A Runner's Reality Check
The Unglamorous Truth of Chasing Athletic Dreams
After much internal debate and procrastination, I registered for Ironman Cozumel last week in hopes of earning my spot back in Kona next fall. A secondary goal is to finish top 3 in the amateur field and earn my pro card. A tertiary goal is to break 9 hours on the day and break 3 hours off the bike in the marathon.
Why do I care?
Well, after fracturing my pelvis last fall just three weeks before the Ironman World Champs, I went from trying to finish top 10 in the world to just finishing. I have unfinished business to take care of on the Big Island.
Beyond that, earning my elite status would not only benefit my coaching business, but give me satisfaction knowing I’m pursuing mastery and am one of the best in the world at my chosen discipline.
After winning and setting the course record at the Hoodoo 300 last month, I have my sights set on some ultracycling races in the first half of 2026; however, I don’t want to juggle Ironman training on top of the prep that 500+ mile bike races will demand from me.
As a result, the best option to punch my ticket back to Kona is at a race this fall. To get ready, I needed structure and direction—someone to push me, but just as important, if not more important for driven folks, someone to hold me back. Yes, even coaches need coaches.
So I hired my physical therapist and bike fitter, Evan, who not only raced triathlon professionally, but knows my body and biomechanics. My bike was in good shape post-Hoodoo, but my run and swim needed work.
The first week of my 12-week Cozumel block did not go according to plan. Shoulder pain when swimming. Knee pain when riding, and as silly as it sounds, maybe even from unclipping my pedals. Since then, we’ve kept sessions aerobic.
Last week, I flew back to Pennsylvania to visit my family in the Poconos. Time on two wheels with dad. Paddleboarding with mom. Eating my favorite home-cooked meals—Granny’s potato salad, Molly’s macaroni and ham salad, Ma’s meatloaf and tarragon chicken.
Nearly 17 hours of training across swim, bike, run, and strength. Sleeping and recovering at 1,800’ in the Poconos instead of 5’400 in Boulder did wonders for my respiratory and nervous systems. Just as the other injuries began to subside and momentum began to build, I was met with a different obstacle.
Sunday was supposed to be an easy day—a 30 min conversational run followed by an hour aerobic ride. But a third of a mile into my short run, I rolled my right ankle on a root I always look out for—the only section of my usual route that’s not gravel or road.
I yelled, in pain and frustration, and immediately knew it was different and more serious than the countless times I’ve twisted my ankles in the past.
I walked for a few minutes, testing its strength and durability. No pain, so I continued, or rather started, my run around Lake Naomi. Coming from altitude, I felt strong, cruising at 7:15 min/mi at a 130 heart rate.
Over the next few hours, it became tender. I noticed it going up stairs, spreading my toes, and putting on shoes. My dad and I headed out for a 20 mile ride to enjoy the fall foliage, but by the time we got home, I couldn’t put weight on it. Fuck.
“I used to resent obstacles along the path, thinking, ‘If only that hadn’t happened, life would be so good.’ Then I suddenly realized, life *is* the obstacles. There is no underlying path.”
— Janna Levin
I lay on the couch, feet elevated, yet the pain became so intense it warranted a trip to the ER on crutches. The x-rays fortunately did not show a fracture, but they didn’t reveal the status of the ligaments. Unfortunately, soft tissue injuries can often be worse and take longer to heal than bone.
24 hours later, my range of motion, at least my ankle flexion and dorsiflexion, had improved; however, I’d also been popping ibuprofen and icing—two things I typically don’t do so as not to interrupt my body’s natural inflammatory response—but with only eight weeks until an Ironman, I didn’t have time to waste.
The past few days have been hard. In pain, physically of course, but mentally too. But I’ve been here before. All competitive athletes have. It’s sadly just a part of high-performance sport.
While I feel foolish that it happened in my backyard, on a trail I’ve run hundreds of times, and not on one of the dozen technical 14,000’ peaks I climbed this summer in the Rockies, that mentality doesn’t serve me. It’s a time for grace, not for grit.
It happened. I can’t change it, as much as I’d like to; however, I can control how I respond. And so much of life is determined by how we respond.
In the words of Tony Robbins, “We do not experience life. We experience the life we focus on.” In any moment, what’s wrong is always available. So is what’s right. Wherever focus goes, energy flows.
If I can’t train like a pro right now, I’ll recover like one, doing everything I can to expedite my recovery, return to running, and show up in Cozumel as ready as possible.
It’s funny how you doubt yourself until something bad happens, but would then give anything to go back to your normal, healthy state.
“A healthy man wants a thousand things, a sick man only wants one.”
— Confucius
Attitude check!!!! It is what it is….and then you do what you can.
Crap, crap, crap …, not ur writing- the injury !💗🙏