and drinking water are two different jobs, and if you try to make one bottle do both, you'll always be short of one.

Pour where it counts. Squeeze it over the top of your helmet so it runs through the vents onto your head, then the back of your neck, down the front of your suit and over your forearms and thighs. The neck and forearms matter because large blood vessels run close to the skin there, so cooling them cools the blood heading back to your core. As soon as you're back up to speed, the wind turns that wet suit into an air conditioner.

Lean forward as you pour. Tip your head and chest slightly forward so the water runs off the front of you rather than down your legs into your shoes. Soaked socks for five hours is a recipe for blisters on the run.

Only water goes on your skin. Pour sports drink on yourself and you'll be sticky and gritty by Hawi.

Wear cooling arm sleeves. Light-coloured cooling sleeves protect your arms from the sun and stay wet when you soak them at an aid station, so they keep cooling you for miles afterwards.

Think about personal needs at Hawi. A frozen bottle, wrapped well, can still be cold when you reach it around mile 60. Test the wrapping in training; bags sit in the sun for hours.

Don't skip one because you feel fine. Feeling fine is exactly when cooling works best. Every aid station, every time.

The helmet question

A closed aero helmet is faster in the wind tunnel, but it's also hotter. In a controlled study in 39°C heat, riders' head temperature was higher in a non-vented aero helmet than in a vented racing helmet from the first few minutes onward. Core temperature and power were the same in that study, but the rides were under an hour, not five to seven hours through the hottest part of a Kona day.

Aero savings also grow with speed. On the long climb to Hawi and into a Queen K headwind, you might be riding 14 to 17 mph, where an aero helmet saves you very little and traps the most heat. And a helmet that gets so hot you keep sitting up to cool off isn't aero anymore.

Our recommendation for most age groupers: race in a well-ventilated aero helmet, either a vented TT helmet or an aero road helmet, not a fully closed shell. Choose white or silver over black. Pour water into the vents at every aid station. If you're a strong rider who will genuinely hold a low position the whole ride and you've tested your aero helmet on long rides in real heat, it can be the right call. If you haven't tested it in heat, don't let race day be the test.

Angela: I always tested my race helmet in real heat before Kona, never for the first time on race morning. If you're an age grouper who'll be out there through the hottest part of the day, I'd choose a vented aero helmet in white over a closed shell every time.

On the run: ice is your best friend

Walk the aid stations if you need to. At race pace you grab half a cup, spill most of it and miss the ice completely. Slowing to a walk for 15 to 20 seconds lets you actually do the job: two cups down, ice in the suit, water over the head. You'll lose seconds and gain minutes.

Wear a cap, not a visor. A cap holds ice and a wet sponge against your head. Fill it at every aid station.

Put ice everywhere it will stay. Down the front and back of your suit, in your shorts, and a handful in each hand to melt as you run. Sponges go on the back of your neck and your forearms.

Chew some ice. Crunching a little ice and swallowing it cools you from the inside.

Adjust your pace to the day. On a hot Kona afternoon, the right effort will produce a slower pace, and that's fine. Going out at your usual pace and hoping to hold on is how people end up in the medical tent.

Angela: My routine was the same at every single aid station, whether I felt hot or not: water over my head, ice down the front of my suit, ice in my hat, a sponge on the back of my neck, and a cup to drink. If I needed a few walking steps to get it all in, I took them.

Know the warning signs

If you find yourself overheating, the fix is always the same: slow down, even to a walk, get fluids in, and cool yourself as hard as you can until you start to feel better. A few minutes of walking and cooling can save your race. Pushing through it can end it.

Gear for wind and heat

Aero only counts if you can stay in position. On the Hawi descent, the rider relaxed on a shallower wheel beats the rider white-knuckling a deep one.

• Shallower front, deeper rear. A deep front wheel catches the crosswind and steers you. Run your deeper rim on the back. In a recent pro race, at least half the top-10 women rode a 50 mm front wheel or shallower.
• Lighter rider? Go shallower. The lighter you and your bike are, the more a gust moves you. Match wheel depth to your weight, not to what the pros ride.
• No disc (historically). Rear discs haven't been allowed in Kona. Check the 2026 rules.
• Sleeves or not. Sleeved suits are faster and block the sun, but can run hotter. Test your race kit in the heat before you fly.
• Sunscreen is race gear. Hours of full sun off black lava. Reapply in T2.
• Test everything on the island. Ride your race setup toward Hawi in the afternoon wind during race week, then make the final call.

Angela: I'm 120 lb, and on a windy Kona day I'd much rather be on a shallower front wheel and stay in aero than fight a deep one all the way down from Hawi. For a lighter age grouper, that's my advice too: a front wheel around 50 mm or shallower, your deeper wheel on the back, a light-coloured vented aero helmet, and a suit you've already tested in the heat.

When it goes wrong

Something will. The athletes who finish well in Kona aren't the ones who have no problems. They're the ones who fix them fastest.

Angela: In 2015 I raced on a broken foot without knowing it, and my day ended before the run. Sometimes stopping is the right call, and that's OK. Get pain checked before race week, not after. But most of the time on race day, the low passes if you give it 15 minutes and fix the basics.

The Kona race card

Screenshot this. Read nothing else on race morning.

After the finish

The first hour. Keep walking for 10 to 15 minutes after you cross. Sitting down straight away can make your blood pressure crash. Sip fluids with electrolytes and eat something small and familiar within 30 minutes. If you feel dizzy, confused or can't stop shivering, go straight to the medical tent.

The first night. Shower gently, eat when your appetite comes back, and skip the celebratory drinks for now. Alcohol gets in the way of everything your body needs to do over the next 48 hours.

Go back for the midnight finish. If you have anything left, come back to the finish line in the last hour before the cut-off. The final finishers come down Aliʻi under the lights to the loudest crowd of the day. After the day you've just had, you'll understand every one of those athletes.

The next few days. Walk, swim easy in the bay, eat well and sleep. On the flight home, drink plenty, wear compression socks, and get up to walk the aisle. Give yourself at least a week before any real training.

Angela: Take a minute somewhere quiet in the days after, and write down three things: what went right, what you'd change, and the moment you're proudest of. Those notes are gold for your next race.

For your family and friends

Send this part to whoever is coming to cheer.

Where to watch. The seawall at the pier for the swim start, but go early, because it fills five to ten people deep before sunrise. In town, Palani and Kuakini are great for the first bike loop, and Hot Corner is loud all day. The run goes out and back along Aliʻi Drive for the first 10 miles, so you can see your athlete twice without moving far. Then everyone heads to the finish on Aliʻi.

How to track. Download the official IRONMAN Tracker app before race day and add your athlete's bib number. A missing split doesn't mean something's wrong.

Getting around. Roads close early and parking near the pier disappears fast. Plan to walk, and bring water, a hat and sunscreen.

What not to do. Don't hand your athlete anything or run beside them for long. Outside assistance can get them penalised. Tell them what they need to hear: "You look strong" beats "you're 12 minutes behind" every time.

Angela: The best thing my crew ever did was stay calm. If they look worried, you'll feel it. If they smile, you'll smile back, even at mile 20.

Three weeks out? Let's build your race

Your fitness is set. What's still wide open is how you race it: your pacing on each section, your fuel and caffeine timing, your cooling plan, and whether that front wheel is the right call for your weight.

Kona race-plan consult with Angela, $99. We go through your race section by section: effort targets for every part of the course, your fuel and fluid plan in the heat, when your caffeine goes in, how you'll cool at every aid station, and the wheels and helmet you're riding. You leave with a written race plan that's yours.

Book your Kona consult

Two free tools to use before then: build your own Kona fuel plan in RaceFuelPlanner, and see how the heat changes your pacing with our Heat and Humidity Calculator. Questions? Send me a note through the contact form. I read them myself.

After Kona. When you're ready to think about next season, whether that's getting back here or chasing something new, we'd love to help. Our coaching options are on the coaching page. No rush. Race first.