99T九十九里トライアスロン2024 レースレポート：5時間切りへの挑戦

Last year’s Kujukuri Triathlon was my first ever middle-distance race, and it immediately became one of those events I knew I wanted to return to. It is close to home, the course suits me, and the atmosphere has something special. Even though my first experience there was positive, I came away knowing I still had unfinished business. There were too many things I wanted to improve not to sign up again.  

My preparation took a serious hit in the final week. Just days before the race, I got sick again—this time with COVID. The high fever completely knocked me out, and for several days training was out of the question. I tried to regain some rhythm before Sunday, but it quickly became obvious that I would not be arriving anywhere close to peak form. That changed the expectations, but not the motivation to race hard.  

The forecast already promised a demanding day: rain, strengthening wind, and the aftermath of an extremely stormy day before the event. We left at 4:30 in the morning and reached the parking area as planned. From there, it was still about 5 kilometers to registration. As the nerves started building, I focused on staying calm and fueling properly with carbs and electrolytes. Registration went smoothly, and after setting up my transition area and chatting with my senpai, it was time to make the long 1-kilometer walk to the swim start.  

Before the gun went off, I also met two familiar athletes from earlier races. That brief conversation helped settle the nerves. Once the start approached, the tension disappeared and full focus took over.  

For the first time, I started in the front wave. That alone made the race feel different. The water delivered an immediate surprise: on my second step in, the ground suddenly disappeared beneath me. After that, it was straight into the chaos. We had a right turn around a buoy about 50 meters out, then a long out-and-back section of nearly 1 kilometer. Arms and legs were everywhere, and it took full concentration to stay composed and competitive.  

I initially tried to sit on the feet of someone who looked strong, but around 100 meters in he suddenly slowed down. When I lifted my head to sight, the lead group was already about 20 meters ahead. That was the moment I lost the chance to stay connected to them. From there, the swim turned into a more isolated effort. I managed to overtake two athletes who had also dropped off the front, but I could not close the gap to the leaders.  

The swim ended up being a bit longer than expected. I came out of the water with my heart rate high, ran up the stairs, unzipped the wetsuit, grabbed a gel, and started the long run toward transition. T1 went exactly how you want it to go: smooth, quick, and without drama. A few moments later, I was out on the bike.  

The bike began well. Mount, accelerate, settle in. Getting my feet properly into the shoes cost me a few seconds, but after that I was quickly riding at around 200 watts and trying to carry speed out of transition. Still, something felt slightly off compared to training. About eight minutes in, I realized why: I had forgotten to put on my visor. Not a disaster, but not ideal either.  

For roughly the first 40 minutes, everything felt under control. Only a few riders got past me, and when I reached the turnaround I counted 15 athletes ahead. At that point I felt strong. Then my left glute started to hurt sharply, and from there the ride changed.  

I kept fueling consistently and still managed to hold good speed, topping out at 46 km/h. Even with the glute pain getting worse, I stayed focused and kept the power solid. The first lap felt smooth and measured. The second lap became more technical because the course was now crowded with Olympic-distance athletes, which meant more overtaking and more decisions. Still, I handled it well, and only a handful of athletes passed me on that second lap.  

Toward the end of the bike, I started to fade a little, but when I rolled back into transition and saw how few bikes were left, I knew it had still been a strong leg.  

T2 started with a mistake. I grabbed all my gels and stuffed them into one side of my race belt pocket. It turned out to be far too heavy and bounced badly from the first steps. While trying to fix it on the move, I managed to rip off my race number. That forced me to stop and reattach it—an annoying moment, but in a strange way also a helpful one. The stop made me realize I had gone out too hard.  

Once I settled down, I found a rhythm at around 5:00 per kilometer and checked in with my body. At first, I was relieved. The glute pain did not feel as bad as I had feared during the bike. But that relief did not last. As the run progressed, the left glute tightened up again, and now my left quad started hurting too. By halfway, I was physically exhausted. Mentally, though, I was still completely in the race. I kept moving forward even as the pace began to slip.  

With around 3 kilometers to go, the pain became brutal. My mind started offering all the usual excuses—walk a bit, ease off, give in. But I refused to let that happen. I stopped only at aid stations to take in as much water as I could. Then the finish line finally came into view. Relief hit first, then one final push. Somehow I found enough energy to sprint the last 300 meters.  

This race was far from perfect, but it still marked real progress. Compared to last year, many parts of the day were better. I crossed the line in 5:03:17, finished 16th overall, and took 3rd place in my age group—my best result so far. And even before the emotion of the finish had fully settled, one clear goal was already in my mind for next year’s 99T: