The Next Right Step

I stood at the edge of the water while the sunrise glimmered across the Choptank River. The river was living up to its name. It was choppy.

I was nervous but excited. Shaking, but my mind was still. Then I heard a very familiar scream.

"LET'S GO, STREHLOW!"

My sister, the Sherpa Queen, had somehow found her way to the front again, squeezed into a sea of spectators with my parents. 

I WAS READY!

On the Hunt

The cannon went off.

The swim was relentless. It was the kind of water where you swim hard and barely go anywhere. Every time I found a rhythm, another wave knocked me out of it but somehow, I found a way through. 

I came out of the water in second, three minutes behind first. 

I was on the hunt! I LOVE being in that position.

I settled into the bike and was nearing the end of the first of two loops when I heard the sound every triathlete knows and never wants to hear. 

It sounded like a penny rattling around in a washing machine. 

Then came the hiss.

My rear tire was flat, all the way to the rim. The two men I'd been riding with were gone. The mechanic was nowhere in sight.

I pulled over, grabbed my flat kit, repaired it as best I could, and kept going… for a while, anyway.

Whatever I'd ridden over had sliced the tire, and my repair gave out. Flat again.

By then the mechanic had found me. He fixed the tire, and before I clipped back in, I asked him for one thing:

"Can you follow me for the next ten miles? Just to make sure the plug holds?"

Thankfully, he agreed.

Fix It. Keep Going.

I took off like a bat out of hell. 

Then, BOOM. 

Flat again.

The mechanic was still down the road. It felt like hours until he got to me. I could feel my heartbeat in my throat. My hands were shaking.

I made myself focus on my breath, in and out.

I prayed.

Please just give me a sign that You are with me. Please keep me safe, Lord. 

Then my mind started skipping like a record:

Everything is always working out for me.

There's no problem.

It's such a long day.

This sucks.

I'm bleeding so much time right now.

Back and forth, back and forth. 

Flat after flat, none of them invited, but each time I had a choice. Either I replay how unfair it was, or I ask what I can do next. 

Fix it. Keep going.

The Sign I Needed.

People often pray for signs. Some people see cardinals. Some see flowers. Some see numbers.

For me, it's often a collection of ones. 111 or 1111.

As I rolled up to T2 to get off my bike and start my run, I passed a man who was also approaching the dismount.

Out of over 2,000 athletes, you know what his number was?

1111

I can't make this up. My evidence is in the Ironman app!

I smiled ear to ear and said, "Thank you."

I was back. I was safe.

I thought, I'm in perfect position.

This is exactly where I need to be.

Off the bike, I was around 35 minutes behind. I had gone from chasing first to dead last to slowly making my way back.

One Step, Then the Next

I could have let that be the whole story.

Instead I started running.

One step, then the next right one.

I ran my way back into the race, passing women one at a time, with nothing to prove except that I hadn't quit on myself.

I finished fifth.

Becoming Someone You Trust

We're so quick to read an obstacle as proof that something has gone wrong. We decide the plan is ruined, that we're behind, that we aren't good enough, that we need to know how everything will turn out before we can move. 

So we worry. We rehearse every possible future and convince ourselves that all that thinking must be doing something. 

Worry is like a rocking chair. It gives you something to do, but it doesn't get you anywhere.

On that road in Maryland, I didn't know my tire would go flat multiple times. I didn't know I'd come off the bike 35 minutes back. 

I didn't need to.

I only needed to know what was in front of me.

We tend to overestimate the future and underestimate ourselves.

I don't think the goal is to become someone who never struggles, never slips up, never quits a workout early.

The goal is to become someone you trust.

Someone who can look at a mistake without turning it into a story about who they are.

Someone who can take a setback without deciding they're a failure.

Someone who can make a course correction without believing the entire course is wrong.

Someone who knows that growing pains don't mean something is broken.

And ultimately, someone with an internal sense of success.

Not the race I planned. Not the result I imagined at the water's edge. 

But I knew exactly who showed up that day, and that was my win!

Thank You for Being Part of the Journey

To everyone who has supported me and followed along on this journey, thank you. 

Your messages, your cheers, and your belief in me carry me through the flat tires and the finish lines alike.

I'm grateful for every one of you, and I can't wait to share what's next this season.

Sincerely Grateful,

Anna