TriAptitudeCoaching

I am not sure where to begin on this race report — so much happened in the week leading up to this race that final preparations were done in a mental blur and I even considered NOT racing this event. My hometown of Evergreen, Colorado suffered a devastating tragedy on September 10. There was a school shooting at Evergreen High School which resulted with two severely injured students and one who also died. Navigating an experience like this is hard even when it happens from afar but to experience this at my sons' own former high school and in a location as peaceful as Evergreen — well it is devastating.

Although racing was the last thing on my mind, I did feel like it would be mentally beneficial for me to get out of town and experience a new adventure in a spot in Washington State that I had never been before. My training had been hit or miss the past weeks leading into race day, so I was trying to convince myself that it was fine to use this as a training day for the Ironman 70.3 World Championship in Marbella, Spain. That being said, I rarely hold back on a race course so I knew I would give it all I had regardless. As my friend Amanda said heading to the airport, "I don't think you know how to race anything except balls to the walls." That made me laugh. And laughter and fun is what I needed on this trip.

We arrived on Friday afternoon flying from Denver directly to Pasco, Washington. Amanda and I drove straight to Ironman Village for check-in. With All World Athlete status, I had priority check-in and received number #63 — a great location in transition directly in front of Bike Out/Bike In. We attended the Athlete Briefing, caught up with friends, and headed to our Air BnB. Peaceful, relaxing, and exactly what we needed.

Saturday morning we swam the race course on the Columbia River — water temperature 70 degrees, current fast. I finished the swim distance in just over 20 minutes without a wetsuit. After a quick check-out run and bike, we were back at the house relaxing by 11am. Very low key and exactly right leading into race day.

Race morning: 3am wake up, coffee, breakfast, shuttle to transition. The swim was uneventful — easy current, good positioning. I came out of the water in 22:39, #6 F55-59 out of the water, moved to 4th in T1. But the winds had picked up dramatically. Within a few miles on George Washington Way I realized this would not be the bike day I had planned — 25+ mph headwinds on the Columbia River course. The bike course winds through beautiful countryside and vineyards with a few climbs, fun descents, and a very exposed return section. I maintained my power target but the wind cost me speed. I nailed my projected 2:47 bike split and finished #2 in the age group on the bike.

Near the dismount line, a car turned directly into the bike lane in front of three of us. Lots of swerving and screaming. Remarkably, we all made it safely to transition. In T2 I moved quickly — race belt, hat, glasses all going on as I ran out of the chute — and I was pleasantly surprised to find my legs felt strong coming off the bike. I held my race pace for the entire 13.1 miles along the Columbia River, through neighborhoods and the WSU campus. Cool and rainy. Legs strong. Mind focused.

Final Results: 4:58:49 — 2nd AG F55-59, 18th Overall Female, 164th Overall, 2nd Female Age Adjusted.

As the day wound down and the adjusted age group results were finalized, Ironman's new qualification system awarded me the 2nd woman overall for the race — which earned me an automatic qualification to the 2026 70.3 World Championship in Nice, France. What a way to end a race week that began in grief. I am grateful beyond words.

I probably should have written this race report on Monday morning but honestly, I was so excited the night of the race that I barely slept. I've had a few days to process and thought I would share this race with others who might be considering Ironman 70.3 Coeur d'Alene in the future. I had heard fabulous things about both the race and the community here. There is tremendous spectator support and CDA is one of the most spectator-friendly courses I have ever raced.

I was supposed to race the full Ironman here in 2021 as a post-Covid event. Sadly, eight weeks before race day I ruptured my plantar fascia and was sidelined for an entire year. I am grateful I finally made it to CDA this summer.

Leading into the race, the forecast showed a storm system bringing winds, colder temperatures, and rain. I processed this, made my gear preparations — arm warmers, vest, hand warmers, throw-away gloves, mylar — and chose not to dwell on the what-ifs. Greg and I flew to Spokane Thursday night and drove 30 minutes to CDA. I went to bed and slept well.

Friday: rebuilt my bike, easy run to the lake and around transition. The lake had strong winds, waves, and white caps — but the water was a lovely 68 degrees. My Cupcake Cartel teammates and I decided to brave it for a 500-meter check-out swim. Rough water but enough to settle my nerves. The rest of Friday was gear prep and a check-out ride while the skies got darker. Rain started that night.

Saturday was easy — team get-together, bike check-in, coffee and window shopping with Greg, early dinner. The first time we'd traveled to a race together without the kids. Really special.

Race Day: Alarm at 3am. After a night of rain, skies were clearing. My strategy was warmth over aero — vest, arm warmers, hand warmers in shoes, no socks with shoe covers. I seeded myself in the 33-35 minute swim corral.

Water temperature: 65 degrees — fantastic. I found my rhythm immediately and drafted some fast feet in the first few hundred meters. I sighted well, swam straight, and saved energy. Coming out of the water I heard Greg's voice right at the swim exit. I kept running, found the wetsuit strippers, and hustled to my bike.

Swim: 35:02 (4th place swim). T1: 3:49 (2nd fastest transition) — moved from 4th to 2nd place on transition alone.

I stayed in the moment throughout the bike — consistent power, navigating the technical downtown section, watching my watts on the climbs, staying controlled on the descents. I chased Deanna Newman — one of the fastest women in my age group nationally — and gave everything I had. The bike was physically demanding but mentally clear.

Off the bike and into the run, my legs responded well. CDA's community support was incredible — cheering everywhere. I ran a strong, consistent half marathon and crossed the finish line with a huge smile and Greg waiting at the line.

Final Result: 5:12 — 2nd AG W55-59. This race earned me a slot to the 2025 Ironman 70.3 World Championship in Marbella, Spain. CDA is everything people say it is. I will be back.

Well, my friends, I got to race this past weekend for the first time in over 18 months and it was glorious! I raced St George 70.3 for the fourth time — having also done so in 2013, 2015, and 2019. My race went very well with a strong swim and bike on the redesigned courses, though I struggled a bit on the run — perhaps the toughest run course in North America with 1,300 ft of elevation gain and an 8% grade on the signature climb.

My main concern going in was my left foot which had been sore during taper week. My added emphasis was figuring out what would and wouldn't work heading into Ironman Coeur d'Alene eight weeks later. St George was a tune-up race for the big one in Idaho.

Before getting into race day — Ironman and St George put on a great event. Sadly, there was a death during the swim at Sand Hollow. My condolences go out to that athlete's family. Check-in procedures were smooth with appointment times that made the process more efficient. With over 3,500 athletes, it was an enormous event.

I was lucky to have my good friend Audra road-trip with me from Evergreen — approximately a 9-hour drive. We arrived Thursday afternoon, checked in at athlete registration, and had dinner at a wonderful little café called Gaia's Garden. I was asleep by 9:30pm.

Friday: 10-mile check-out ride, 20-minute tune-up run, practice swim at Sand Hollow — my first open water swim in almost two years. Once that was done, I felt ready. Bike check at 4pm. Dinner: turkey sandwich on honey grain with hummus and carrots. Asleep by 9pm.

Race morning: alarm at 3:15am. Breakfast, Infinit bottles in cooler, timing chip on. The shuttle left at 4:25am for Sand Hollow. Once in transition, I sorted nutrition, gear, and mentally mapped my T1 route — over .3 miles of pavement barefoot with a sore left foot. I chose to focus only on what I could control.

Swim: Rolling start at 7:09am. An uneventful swim — calm, on pace, no panic. Finished in 33 minutes — my fastest ever at St George by over a minute. I'm especially proud given I hadn't done an OWS in 22 months.

Bike: Found my pace quickly. One slight cramp developing in my left hamstring on the climbs was a warning sign. Snow Canyon at mile 42 is the signature climb — 4-5 miles with the last two at 10-12% grade. Coming from Colorado, steep climbing doesn't worry me. I pushed harder than I probably should have but felt strong in the moment.

Run: The left hamstring cramp became a full cramp by mile 3. I had also underestimated the heat and my sodium needs — lesson learned. I managed through it, walked the steepest sections strategically, refocused my mindset, and kept moving. I crossed the finish line proud of the effort and grateful to be racing again.

The biggest takeaway: I was racing with an injured foot and came back from 18 months off during Covid. To cross that finish line, healthy and racing again, was all I needed. St George is hard. But it is honest. And I love it for that.

St George 70.3 is one of the most challenging and beautiful courses on the Ironman circuit. The iconic red rock landscape of Utah, the cold water of Sand Hollow Reservoir, the brutal climb through Snow Canyon, and the exposed run through downtown St George — this course demands every bit of your preparation and then some.

This was my third time on this course, having previously raced it in 2013 and 2015. I knew what was coming. The swim at Sand Hollow is cold and the water can be choppy depending on the wind. The bike features gradual climbs before the main event — Snow Canyon — a long, steep climb that separates those who paced properly from those who did not. The run is a two-loop course through town and the heat by late morning can be significant.

My race was a study in pacing and patience. I swam well, held my power on the bike, and ran through the heat with steady effort. The snow-covered red rock mountains visible throughout the bike course remain one of the most stunning race vistas I've experienced. St George is hard but the scenery and the community make it worth every difficult mile.

Final result: 5:42 — qualifications continued building toward my season goals. Another honest day at a demanding course that I respect enormously and look forward to returning to again.

Somebody please pinch me because I just had one of the most incredible experiences of my life! A year ago, Ironman announced they would be holding their first 70.3 race in Costa Rica. Greg and I had been talking about taking the boys to Costa Rica for years and hadn't had the chance yet. When our friends Al and Kristi mentioned they had bought a house in Tamarindo — a short 40-minute drive from Playa del Coco where the race was to be held — and offered for us to stay there, Greg said yes. That offer most likely made this trip possible. Thank you Al and Kristi.

Leading into the race there were reports of jellyfish at the swim site, unpaved roads on the bike course, and I knew the run was going to be brutally hot. Not ideal conditions but certainly adventurous ones. I made up my mind immediately: take the stress out of it, accept what I did and didn't have control over, and make the best of this exciting opportunity. I thought of race day as my Ironman Xterra 70.3.

We had a lot of rain leading into race day. Transition was a soccer field right on the beach that had turned into one big mud bath. I brought plastic bags to set up my gear but it did little to keep things dry in the puddles.

The swim at Playa del Coco was in warm, beautiful Pacific Ocean water — a welcome change from the cold mountain reservoirs of Colorado. I swam well and exited feeling strong. The bike course wound through lush Costa Rican jungle with views of monkeys, iguanas, and breathtaking scenery. The roads were challenging but the adventure made every mile worth it. I climbed well in the heat and humidity and managed my effort carefully knowing the run would demand everything.

The run in Playa del Coco is a brutal out-and-back in the midday Costa Rican heat. I focused on my form, my nutrition, my attitude. I pushed through the heat and the difficult terrain and crossed the finish line to learn I had taken 1st place in my age group and 25th woman overall — one of the greatest moments of my racing career to that point.

Costa Rica was magic. The race, the country, the people, the experience with my family. I am so grateful for every moment of that trip.

Rotterdam was an extraordinary experience — one of the most memorable of my career. Racing for Team USA at the ITU World Championship is a privilege I will never take for granted. Pulling on the red, white, and blue kit and representing my country at the highest level of age-group triathlon is something I had dreamed of for years.

The city of Rotterdam was an excellent host for the Grand Final. The event spanned multiple days with multiple courses, enormous volunteer support, and an electric atmosphere. The race circuit in the city on the famous Kop van Zuid peninsula was stunning — flat, fast, technical, with the iconic Erasmus Bridge as a backdrop and spectators lining every meter of the course.

The swim start, T1, and T2 were all in different places with water in between — a logistical puzzle that added to the unique character of the event. The race conditions were sunny and mild — absolutely perfect. The sprint-distance age-group race was a full gas effort from start to finish.

I raced well, representing my country and my family with everything I had. The experience of racing internationally at the World Championship level confirmed for me that the work, the sacrifice, and the years of training are worth every early morning and every difficult session. Rotterdam remains one of the most special places I have ever raced.

A career-defining moment. Racing for Team USA. At the World Championship. In one of the most beautiful cities in Europe. I am deeply grateful.

The Ironman 70.3 World Championship in Chattanooga, Tennessee was a race years in the making. Qualifying for and then toeing the line at Worlds is a testament to consistency, commitment, and the support of everyone around you who makes the training and the travel possible.

Chattanooga is a spectacular race venue. The Tennessee River swim, the rolling bike course through the Tennessee countryside, and the demanding run through downtown Chattanooga created a world-class racing experience. The energy of the World Championship — athletes from every corner of the globe, all having earned their place — is unlike anything in age-group triathlon.

I raced with everything I had. I executed my plan, managed the heat, and gave the run every ounce of strength remaining after the swim and bike. Crossing the finish line at a 70.3 World Championship as a qualifier — knowing that I had earned my spot on that start line — is one of the deepest satisfactions I have felt in this sport.

Chattanooga 2017 remains a proud memory and a reminder of what consistent, purposeful training and belief in yourself can achieve. I went on to qualify for Worlds again and again in subsequent years. Every qualification starts with moments like this one.

Boulder Sunrise is one of my favorite local races — a beautiful Olympic-distance course at Boulder Reservoir just an hour from home, surrounded by familiar faces, Colorado mountains, and the early-morning energy of race day in my own backyard.

The swim at Boulder Reservoir is crisp and clear. The bike course rolls through the Boulder foothills with stunning views of the Flatirons. The run is a two-loop out-and-back that demands focus in the Colorado morning heat. For an Olympic-distance race, it punches above its weight in both challenge and atmosphere.

I raced this as part of my 2019 Ironman Louisville build. The goal was to race sharp and race smart — dial in my pacing strategy, test my nutrition, and sharpen the competitive edge heading into my A-race of the year. I executed well, raced aggressively, and took 3rd in my age group against a competitive field.

Racing close to home in Colorado, with the mountains as a backdrop and friends and family cheering on the course, is a gift I never take for granted. Boulder Sunrise is always a joy.

I have been thinking about my race report for the past three days since I crossed the finish line at Ironman Louisville at 7:45pm on Sunday night. Usually I start to write within a day. But this one was different. I had waited a long time for this race. It was years in the making. I trained for a long time for this race. I prepared mentally for a long time for this race. I had to build up the self-confidence to toe the start line feeling positive I could handle the distance. It was a fairly long journey to get to Louisville — and once there, I was not going to let anything derail me.

Leading into the race there had been reports of extreme toxic green algae in the Ohio River. On Friday, Ironman officially confirmed the swim was cancelled — the water tested at a safety level of 60 against a maximum safe level of 8. I acknowledged it, chose not to dwell on it, and chose to focus on what was in my control.

On Saturday morning I swam 2.4 miles in the YMCA pool. I know in my heart I completed the full distance. Even if I hadn't — Ironman is a journey. Race day is the culmination of training and the sacrifices made by athletes and families. You don't go through a year of physical and mental fortitude and discount it because a river is too polluted for safety. That was beyond our control. Yes, in my mind, I came to Louisville to become an Ironman. I completed the race I was given. I consider myself an Ironman.

Sunday: 39 degrees at 7:15am. Steam rising off the Ohio River. I was grateful we weren't swimming into that cold. The time trial bike start was organized and efficient. I settled into my effort immediately.

The La Grange bike course was beautiful — rolling Kentucky hills, beautiful horse farms, incredible scenery. I had previewed it by car on Thursday and loved it. I executed my race plan nearly perfectly, managed my power, managed my nutrition, stayed focused mile by mile. Getting off the bike with 26.2 miles to run ahead of me is always a test of mental resolve.

The Louisville marathon run course follows the riverfront and through beautiful downtown neighborhoods. My husband and sons had written me special notes and brought good luck surprises. My sister was there. My best friend from high school was with me the night before, keeping me calm and making me laugh. I had more support in Louisville than I have had at almost any race in my life.

Mile by mile I ran. I walked aid stations. I thanked volunteers. I stayed in the present. I reminded myself of my "why." And at 7:45pm on a Sunday evening in Louisville, Kentucky, I crossed the finish line and heard those four words I had been working toward for years:

"Courtney, you are an Ironman."

Final time: 10:24. I cried. I smiled. I hugged my family. Everything I had put into that day was worth every moment. This is why we do this.

One of the most common questions I receive as a coach and as an athlete is this: how do you do it all? How do you balance triathlon training — with its enormous time demands across three sports — with the responsibilities of family, work, friendships, and maintaining your health and sanity?

The honest answer is that you don't do it all perfectly. Nobody does. What you do is make intentional choices about your priorities, build systems that support those priorities, and give yourself grace when life disrupts the plan — because life will always disrupt the plan.

Here is what I have learned over years of training, coaching, and trying to show up fully in every area of my life:

1. Plan your week like a project manager. I schedule my training sessions the same way I schedule work meetings and family commitments. They go in the calendar. They are non-negotiable unless something truly urgent takes priority. Without a plan, training is the first thing to disappear when life gets busy.

2. Communicate with your family. Your training affects the people who love you. Talk to them. Thank them. Involve them where you can. A training season built on resentment is not sustainable. A training season built on shared understanding and mutual support is.

3. Be efficient, not just consistent. A focused 60-minute session executed with purpose is worth more than a wandering 90-minute session done while mentally elsewhere. Quality matters. Show up for your sessions and be fully present.

4. Let some things go. The house doesn't have to be perfect. The inbox doesn't have to be at zero. Some commitments need to be said no to during heavy training periods. That is not failure — that is wisdom. You cannot pour from an empty cup.

5. Protect your recovery. Sleep is training. Nutrition is training. Rest days are training. The athletes I have coached who respect recovery are the ones who show up to race day healthy and strong. Respect the process in its entirety.

Triathlon teaches you more about yourself than almost anything else. It teaches you what you are capable of, what you value, and how to keep showing up when things get hard. Do it with intention. Do it with joy. And be kind to yourself along the way.

One of the true downsides to aging is the fact that our body can not bounce back from training in the way it used to as a young adult. It takes more conscious rest and recovery to remain strong and healthy to hit our start line. This is especially true during endurance training when the volume progresses to much higher loads and stress accumulates from physical training, family life and work. Trying to find balance is one of the biggest challenges we face. Long course triathlon magnifies the need for balance and recovery.

Running is the discipline within which most training-specific and overuse injuries occur. No one will be surprised when I say that running is hard on our body. When an athlete has a biomechanical form issue or is increasing mileage too quickly, it can be a recipe for injury if not corrected quickly and efficiently. If caught early, mild symptoms can often be offset with reduced mileage, run gait analysis and strength training.

Studies show that the more positive an athlete is about his or her recovery journey, the faster the healing process can be. One of the hardest challenges for an endurance athlete is to back off training and give an injury time to heal. When a big race is around the corner, all common sense can go right out the window. All too often, athletes push through an injury only to make it worse and possibly get sidelined for months.

Injuries are hard. They are painful physically and painful emotionally. The comeback from injury is frustrating and disheartening. Push too hard too soon and you risk a setback. Don't push enough and you delay recovery. As athletes, we must find a smarter and better way to train — to allow healing while keeping our fitness and sanity in place.

What is the safest way to return to running after injury?

1. Be honest with yourself about the extent of the injury. Find the resources you need — doctor, physical therapist, coach. Make rational, medically sound decisions so your emotions don't hold back your recovery.

2. Focus on the positives. The more you look on the bright side, the better your recovery will go. Stay active in the ways you can — swimming, cycling, pool running, strength work. Increased blood flow promotes healing and emotional well-being.

3. Walk before you run. Once your PT clears you, you should be able to walk for 45 minutes pain-free before adding any running. Walking conditions the soft tissue that has been recovering.

4. Be patient. Your aerobic engine may be ready long before your musculoskeletal system is. Honor that distinction. Start with short walk/run intervals three times a week on nonconsecutive days. Stick to soft surfaces. Never increase weekly mileage by more than 10%.

5. Focus on run-specific strength and mobility. Yoga, Pilates, general weight training, and run form drills help reinforce correct mechanics and reduce re-injury risk.

Do not allow a race or big goal to push you too hard too soon. Please feel free to reach out with questions about your personal recovery journey. I promise I can lend you a sympathetic ear and help you get back on your way safely.

2018 was my recovery year. After surgery earlier in the year, my focus shifted from racing to rebuilding — physically, mentally, and emotionally. It was not easy. For an athlete accustomed to a full training load and a packed race calendar, a year of forced patience tests every aspect of your identity and your relationship with sport.

But 2018 taught me things I needed to learn. It taught me that my worth as an athlete is not determined by my race results. It taught me to listen to my body with more sophistication and nuance than I had before. It taught me to appreciate the process of building fitness from a humble starting point — something that every new athlete experiences and that experienced athletes sometimes forget.

Building up after surgery or injury requires a different kind of courage than showing up to a race start line. It requires the courage to do less. To hold back when your instincts say push. To trust your medical team, your coach, and the process even when progress feels impossibly slow.

By fall of 2018, I was back on the bike with purpose. My swim fitness had never really left. My run was returning carefully, session by session. I was rebuilding my engine and my confidence simultaneously. And I was doing it with a depth of gratitude for movement, for health, and for the sport I love that I had not felt so acutely in years.

2018 built the foundation for everything that followed — 2019's Ironman Louisville, the return to Worlds, the years of racing that have brought me to where I am today. Every season of building is worth it. Trust the process. Do the work. Be patient with yourself. The return is always worth it.

I have lived in Evergreen, Colorado for 15 years. It is a gorgeous area and also the home of Team Evergreen Cycling and the starting line of the epic Triple Bypass ride. In 2019, the Triple Bypass celebrated its 31-year history with fabulous weather and a fantastic day on the bike. Believe it or not, this year was also my first time riding the Triple Bypass — which covers 120 miles from Evergreen to Avon, goes up and over Squaw and Juniper Pass, Loveland Pass and Vail Pass, adding up to just over 10,000 feet of climbing. It is considered the premier cycling event in Colorado and one of the best-known in the nation. All proceeds go right back to the community through local non-profits.

I have wanted to ride the Triple Bypass for the past ten years but the date had never worked quite right. This year I was thrilled to participate with friends from Evergreen. My coach, Kathy Alfino, worked it into my training as part of the lead-up to Ironman Louisville. I planned to ride easy — not hammer — with an average power just shy of my Ironman projected power. This was also an opportunity to test my nutrition plan, dial in my clothing choices, and work on pacing on long, steady mountain climbs.

Our day started at 3:15am. We were on course by 5:00am, targeting an early finish before afternoon thunderstorms. The first 40 miles — up Squaw Pass to Echo Lake — are our backyard. We train on Squaw Pass often and know it well. The 18-mile climb at a steady 4% incline goes by quickly with good conversation and friends. At the top, we added layers for the 14-mile descent into Idaho Springs.

The descent required vigilance. Some riders were reckless — crossing double yellow lines, pressing into our space at extreme speed. I remember being quite direct with a few of those riders about safety. Luckily, we all cruised into Idaho Springs unharmed, albeit a bit shaken.

From Idaho Springs we picked up the bike path toward Georgetown and then continued to Loveland Pass — our second major climb and the highest point of the day at over 11,000 feet. My legs were getting tired by Loveland but the fitness was there. I crested the top in what I now know was a personal best time. The views from Loveland Pass are extraordinary. A bagpiper was playing at the summit. The wind howled and the sky went dark.

Vail Pass was the third and final major climb — steep in sections but with the finish in Avon close enough to smell. Our group stayed together beautifully throughout. We rolled into Avon just before 4:00pm — right as the thunderstorms rolled in behind us. We were already eating tacos and drinking beer when the rain arrived.

An unforgettable day. 11 hours total. 120 miles. 10,000+ feet of climbing. Great friends. Colorado mountains at their finest. This is why we live here.

I expected to be writing more race reports this season but alas that was not in the cards for me after Ironman St. George 70.3 on May 1, 2021. I had big plans for this year and a lot of races on the calendar given all of my deferral events due to Covid last season. Sadly, as most of you know, I tore my plantar fascia at the calcaneal origin during that race in St George and that injury has been slow to heal. The past four months have been focused on calming that fascial tissue, allowing it to heal, and now starting to rebuild as I strengthen that foot. Emotionally, it has been very hard. It's been a long and unpredictable journey.

I had debated whether or not to ride the Triple Bypass this summer. The Triple Bypass begins right here in Evergreen and this year's route to Vail had just shy of 110 miles with 10,200 feet of elevation gain. It is not a race — you can stop, eat, wait for friends, rest at support areas. That freedom made me more comfortable taking on this challenge with an injury. I decided I would train as tolerated. If climbing on the bike didn't cause my foot to flare up, I would consider the event.

By the end of July, my training included rides up Squaw Pass to Echo Lake. Each training ride I got faster, my heart rate lower, and my foot felt better both during and after. I started wrapping my mind around the long day ahead. My plan: pacing, resting, Zone 1 and 2 endurance efforts, easy spinning on climbs. No Gran Fondo timing sections for me this year. Just pedal, breathe, keep that foot safe, and rebuild strength and stamina.

I feel incredibly grateful for the group of inspiring women with whom I got to ride the Triple Bypass — Julie, Gretchen, Audra, Marcie, Marcie's son Cale, and Marty. We started at 5:30am. The climb up Squaw Pass was cold and windy. Purple lips and chattering teeth by Juniper Pass. We layered up and descended safely into Idaho Springs.

Audra, who had knee replacement surgery earlier in the year — less than 6 months post-op — rode 70 miles with us that day. I am so proud of her. The longest she had ridden before this event was 50 miles. We supported each other and paced each other for success throughout the day.

On Loveland Pass — our second mountain, highest elevation at over 11,000 feet — Audra had a flat tire about a mile into the climb. After a stressful wait near the summit, nearly hypothermic, she crested the top with a smile and a story. A bagpiper was playing at the peak. The mountains were magnificent. We descended into Keystone and regrouped.

Vail Pass was the final climb. We were all tired but we pushed through. We rolled into Avon tired, proud, and grateful — 110 miles, 10,200 feet of climbing, 8+ hours in the saddle. The Evergreen crew came back together from a season of injuries, deferrals, and uncertainty with one of the best days on the bike any of us had all year.

Some days you just need to remind yourself what your body is still capable of. This was one of those days.

I have been sitting with gratitude a lot lately. After a landmark season — Costa Rica, Chattanooga Worlds, Rotterdam — I find myself pausing to reflect on what this sport has given me and what it continues to give me every single day.

Triathlon has given me community. The friendships I have built through this sport — training partners, race day companions, fellow coaches, athletes I have guided and who have guided me — are among the deepest and most meaningful relationships of my life. These are people who understand the commitment, the sacrifice, and the joy at a visceral level. They show up for each other in ways that go far beyond sport.

Triathlon has given me identity. Not as a label — I am many things before I am an athlete. But as a framework for understanding what I value: hard work, consistency, showing up even when it's difficult, pursuing goals that challenge me and make me grow. These are the values I try to model for my sons and for the athletes I coach.

Triathlon has given me perspective. When I am on the run at mile 12 of a 70.3 and everything hurts and I am choosing to keep moving forward — that is a kind of clarity. All of the noise of ordinary life falls away. There is only the next step, the next breath, the next choice. That simplicity is profoundly restoring.

And triathlon has given me this: the knowledge that I am stronger than I think I am. That I can do hard things. That the limits I perceive are almost always softer than the limits I discover when I press against them.

Thank you to everyone who has been part of this journey. To my family. To my training partners. To my athletes. To the sport itself. I am deeply, deeply grateful.

The holiday season always brings me to a place of deep reflection. As the racing year winds down and the training volume backs off, the quieter pace creates space to notice the people and relationships that make all of the effort worthwhile.

This sport asks a lot of the people around us. Our families, our partners, our children — they absorb the early mornings, the long weekends away, the mental energy we invest in training and competition. Their patience and support are gifts I do not take lightly. This time of year I am especially grateful for them.

I am grateful for friendship — the kind built mile by mile on training rides, in lap pools, on race courses, and in hotel lobbies the night before big races. For the training partners who push me and comfort me and make the hard days possible. For the women on my Cupcake Cartel team who race with heart and laugh with abandon and show me every season what it looks like to live fully.

I am grateful for the athletes I coach. For their trust, their openness, their willingness to do the hard work and believe in themselves even when belief is hard to find. Watching an athlete cross a finish line they never believed they could reach is the greatest professional privilege I know.

And I am grateful for the sport itself — for what it has made of me and continues to make of me, season after season. For the goals still ahead, the races still to run, the miles still to swim and bike. For the reminder, every single year, that the best is always still possible.

Happy holidays to every athlete, coach, volunteer, race director, and family member who makes this sport what it is. You are all a part of this. Thank you.

After crossing the finish line at Ironman Costa Rica 70.3 as the 1st place age grouper and 25th woman overall, I had a week of recovery ahead of me — and I intended to make every moment of it count.

We were staying at Al and Kristi's beautiful home in Tamarindo, just 40 minutes from Playa del Coco where the race had been held. The Pacific Coast of Costa Rica is breathtaking — lush green jungle meeting turquoise water, white sand beaches, warm sun, the sounds of howler monkeys in the trees at dawn.

Recovery week in Costa Rica looked like this: morning walks on the beach. Quiet coffees watching the waves. Easy swims in the ocean. Exploring local markets and restaurants. Family time that had nothing to do with training or racing — just being present with the people I love in one of the most beautiful places on earth.

We saw wildlife everywhere — iguanas sunning on the beach, monkeys moving through the jungle canopy, colorful birds calling from the trees. The food was fresh and incredible. The people were warm and welcoming. The pace of life in Tamarindo was exactly what a body and mind need after months of intense training and a hard race effort.

Costa Rica reminded me why I race — not just for the finish lines and the podiums, but for the adventures those goals take me on. The places I go, the people I meet, the experiences I share with my family that could not happen any other way. Racing has taken me to beautiful corners of the world and given me memories I will carry for the rest of my life.

Pura Vida. Pure life. That is what Costa Rica gave me that week. I am deeply grateful.

There is nothing quite like racing in your home state. The Colorado Triathlon is a local event that holds a special place in my heart — familiar roads, familiar faces, mountains in the distance, and the unique energy of a race community where you know so many of the people around you on the course.

The Colorado Triathlon features a swim in a cold Front Range reservoir, a rolling bike course through the Colorado foothills, and a run in the altitude that separates those who have trained here from those who have not. For those of us who live and train at elevation, it is as close to a home field advantage as triathlon offers.

I raced sharp and aggressive, drew on my altitude fitness, and executed my race plan from start to finish. The result: 1st place in my age group and 6th female overall — one of my strongest domestic performances of the season.

Racing at home, with friends and family on the course, in Colorado — it does not get much better than this. The Colorado Triathlon is a reminder of why I love this sport and why I love living in the mountains. Every race here feels like a celebration of the place I call home.