It’s fascinating to me how something’s the most random memories get stuck in your head. There’s this vivid memory I have of 12-year-old me in our family camper. At the time I had a fitbit and I was obsessed with it, loved seeing the numbers count up and every activity was logged. That particular day I had hit 30k steps and I was particularly impressed with my new record. It’s crazy to me that even that number was remembered more than a decade later. I’m staring out the window struggling to fall asleep thinking of all the running and biking we had done that day when the idea hits me to run an ironman. I’ve always been someone who loves to push myself but I was by no means a triathlete. I was running JV middle school cross country and my bike experience maxed out at a family ride through the mountains but the idea stuck.

That next summer I ran my first sprint triathlon. The following summer? An olympic.

Then life got busy. Trips, Friends, so many other adventures; and the childhood dream of an ironman never happened.

Little side tangent, I’m not a fan of needles so I would often get asked if I had to get a tattoo what would it be? And without fail I would tell them I’d get a tattoo when I ran an ironman.

Carson’s heard this countless times and would always ask me what I was waiting for. He would always share Trenor’s Ironman stories.

So last year when I transitioned from freelancing to a more in-house position I suddenly had time on my hands. If I don’t do this now, I might never, so why not run an ironman?

Little did I know, there weren’t any full ironmans for a thousand miles in any direction. I could easily have called it quits right there but I knew I had to do this, so I signed up for a half ironman. A 70.3. I would swim during my lunch breaks, turn commutes to my girlfriend into a long ride, and run late through the night. For the first time since high school I was feeling fully alive and following a dedicated training plan. I’d always been active but not like this.

As for race day, there has never been a more rewarding experience than crossing that finish line. 6 hours of pure adrenaline and to hit that final kick at the end was unbeatable and I’m so glad I did it. Not just for the race day but the whole experience of training for it and the community who came from every corner of my life to support this.

Next stop? A full ironman and my first tattoo because why not.

Swen Richter