Forward, Never Straight
On Racing Broken, Healing Slow, and Following Curiosity
When I returned from Hawaii last fall, I got another MRI to see how much damage I caused on race day. Because I did the Ironman World Championship on a broken pelvis, I expected my partial stress fracture to convert to a full one; however, to my pleasant surprise, and my doctors’, the break had completely healed. I even got a CT scan to confirm. Same result.
When did it happen? How did it heal so fast? I will never know.
This winter, spring, and even the beginning of this summer have been about learning to trust my body again. I remember going for my first walk without crutches in late November, a month after Kona, and feeling like a newborn fawn taking its wobbly first steps.
After months of non-weight-bearing on my right side, I had overcompensated with my left and forgotten what it was like to walk normally. Relearning how to distribute my weight didn’t come easily. It took weeks to move without a limp—not because I was in pain, but because my brain was still trying to protect me.
It’s been eight months since I raced on the Big Island, and while the stress fracture is healed, I’m still dealing with stubborn soft tissue pain. In March, I began a ten-level return to run program and only last week did I complete it and join my buddies for an easy hour continuous run.
This is not a cry for help or sympathy. It’s a recognition that we must live with the consequences of our decisions. When I learned about the stress fracture three weeks before Kona, my doctors, as well as wise friends and mentors, advised me not to race.
Yet with it being my first Ironman World Champs, my first Kona—a race I had dreamed about for eight years—and potentially the last Kona, I mulishly rejected their opinions.
I told myself and others I didn’t care if I couldn’t race in 2025 if I was still dealing with the injury. While I intellectually accepted that, I was perhaps overconfident, unrealistically optimistic in my recovery timeline, and unprepared to play out that reality.
While challenging, injury can be a gift. I learned this after being hit by a car while riding my bike, training for my first triathlon, in June 2019. While I suffered multiple bodily injuries, including a concussion that put me out of work for months, I struggled more mentally and emotionally.
Injuries are hard on anyone, never mind competitive athletes, whose lives and identities revolve around sport. I’m not Michael Phelps or Jordan, but that summer six years ago was devastating. I sank into depression, threw myself a pity party, and played the victim card.
Yet as I made strides in physical and cognitive behavioral therapy, my perspective shifted. The accident went from being the worst thing that ever happened to me to the best thing that ever happened for me.
Every setback is an opportunity—to recalibrate your compass, focus on other pursuits, address your weaknesses and imbalances, and lean into your curiosity.
The idleness forced me to go inward. It stripped me to my core, showed me who my darkest-hour friends are, and led me to Colorado.
This recent injury too, called me to the mountains. Taking a much-needed mental and physical break after world champs, my girlfriend
and I spent the winter climbing 14,000 ft peaks. Postholing. Crampons. Ice axes. Twelve-hour days in hypothermic temperatures. The whole nine yards.While we’re both experienced endurance athletes, neither of us were mountaineers. But with each outing, successful summit, and failed attempt, we learned and grew more comfortable in the high alpine. It opened up a whole new world for us to explore.
Since last summer, we’ve been dreaming about taking on the legendary Nolan's 14—a 100-mile route that travels from Leadville to Salida, climbing fourteen 14,000 ft mountains in Colorado’s Sawatch Range in one foot-powered push in less than 60 hours.
It’s my 2025 Misogi. Misogi is a Japanese Shinto practice of cold-water immersion, believed to purify the soul and spiritually prepare for the year ahead. In the modern Western context, it’s a yearly commitment to doing something uniquely difficult—a challenge to craft a truly year-defining, life-changing experience. Your chances of successful completion should be about 50-50.
While we originally wanted to go after the mixed gender fastest known time (FKT) of 2d 5h 14m set during the pandemic by the legendary Andrew Hamilton, who holds the Colorado Fourteeners FKT, and his partner Andrea, we’ve pivoted.
There’s a difference between being fit and being healthy, as my close friend and aspiring IFBB Pro Jason has reminded me. Because my body’s still not where I want it to be, we’re going to backpack the route over four days instead.
While it’s not exactly what we set out to do, it takes the pressure off and still allows us to enjoy playing in the mountains. In addition, it allows us to do some necessary route recon and collect beta for a future speed record attempt.
My friend
wrote a beautiful piece last week titled The End of the Beginning, which deeply resonated with me. He and I got into triathlon together, when we were both living in Philly, trapped in corporate jobs we loathed, knowing there was a more fulfilling life out there.Now, as we’ve both qualified for Ironman World Champs, it feels like we've both accomplished pretty much everything we set out to achieve in the sport. While there’s satisfaction in that, there’s also loss and uncertainty.
Sharing these thoughts at my men’s group retreat in Austin in December, my buddy Scottie reassured me. “Buddy, it’s okay if you never do another triathlon again in your life.”
The goalposts should move, at least after you’ve acknowledged how far you’ve come. Men’s coach
reminds me that “Your current purpose informs your future purpose.” It’s okay to pivot. It’s a signal of growth, and that’s something to be celebrated.That’s not to say I’ll never race another Ironman. I plan on toeing the line in California or Arizona this fall with the hope of punching my ticket back to Kona in 2026. I have unfinished business on the Big Island.
I’d also like to earn my pro card in triathlon within the next few years. While being a professional would be a great selling point for my coaching business, it’s more so that it would be confirmation, dare I say validation, that I’m one of the best in the world in my chosen discipline. Pursuing mastery is something all of us desire, no?
And while my older training partners may scoff at my 29-year-old youth, it feels that the window of being a professional athlete is closing. I can’t do it at 50. And I like to live using a regret minimization framework. Will I regret not going for it when I’m on my deathbed?
“It doesn’t make sense to continue wanting something if you’re not willing to do what it takes to get it. If you don’t want to live the lifestyle, then release yourself from the desire. To crave the result but not the process is to guarantee disappointment.”
- James Clear
The past few months, I’ve pushed myself training with stronger athletes and had fun along the way. If it’s not fun, especially as an amateur, what’s the point? Even at the highest levels, enjoyment is a key part to sustainable success. In the wise words of Ironman World Champ Chelsea Sodaro, “Take the work seriously, not yourself.”
The longer I’m in the endurance world, the more desire I have to create self-curated adventures, like my friend Robbie Balenger, who ran across America in 75 days, set the record for the most loops around Central Park in a day, and outlasted a Tesla’s battery in the Texas Hill Country.
Most impressive, in my eyes, of Robbie’s feats is what he called the Colorado Crush—an effort compiled of multiple bucket-list worthy endeavors including the Leadville Trail Marathon, traversing the Colorado Trail, the Leadville Silver Rush 50 Run, summiting all 58 Colorado 14ers, and the Leadville Trail 100 Run. 1,200 miles and over 300,000 feet of elevation gain in 63 days.
I write this excited and scared to take on Nolan’s—a demanding and potentially life-changing adventure—but optimistic and eager to see what’s on the other side and what’s next.
What are you curious about? Why not follow it?
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For me, as I look back at the age of 67, it was consistently showing up at Mr. Shine’s mailbox at 0530, to do the Valley Forge loop. It was the miles and the hills - but more importantly our talks of wives, kids, and faith. I know I’m better now for that…
We tie our identities to the work or activity we do. Everybody deals with identity foreclosure & sunk cost fallacy in some walk of life. Not taking ourself too seriously is what matters as we are a tiny blip in this timeline of earth's timeline.