I did an Ironman but still feel empty inside

I admit…the title is a bit more aggressive than reality. There is some truth to it though. 

A 2.4 mile swim, 112 mile bike, and 26.2 mile run - 140.2 miles of fun.  The Ironman has been regarded as one of the most challenging races on planet earth since its first running in 1978. 

Based on which statistic you are reading (I will obviously choose the one that sounds the coolest), less than .01% of earth’s population has completed this event. Pretty gnarly, right? Unsurprisingly, this statistic was a key factor in my decision to set out to complete this triathlon with little to no experience. 

For most of my life, I chased the easiest path forward while still hoping to come out on top. Delusional? Absolutely. But I clung to the idea that I could somehow shortcut my way to success. That illusion cracked pretty quickly after I graduated college with a 2.4 GPA and moved to newark, New Jersey to work for my dad as a leasing administrator making minimum wage. It was the only job I could get… scratch that, the only job I applied for. Nepotism was my golden ticket, and I was cashing it in.

Health? Not a priority. I was more interested in drinking beer, playing video games, and doing the bare minimum. Unsurprisingly, that lifestyle sent me into a downward spiral, and I hit bottom — literally waking up drunk at the end of the L train in Coney Island, phone dead, head spinning, and life feeling…empty. Something had to give.

So, I did what any completely unqualified, slightly desperate person might do: I signed up for a marathon. I needed something hard. Something to force me to commit, focus, and finish.

And I did. It took me about five hours, but I crossed the line — didn’t die — and for the first time in a while, felt proud. That single act of following through lit a spark. Maybe, just maybe, I could be better.

Then Covid hit. 

I quit my job and moved back home to Colorado to live with my parents. Not exactly the triumphant adult life I had envisioned, but it ended up being the reset I didn’t know I needed. For the first time in forever, I started doing some real work on myself. Mentally, physically, emotionally — the whole “figure your sh*t out” package. I started training every day. Not just for the sake of working out, but because it was one of the few things that gave me clarity.

Eventually, I needed a new mountain to climb, so I made the goal to complete an Ironman. Not just to prove something to other people — though that definitely played a part — but mostly to prove something to myself: that I could go all in, sacrifice, and follow through.

I signed up for my first triathlon, a half Ironman in December of 2023. Spoiler alert: it was way harder than I expected. But I finished it in 5 hours and 30 minutes and felt…proud. Proud that I showed up. Proud that I stuck with it. Proud that I didn’t fake a mechanical issue on the bike and call it a day.

So I did what any reasonable person would do and signed up for a full Ironman on the other side of the world. Ironman Switzerland. Full send.

Months of training followed — early mornings, long brick workouts, weekends sacrificed to long runs and even longer rides. I adjusted my entire life around this race. And then race day came. 140.6 miles later, I crossed the finish line. The announcer said the words I had been dreaming about: You are an Ironman.

And yet…I felt no different.

Don’t get me wrong — finishing the race was incredible. It’s something I’ll always be proud of. But there was no magical transformation at the finish line. No overwhelming rush of clarity or purpose. Just…me. Exhausted. Hungry. Done. And wondering why the moment didn’t feel as meaningful as I thought it would.

That’s the thing no one tells you: accomplishing big goals doesn’t fix everything. It doesn’t fill the void. If anything, it just makes you realize that the void was never going to be filled by medals, finish lines, or checklists. You can’t outrun the work you haven’t done on yourself. I tried. For 140.6 miles.

But here’s what I did find: the value wasn’t in the finish — it was in the becoming. In who I had to become to even get to the start line. The discipline, the humility, the commitment — those are the things that matter. Not the medal. Not the Instagram post. Not the stats.

So yeah, maybe I did an Ironman and still feel a bit empty.  But I’m learning that emptiness isn’t always a bad thing. Sometimes it just means there’s still room to grow.

Next stop…double ironman…hopefully that does the trick ;)

-L.w.