My First Half Ironman

Participating in my first Ironman 70.3 was one of the most intense, emotional, and transformative experiences of my life. Before getting into triathlon, I had been swimming for about a year, so the discipline where I felt most comfortable was swimming. Cycling and running were completely new learnings. Over that year, I took part in small swimming events and short triathlons, mainly to get used to the competitive environment in the water — lots of people, physical contact, and chaos. That helped build my confidence for the big day.

If you’ve never witnessed an Ironman race, I highly recommend it. Even for those who aren’t into sports, the atmosphere is overwhelming. There are thousands of athletes, supporters, and families — an energy that’s hard to describe. The start in Cascais takes place in the bay at sunrise, and it’s magical. I woke up at four in the morning, had a hearty breakfast, checked all my gear, and by half past five, I was already on my way. I went through the Transition Area, dropped off my bags, and headed to the sand, where my family, friends, and several training partners were waiting. I did the race with my husband, which made it even more special. Standing there on the sand, I felt that this day was the culmination of months of effort, discipline, sacrifices, and small victories.

Throughout my entire preparation, it was essential to stay connected to Swim4Fun and the people from the club. On the day before the race, I met with coach Bibiana and went into the sea at the same time as the official start. We swam smoothly and calmly, under the light of that sunrise. I tested the wetsuit, the cap, the goggles—everything. And that made me feel calm the next day. I knew it was possible.

But no one truly prepares you for the big day. When I reached the sand, I saw my family and friends — there were hugs, tears, and good-luck wishes. With my husband, I went to warm up in the sea, just as my coach had always emphasized. It was dark, the water was cold, and my heart was racing. We went back to where our family was and listened to the national anthem, all embraced. Pure emotion. Then I moved to the start box that matched my estimated swim time. The music started playing, the applause began, and suddenly, I was in the water.

The first few meters are always the most chaotic — so many people, arms, legs, and fast breathing. I just focused on finding my rhythm and not wasting unnecessary energy. I breathed to the right and could see the Ironman mast in the distance. I thought, “this is what I trained for.” I started finding space, keeping up with the pace of those ahead of me, taking in the small bumps and pushes without overreacting. Then, among thousands of athletes, I found my husband’s feet. It was a special, wordless moment. We shared a smile and kept going. Sometimes, just recognizing someone in the water is enough to give you new strength.

When I saw the first orange buoys, I knew I was on the last part of the lap. I stayed focused, stroke by stroke, until I spotted the exit ramp. The staff helped us up; I quickly took off my wetsuit, passed through the fresh-water showers — which felt amazing — and hydrated. I looked at my watch: thirty-five minutes, exactly as planned. An excellent start.

On the bike, it took me a few minutes to stabilize my heart rate, but I quickly found my rhythm. I rode a calm, focused, and consistent race, enjoying every kilometer. During the run, I kept a steady pace, stopped at every aid station to drink water and isotonic, and on the last lap — Coca-Cola, the sacred fuel of triathletes. Step by step, calmly, I completed the course.

The Half Ironman was more than just a race. It was the celebration of a journey — months of training, discipline, setbacks, growth, perseverance, and new friendships. The race itself is the cherry on top. What truly transforms you is everything that happens along the way. And I recommend this experience to anyone with the curiosity and courage to try, because in the end, what you discover about yourself is worth every stroke, every pedal, and every step.

Carolina Durão