I qualified for the 2007 Ironman World Championship in Hawaii at Ironman Western Australia, which was held December 3, 2006. Following IMWA, during the winter break in December and January, my racing focus shifted to a new challenge: short course triathlon. In my 19 months in the sport of triathlon, I completed six Ironmans and eight halfs and after three consecutive years of qualifying for Kona, I felt the time was right to try something new.

Through short course training, I became a better swimmer and runner, but my cycling has gotten weaker. Kona was not a focus for me this year: I did only a handful of distance workouts. My weekly cycling volume fell by around 75% from 2006. In addition, I did just one run that was longer than two hours. What's worse, I lost a lot of my base and endurance when I was sidelined with iliotibial band (ITB) problems for two months this summer: no cycling, no running and no aquajogging. However, my weekly hours of training were up, and my heart rate was down, so I knew even though I was compensating for the lack of running and cycling in the pool, I was still maintaining my fitness.

Upon arrival in Kona (a day late due to delayed luggage that prevented me from making a connecting flight), I immediately felt the magic of the island and savored the atmosphere of anticipation around me. I had mixed feelings of excitement and fear. I was very curious how my speed workouts would affect my finish time, but I was also fearful of the distance. After 10.5 months, I wasn't sure my body remembered what 140.6 miles felt like. The business school student in me kept running numbers in my head trying to gauge a realistic finish time.

As I was putting my transition and special needs bags together, I found it interesting how I still remembered where everything went, how many salt pills I'd need, how many gels and where everything goes. It's as if my hands knew the drill so well, I didn't even need to think twice.

On race morning, I was very excited and giddy. I was doing this race for fun and had no expectations.

Just as I got in the water to start swimming to the start line, I felt a stabbing pain in my right arm. Within minutes, the pain was so overpowering that I was unable to move my arm. I showed my arm to a surfer who was marking the start line and he exclaimed, "Wow, an animal bit you!" The pain was getting unbearable, but time was ticking down to the start and I didn't want to get out of the water and fight through crowds to find a medic, so I just came to terms that the swim was going to hurt.

"Guys, enjoy your day" Blast!, the cannon went off. That caught everyone off guard, we were expecting something like "ready, set, go." Each time I moved my arm, it ached, but I pressed on. I had forgotten what it's like to swim with men in the past 10.5 months; I started the races with women-only heats this year. I felt pushed a lot by the men (and there was the usual elbows and kicks to the face and body) and regretted not being able to sprint the front to get a clearer location in the field of 1800+ triathletes.

I got out of the water in a respectable 67 minutes, headed into T1, and within minutes was on my bike. I was very happy to be maintaining a comfortable but quick pace. I was passing dozens of people, although there were many men who were passing me. At mile 40, I started feeling a bit tired and I stopped being able to pass people. Then the winds picked up and I spent the trip up to Hawi, the turnaround, nearly standing still and the men were practically flying as they passed me. Over miles 50-65 I felt miserable and had many dark moments, my eyes were rolling to the back of my head and my mind was clouded by pain and negativity. I wanted to get off the bike and quit. At mile 75, I started recognizing the people who were now passing me as the people I had passed in miles 0-40. This was very disheartening and I knew that I was in trouble. My legs had zero strength in them, but I somehow managed to 'limp' back to Kailua-Kona to T2. The only thing that kept me going was the prospect of getting off the bike and starting the marathon.

I got back to transition over six hours after I left it, my slowest ironman bike split ever. But I got my wish and started the run. Had my bike split been faster, I would have probably had more of an incentive to push the marathon pace. But at that point I knew where the girls were in front of me and I knew I had no chance of catching them. My first 10k was comfortable and quick. I struggled with hunger (due to the cruelly long & slow bike ride) from 20k to 30k, but felt better and comfortably picked up the speed over the last 12k. This was the most pleasant marathon I've ever run.

The finish chute in Hawaii is the most spectacular finish chute of all finish chutes in the world. For most people, it signifies not only the hard work and determination of this race, but also of the race they qualified in. For many, it could be the one and only time they would ever be running down it. Some overcame tremendous odds and succeeded when others thought it was impossible. For two, it would mean a lifetime of bragging rights as Ironman World Champions.

As for me, it solidified the lesson I learned about life that day: what you get out of an experience is directly linked to what you put into it. As direct proof of this, this race presented my fastest ironman swim and marathon, and my slowest bike split. Another conclusion I drew from my race is that it was my blazing fast bike split in Ironman Western Australia that qualified me for the 2007 World Championship, but it took a year of working on my weaknesses, the swim and run, to see my fastest result in Hawaii so far. This is directly applicable in life, whether in personal or professional: our strengths can get us what we want, but it's working on our weaknesses that allows us to achieve real success.

P.S. You are probably wondering what the tape on my legs is. My physical therapist from Denver, Stuart Wilson, masterminded a way of taping that would take the pressure off the ITB. The taping works really well and I was able to compete pain free.