On November 16, 2025, I stood on the edge of Tempe Town Lake with thousands of athletes, the sky still dark, the air thick with nerves and anticipation. I was about to attempt something that, not long ago, felt impossible.
A Full Ironman (140.6-miles) is more than a race. It’s a test of identity. A reckoning with your limits. A mirror that reveals who you are when everything in you wants to stop.
And now that I’ve crossed that finish line—cramped, exhausted, watch dead, bike computer gone, and still ringing the bell at 14:06—I’ve had some time to reflect on what it all meant.
This race was about far more than swimming, biking, and running.
It was about the man I became during the journey.
1. You Don’t Rise to the Level of Race Day—You Fall to the Level of Your Training
Ironman taught me that discipline compounds. Every 5 a.m. alarm. Every brick workout. Every long ride under the Florida sun. Every run where I didn’t feel like running.
When race day punched me in the mouth—and it did—I didn’t rise to some mythical heroic version of myself. I fell back on months of consistency.
That’s the same lesson I’ve learned in business and leadership:
When pressure hits, you are who you’ve practiced being.
2. Adversity Doesn’t Show Up to Stop You—It Shows Up to Shape You
This was not a smooth race.
I battled cramps from the swim to the finish line. Lost my bike computer. My watch died. My legs rebelled. My mind tried to negotiate with me at every mile marker.
But Ironman isn’t meant to be smooth.
It’s meant to strip away everything that’s not essential.
Somewhere around mile 3 of the run, I realized the race wasn’t testing my fitness anymore—it was testing my commitment, my identity, my purpose.
Ironman asks one question over and over:
“Who are you when no one is watching and quitting is an option?”
3. The Right People Make the Impossible Possible
Crossing that finish line was emotional—not just because I did it, but because of who I did it with.
Having my best friend, Arye, out there with me… having my wife and kids supporting this journey… having people in my life who believe in me, push me, challenge me, and love me—
That was everything.
Ironman might be an individual sport, but nobody completes one alone.
It reminded me of building Keller Swan.
It reminded me of why leadership—and life—are team sports.
4. Transformation Happens in the Micro-Moments
Everyone sees the finish line photo—the bell ringing, the exhausted smile, the medal around the neck.
But the real transformation didn’t happen there.
It happened:
- On the days I didn’t want to train but did anyway.
- During the quiet early mornings when most of the world was asleep.
- In the moments of doubt where I chose belief.
- When drinking was no longer an escape and endurance became my therapy.
Ironman didn’t change me.
It revealed the man I’ve been becoming for years now.
5. Your Kids Aren’t Listening to What You Say—They’re Watching Who You Are
One of the most emotional moments for me wasn’t the finish line—it was being able to talk to my wife and kids on the course an know that they were home cheering me on.
I want my kids to grow up knowing that big goals matter.
That hard things are worth doing.
That excuses don’t build dreams—effort does.
Finishing Ironman wasn’t just for me.
It was for them.
6. When You Cross One Finish Line, You Discover Another Starting Line
Ironman was supposed to be the culmination of a journey—but instead, it unlocked a new one.
I’ve got big mountains ahead, literally and figuratively:
29029 in June
More races. More goals.
And a life mission to inspire others to break through their own limitations.
Ironman didn’t close a chapter.
It ignited a new one.
Closing Thoughts: You Don’t Need an Ironman to Change Your Life
Ironman was my path.
But your path might look very different.
The truth is this:
You don’t need 140.6 miles to transform your life.
You just need a starting point, a decision, and the courage to follow through.
That’s what my journey has taught me.
That’s what I hope my kids see.
And that’s what I hope you take away from this:
If you’re willing to show up every day,
If you’re willing to embrace discomfort,
If you’re willing to believe in a future version of yourself—
There is no finish line you cannot reach.
Keep shining your light.
