Race report: White Lake 2025 — my first pro race, 9th place, and a masterclass in what not to do with salt

White Lake, North Carolina, May 2025. My first race as a professional triathlete. I finished 9th in the pro field in 4:20, and I left with more lessons than I could fit in a single debrief. Some of them were tactical. Some of them were about salt. A lot of them were about salt.

The 48 hours before: damage control

Two nights before the race I was up in the middle of the night with some stomach issues. I still don't know exactly what caused it, possibly some water I swallowed in training, possibly something I ate. What I do know is that it knocked my pre-race nutrition sideways. I couldn't eat as much as I wanted and I was too nervous to touch my electrolyte drink after spending the night throwing it back up.

Race morning I kept it simple: about two thirds of a cup of uncooked rice, cooked, with maple syrup. It sat fine. I was a little nervous, but honestly this was the calmest I've felt before a race. I hit all my warmups, they felt good, transition setup went smoothly, and I made the call to go with non-polarized goggles. Happy with that one.

The swim: smart adjustments, execution gaps

I started hard, which was the right call, but I immediately ran into a problem I need to solve: the shallow water sections. I got gapped by the front group and a solo guy early because I haven't figured out how to move efficiently through water that's too shallow to swim but too deep to run. More dolphin diving practice, or a real technical solution, needs to go on the training list before the next race.

The first full lap I just swam hard and tried to close the gap. Came out of the water for the Australian exit and made a mistake the same way I did on the way in, losing more time in the shallows. But the re-entry into the second loop was actually one of my better moments. I was deliberate about getting my heart rate back under control, did a few strokes of easy backstroke to reset, and then settled into a controlled 7 out of 10 effort. The front group wasn't coming back, so I stopped wasting energy pretending they were. The second group caught me about halfway through the second loop and I swam with them until roughly 400 metres to go, then put in a surge to get some separation going into T1. Overall I'd call it 6 out of 10 on execution, but 9 out of 10 on in-race adjustments. I'm learning.

T1: still a work in progress

Mounting the new bike is still awkward. It didn't cost me anything meaningful in terms of time, but it wasn't clean and it needs practice. No excuses, just reps.

The bike: the best 90 minutes and the worst 30

The conditions were tough. Ten mile per hour winds out of the south, sunny, 72 degrees with a dew point of 65. Not brutal, but not nothing either, especially over 56 miles.

The power meter wasn't connecting at the start, so I rode the opening stretch on feel, keeping my heart rate controlled around 170 and just finding my legs. When the power meter finally came online I was sitting around 280 watts, which felt right. I spotted a guy up the road and started working toward him, but he was small and offering no draft benefit so I was slowly bleeding time into that chase.

Then Ben Deal came through and changed the race. I latched onto his wheel immediately and he brought back not just the guy in front of me but the next rider too, plus a fifth athlete in tow. Suddenly we were a group of five and I was feeling better than I had envisioned I would. I remember thinking at the time that this was the best I had ever felt in a race. The numbers backed it up. I took in almost my full 80 grams of carbs in that first lap alone, which in hindsight was the right call even if it felt aggressive. I took a few turns at the front, keeping my surges around 300 watts without going over the edge.

Then, at about 35 miles, I made the mistake that defined the rest of my day. I went to the front and stayed there for roughly ten miles. Not smart, not fast, not necessary. My power dropped to 260–270 watts and I was hurting into the wind with nothing to show for it. My glutes started cramping, which had never happened to me before. The reason became obvious later: I had barely any salt in my bottles. A few dashes. Not close to enough for conditions like these.

By mile 48, Ben Deal was gone. I tried to use the other rider to chase but he couldn't bring me back, and slowly the gap became insurmountable. I sat up for the last six or seven miles because the pain in my glutes was genuinely severe and without any salt coming in, it wasn't going anywhere. Somehow I put together a 2:10:30 split, 270 average watts, 280 normalized, at 25.7 mph. I'll take it. But the last 20 miles should not have gone the way they did.

T2: barely functional

I have no idea how I executed a flying dismount because by that point I could barely stand. The first step out of transition was one of the more painful things I've experienced in a race. My glutes were locked up and my legs weren't straightening without cramping. I sat down, which is not something I normally do, because I genuinely didn't know how else to get my shoes on without the whole thing seizing. Socks, shoes, headband, race belt, all going on as I was moving. I was out in 5th place overall. Not bad, all things considered.

The run: the honest version

Conditions had ticked up slightly, 75 to 78 degrees, still 65 dew point, still ten miles per hour of wind, still sunny. I went out easy at 6:50 hoping the glutes would shake themselves loose. They didn't. Mile two was 7:15 and from there I was just managing the situation.

My stomach was sore, I was cramping across most of my lower body, and the heat wasn't helping. I hit a gel at mile four and kept it down, which was something. Around mile three I tried to latch onto a group that had come past me but they were moving too well and I let them go rather than blow up completely. By mile six and a half I was really suffering. I walked every aid station and tried to get water and Gatorade in, but the Gatorade on course was so watered down it barely registered as electrolytes. So the salt hole I'd dug on the bike just kept getting deeper.

At mile seven my diaphragm started spasming and I had to undo my heart rate strap to breathe properly, so the 153 average heart rate the data shows is probably closer to 160 in reality. I ran most of the back half because I refused to stop, not because I felt good. Somewhere in the last mile I found something, partly because I genuinely wanted to finish, and partly because I was not going to let my training partner catch me. Final run: 1:43 at 7:51 pace. It felt like four hours.

I'd give the run a 2 out of 10 on performance. It was rough. But I finished, and I kept moving the whole way, and that counts for something on a day when quitting would have been a very easy decision to make.

What I'm taking away

The bike fitness is real. Sitting in a pro group and feeling good at 280 normalized watts over a 56-mile course is not nothing. The on-the-fly decisions in the swim were smart. The mental resilience on the run, even when the body was falling apart, is something I can build on.

But the actionables from this race are clear and I'm not going to dress them up. Salt: 1000 to 1200 milligrams per hour, measured, not guessed, not a few dashes in a bottle. This needs to be a non-negotiable at every race after it. Riding at the front for ten miles into a headwind when you have nothing to gain from it is not racing, it's just suffering for no reason. And the swim entry and exit in shallow water is a technical problem that needs a technical solution before the next race.

First pro race. 9th place. 4:20. A lot to fix and a lot to like.

Onwards.

Kael Penny is a professional triathlete and coach. Tossed & Trained works with athletes at every level, from first-timers to Ironman finishers.