The Real Face of Ironman Training

Nobody posts the ugly parts of training. The highlight reels are all finish lines and medals. So let me tell you what Ironman training actually looks like.

It looks like being terrified of a bicycle at 55 years old.

Earlier this year I was falling off my tri bike. Just... falling. The fear lived in my body every time I clipped in. Where that fear comes from is a story for another post — and it's a big one.

Then came the firsts. My first solo ride on the tri bike. My first brick workout. A personal triathlon in the Texas heat — 600 meters swimming, 50 miles riding, a 10K run — just me against me. On September 5th I rode 70 miles and felt good on the bike for the first time. I called it my miracle ride, because that's what it felt like.

And then, two weeks later, I sat in my car after a 3-hour ride and cried.

It was supposed to be five and a half.

I was sick with a cold. I'd crashed on that very ride and busted my elbow. My leg hurt. I'd been working 13, 14-hour days at the business. I looked into my phone and said I was this close to quitting. No inspirational ending. No “but I pushed through.” Just the truth: some days this dream feels impossible.

Here's what I've learned: the bad days aren't the opposite of the journey. They are the journey. Every person you see crossing a finish line has a version of that parking lot moment. The difference isn't that they never wanted to quit. It's that they came back the next day.

My next day is October 3rd — my first official triathlon, Olympic distance at Lake Pleasant. Then Cozumel. Then Tokyo in 2027 for my dad, and London for a cause close to my heart that I'll tell you about soon.

Every mile has a purpose. Even the ugly ones. Especially the ugly ones.

If you want to be part of this — book a cleaning, make a donation, pick the cause your support goes to — you're not just helping me cross a finish line. You're in the parking lot with me on the hard days, too. And that means everything.