The After: Still Here, Still Shining.

I didn’t tie my entire identity to triathlon, but it has always been more than just swim, bike, run.

It’s been my community.
My grounding.
A mirror, a launchpad, a space to push, to break, to rebuild.
It’s where I discovered strength I didn’t know I had.

It’s also where I found real value in myself—self-worth, self-confidence, self-esteem.
It was mine. I chose it. I control it.

I had to do the work, but I didn’t have to do it alone.
Coaches, co-workers, friends, the tribe of triathlon became a mentally and physically healthy family. A massive, ever-evolving circle of people I’ve met, known, and have yet to meet. That still stands true. It’s the energy that lifted me up, shaped me, and kept me moving forward.

Triathlon gave me tools I carry into life’s heavier miles:
• how to show up when it’s hard
• how to listen closely when the noise gets loud
• how to start over when you didn’t ask for a restart

I’ve met people in this sport who changed me, some for a chapter, some for a season, and some in passing moments I can’t fully recall but still feel. A glance while racking our bikes in transition, small talk on the pool deck before warm-up, a quick chat during packet pick-up, or a shared head-nod while climbing some never-ending hill on the bike or shuffling through a tough run. Maybe we volunteered together, handed out water, or held down the “Bike-In” inflatable in hurricane force winds. Those connections, brief or lasting, left a mark. Sometimes it was just a smile that said, “You’ve got this.” Or a knowing look that translated, “Yeah, this hurts... keep going.” That kind of energy stays. And I know I give it, too. We’re all out there navigating our own version of chaos, tri kits, snot rockets, and training, but somehow, we make space for each other in the mess. That’s the good stuff.

I’m not for everyone. And everyone’s not for me.
That’s not judgment, it’s just truth.

What matters to me now, in The After, is vulnerability.
Not running from it, running toward it.
Letting it soften the hard edges, challenge the old patterns, and remind me that strength doesn’t mean holding it all together. It means being real, even when it’s uncomfortable.

The After has been about learning to stop bracing against what hurts and instead move with it. To let it teach me, shape me, and not define me. Vulnerability isn't weakness—it’s presence, it’s courage, and it’s the most honest way I know to keep growing.

So now, I’m choosing to show up.
For myself.
For others.
For the version of me still becoming.

I’m guarding my boundaries, taking personal inventory, checking my blind spots, and doing the behind-the-scenes work no one applauds. Because growth isn’t always loud. And healing doesn’t ask for a spotlight.

This life isn’t a dress rehearsal.
And The After isn’t an ending.

It’s the start of something deeper.
More grounded.
More real.

And no matter how far I go or how much changes, this community, that massive family of humans who share the same rhythm, spirit, and fire, remains part of me. The connections still matter. The energy still moves. And I’m still here, still shining with you all and because of you all.

Thanks for being here.
Keep SHINING!