Building Endurance
My first triathlon was a local sprint distance race that my friends invited me to participate in. We trained together for a few months and raced it out on race day. At the time, it felt like we were competing in the Olympics — and I was absolutely hooked.
I kept training, finding new pace, and experimenting with techniques that would absolutely get me injured. But the work paid off. I was rewarded with PRs and even a podium at the next few races.
After my second 70.3, there was only one place left to go: the 140.6.
So the time came to drop some cash and register for my home race — Ironman Texas. I had this old book I found at a discount bookstore years ago, (it had gotten me this far) so I flipped to the full-distance training plan and started highlighting each completed week as the months went by.
For six months, I followed it religiously. No skipped sessions, respected the recovery days, and dialed in my technique across all three sports. I just knew that if I had a good enough race day, and left it all out on the course, I had a shot at going sub-10.
That thought — the possibility — is what got me through the tough weeks, the final reps, and those last few minutes of grueling sessions. April 26th rolled around, and it was time to put myself — and six months of hard training — to the test in The Woodlands, Texas.
Race Day in The Woodlands, Texas
My alarm went off at 3:30 AM — not that I really slept much. Race jitters got me. It was my first full Ironman, and I knew I’d be out there all day. Anything could happen.
But the first task was breakfast. That’s always easier to think about. For me it's four eggs, buttered toast, a banana, and a cup of coffee. Next I filled up my bottles with carb mix, packed my nutrition, grabbed a quick shower. Lastly I threw on my Squadron tri suit, chafe cream, some sunscreen, and I was ready to go.
The transition zone was still dark when I got there. I slipped my bottles onto the bike, pumped my tires to 60 psi, and made one last stop at the porta-potty.
There's a huge crowd of spectators on the way to the starting line, the energy was high. All the contestants were lined up, everyone in a swim cap, but no wet suits allowed. I moved up to the front as the cannon went off, the smoke was in the air, and the first group of swimmers took off. In those last few moments, I pressed my goggles in, took a deep breath, and as soon as I heard my bell, I ran into the water.
The Swim — Warm, Murky, and Heavy Contact
Lake Woodlands was warm, dark, and murky. The swim was intense — full contact, elbows, arms and legs everywhere. Sighting lines took focus and extra breaths. With visibility so low, you always found the other swimmers VERY up close. Most times, contact would quickly create space, and I did my best not to get tangled up with the exception of a few tussles for position at the turn buoys.
The course itself was enormous. A long down-and-back stretch of the lake, followed by a wide turn that funneled into a narrow channel. That final stretch into the channel was perfection. Crowds lined both sides, people watching from the walkways above. It felt like swimming into a stadium — loud, echoing, surreal. Chef’s kiss.
I was nearing the end and completely gassed, pulling with everything I had. My family had spotted me, so I emptied the tank, reached the exit ladder, and pulled myself out. Big gasp for air.
A 1:14:43 swim — not too bad! Into T1 and time to crank out the bike.
The Bike — Speed, Wind, and Strategy
If there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s crushing a bike leg. I had my drinks, my gels, and 112 miles ahead of me.
To my surprise, the first 20 miles flew by — I was averaging 23 mph and feeling smooth. But once I left the city and hit the highway, things changed. It was a massive, closed-off stretch of road… and completely exposed. The headwind was brutal.
I pulled out a caffeinated gel, tucked as tight as I could, and stayed just under that threshold — pushing hard but not burning out my legs. This wind was going to take some work. But I knew the moment it flipped, I’d get paid back in full.
And when it did? Time to go. Full tailwind, smooth pavement, 26 mph on the return. I fueled every 30 minutes and stayed on top of hydration. Once my own drinks ran out, I stashed my bottles and started grabbing from the course. To my surprise — cold bottles, perfectly mixed carbs, and they fit right into the cages. Clutch.
Temps were rising, so I dumped a bottle of water down the back of my suit to keep cool. It worked — the breeze across the wet fabric made a difference.
The second loop into the headwind was even worse. My legs were feeling every one of the 60 miles so far. This was the decision point — back off and save something for the run, or go all-in, build a cushion, and hang on later. I chose to go all-in.
The final tailwind stretch was electric. I was nearly out of fluids and fully tapped on fuel, but I flew into the city, legs on the edge, and brought the bike home in 5:06:04 — way ahead of target.
The Run — Heat, Focus, and Pushing Limits
Three laps. 26.2 miles. An incredible course lined with beautiful views and high-energy crowds — all against rising temps and cramps waiting to pounce at any wrong step.
Getting off the bike and into the run was a test in itself. My pace was high, but my quads felt like they were being squeezed in a vice. I kept running through it, trying to take in fluids and stay calm. I took a salt pill and hoped for the best.
A few miles in, my legs settled. I was in business. Holding a 7:30 average through mile 15, I was feeding off the crowd’s energy, giving high-fives, interacting with volunteers — just vibing and knocking out miles.
Every 30 minutes I took a gel. Every mile, a drink. And any chance I got, ice in the hat, ice down the suit — a total game changer for keeping cool.
But of course, momentum like that doesn’t go unchallenged.
By mile 20, the pain crept in. My body was ready to be done. I was negotiating with my body now — “Can you hold a 7:40? No? Okay, how about 7:50? But nothing slower or we’ll lose the lead.” (I was talking to myself)
One final pass by my family gave me the boost I needed for the last 3 miles.
My fueling plan had been nearly perfect — until I realized some gels must’ve fallen out. I was empty. I grabbed one off the course and hoped it wouldn’t wreck my stomach. It did... a little. But it was better than nothing.
I fought through the final turn, with a beautiful finish line in sight. And somehow, I brought the run home in 3:25:17.
Final Time: 9:55:38
This was the mental battle of a lifetime. The highs and lows of the race, the easy miles and the brutal ones. The enormous relief of the finish line — hearing “You are an Ironman” as you finally come to a stop.
You get your medal, and it’s a special one — the first of its kind.
When I finally joined back up with my family, they let me know I went sub-10 and placed 8th in my age group. I couldn’t believe it.
After the Race — Emotions and Recovery
Ten hours of gels and carb mix drinks, combined with max effort — it catches up to you. It’s a full-body beatdown. Your nervous system flips into survival mode to get through the race, and when it’s all over, you can feel your body trying to regulate itself back to normal.
As I walked around gathering my race gear, the nausea finally caught up with me. I had to quickly move somewhere out of sight to empty the little I had left in my stomach — not much there, just bright yellow stomach acid.
I walked it off and took a seat, the exhaustion and emotions had me tearing up! So much sacrifice went into this goal, so much effort that day, the pain I was feeling, the scale of what I had just accomplished had hit me.
World Championship Bound
I was unsure about attending the awards ceremony. I wasn’t even sure I’d get an allocation to the championship, but I kept thinking about how this might be the one and only time this ever happens, so I went!
When it came to my age group, I received an allocation, picked up my World Championship qualifier certificate, and registered to compete at the World Championship.
Nice, France. A new goal. A new season.
Watch the Experience
To watch the full race day check out the video recap on our YouTube channel Qualifying for The Ironman World Championship At Ironman Texas - 2025
Take On The Challenge
I poured years into this hobby, this commitment, this journey. Not knowing what the outcome would be — just steadily exploring it.
I never thought it would take me this far.
If you have a feeling that you’ve got more in you — chase it. You might be surprised by what you’re truly capable of.