How to Support an IRONMAN [The Beginner Sherpa's Guide]

This guide is for the person who is preparing to be the #1 onsite support crew for an athlete doing a full-distance IRONMAN triathlon. 

When I met my now-husband three years ago, he was eight Ironman races into a goal of 12 (which qualifies him as a "legacy" athlete to race at the IRONMAN World Championships at Kona, HI at a yet-to-be-revealed future date). He has more than once apologized to me for inheriting the ambitious, time-consuming goal he took on when he was a bachelor.

Chuck prepares for his races more studiously than most, and that intensity influences not only how he spends his non-work time, but also his social life, diet, and entertainment (i.e., YouTube) selections. 

When I traveled with him to his ninth race in Boulder, CO in 2019 for my first race-support experience, I absorbed that intensity, combined it with my own stress-of-the-unknown plus self-imposed unrealistic expectations, and I whipped myself into a hot mess.

Three years and four full-distance IRONMAN races later, I still find the races stressful (I've listened to enough horror stories shared over team dinners that I'II never not be anxious for my husband’s safety), but I’ve figured out a routine that works, and I feel more at ease. 

I share this with you hoping it will make your own first experience easier than mine.

Before the race.

• Download the IRONMAN Tracker app and start familiarizing yourself with the course map. Note where you’re staying in relation to the start/finish/transition areas, parking areas, etc.

• Ask your athlete for an estimate of when they’ll finish the swim. Unlike the other disciplines, it’s very rare to have a mid-swim timing mat that cues you, so you’ll want to know when to find a good spot to see them exit the swim. 

• Sit down with them, look at the map in the Tracker app, and find some course interception points where you can walk and see them pass on the marathon. There are usually a few within reasonable walking distance. I rack up a lot of steps during this part of the day while I chase Chuck from point to point. 

For example, this is the IRONMAN Chattanooga marathon course.

The area I’ve circled is where I spent most of the marathon. I was able to see Chuck pass several times as he completed the two loops of the course, and it was a reasonable walk back to the finish line after he passed the final time.

Before athletes got on buses to head to the swim start, before dawn, lit by the warm glow of an ambulance’s tail lights.

Race day. 

• The day starts early. Like 4:00 a.m. early. Every athlete handles race morning—and its nerves/excitement—differently. I remind myself that this day is 99% not about me. I try to help where I can but also just give him space to be in his own head. 

• I like to stay with him as long as I can before he gets in line for the swim start so I can delay my goodbye.

• When he’s passed me after exiting the swim, I like to run (literally, often) to Bike Out to see him start that leg of the race. 

• After he heads out on the bike, I’m usually on my own for 6-ish hours. Most courses I’ve spectated with Chuck haven’t given me a good chance to see him on the bike again because we don’t want to give up our prime parking spot near the finish line for me to drive out to see him speed by. (Sounds odd, but he wants to walk as little as possible when his race is done. So parking spots are a key part of our pre-race location scouting.) 

• Go find a good restaurant, get some breakfast, and try to relax a bit. 

• I’ve tried to nap when I’ve had the chance (see again: early mornings), but my brain is too keyed up to sleep. Relaxing and getting off your feet is a must, though. Take it easy for a while.

• Time for lunch. Don’t skip it. 

• I then go to Bike In to see him arrive safely, and I run over to Run Out to see him start the run. 

• The run part of the race is when your day becomes more busy. Most marathon courses have allowed me multiple interception points since I can walk to them, so I spend the time moving from one to the next. 

• Wherever you see your athlete on your last interception point, be sure to give yourself time to get to the finish line to see them come in. I like finding a fence spot before the finish but as close as I can get. (I cut it too close once in Madison, WI when I chose to see him pass one last time before heading to the finish line. If it hadn’t been for the city electric bike I’d rented, I wouldn’t have made it.)

• When he crosses the finish line, I head to where he’ll exit the chute after he gets his medal and photo so I can get a sweaty, gross smooch. (I generally avoid hugs at this point, ha!)

After the race.

• The stress of worrying about his health and safety comes off my shoulders at this point. My job then becomes helping him get some food and water/beer, sitting by while he rehashes the race with his teammates, and trying to shuttle him to the car at a decent hour to rest. 

• I don’t try to ask for too many details myself at this point; it’s generally not productive until the adrenaline has worn off and he’s processed it a bit the next day. 

• Finally, it’s time for everyone to get off their feet and rest. You may not have done the race itself, but it’s been a big day for you, too. 

• We’re often traveling home the following day, usually via road trip. I drive most or all of the way so he can rest more in the car. 

Gear and tech.

• Pack a backpack for the day, and don’t make it too heavy. 

  • Water

  • Snacks

  • A hat, sunglasses, and sunblock

  • A towel to sit on

  • Portable phone charger + cable

  • Book

  • Toilet paper

  • Hand sanitizer

  • Optional: flashlight/headlamp

• Wear your most comfortable sneakers plus stretchy clothes and layers. I'm usually at the swim start with him—before sunrise—and we're out well after dark. Be prepared for every temperature of the day.

• Download the IRONMAN Tracker app (it’s worth mentioning again), and put your athlete's name in to follow. Enable push notifications, because it will ping you every time they cross a timing mat. It will also show you where they are on a map. You'll be watching it all day, so this is where the phone charger becomes so important.

I’ve talked to many of Chuck’s teammates who’ve spectated a friend’s race and compared it with their own experience as the racing athlete: every one, without exception, says they’d rather be the one racing because spectating is so hard.

I think they’re exaggerating—and let’s be honest, these are people who voluntarily choose to swim 2.4 miles, bike 112, and run 26.2 in a single day, so their judgment isn’t calibrated the same—but I won’t lie that it’s a hard day. I logged an average of 22,000 steps on each of Chuck’s last two race days.

Your athlete has worked for months to make it to this day. You’ve seen how hard they’ve worked. You want them to succeed, be safe, and feel good (well, as good as can be expected) through the day. It weighs on you. 

Give yourself the grace to feel your own feelings related to it while you support their needs. 

And of course, treat yourself when it’s all over, too.