August 1, 2025
Athletics have shaped who I am since high school, and this past Sunday reminded me just how much.
When I moved to New York in my early 30s, the triathlon scene became a cornerstone of my life. As a former competitive swimmer and runner, and with a surprising new knack for cycling, I qualified for nationals on my first Olympic-distance race and went on to complete a full Ironman a couple years later. More than the achievements, the community I found through the sport became an anchor in a new city.
Then came a diagnosis that explained the chronic foot pain I'd been pushing through. A post-Ironman surgery didn’t help, and I had to walk away from triathlon—an incredibly difficult goodbye. I pivoted to bike racing for a while, and over time built a new rhythm in life with other passions and people. Thankfully, some of those triathlon friendships endured.
Last summer, a few of those friends decided to come out of retirement for the Maine Half Ironman in July 2025. When they invited me to join, I couldn’t resist. I hadn’t run a long distance in 16 years and wasn’t sure how I’d finish 13 miles, but I signed up for the experience and the reunion.
Run training was going ok in the initial weeks—then a calf injury popped up and proceeded to get worse closer to race day. Running for even five minutes became impossible. I showed up knowing I might have to drop out after the bike leg... but ready to soak up the time with friends and crush the hilly bike course I’d trained hard for.
The race started with a misstep on the first leg, the swim: trying out a new wetsuit for the first time. I couldn’t breathe properly and had to unzip mid-course to get through it. Thankfully, I found my rhythm on the bike and flew through the ride.
Then came the run. I had an idea on the bike that I’d jog as slowly as possible without walking to keep the injury at bay. Miraculously, this worked and the miles ticked by. Seeing friends on the course who shouted “You’re still running!” was surreal—and motivating. By mile 10, other muscles started protesting what was by far my longest run in 16 years, and I mixed in short walks. But there was no way I was stopping. I even managed to run the final stretch across the finish line.
When I saw my finish time, I was shocked—it was solid for a half Ironman. Smart decisions about pacing the run and of course, a strong bike leg paid off.
That evening over dinner with friends, I reflected: I’ve never been the strongest athlete, but I’ve always relied on grit, discipline, and strategy. In moments of doubt—at work, or in the face of life's unpredictabilities (this year being a strong test case!)—I need to channel those same qualities more deliberately. And I plan to ride the energy of this moment for a while.
Huge thanks to those who supported me. I may be officially retired from endurance triathlons, but this was a far more fulfilling finish than 2009 ever gave me.
