I have big goals. Not the kind people expect and not the safe ones. Not the “just stay active” or “just be healthy” kind. I mean real goals—the kind that stretch you, challenge you, and don’t always make sense to everyone else. The kind that sits quietly in your chest and remind you… you’re not done yet.
That part of me has never changed.
I’ve been this way for as long as I can remember. Even as a kid, I believed in setting goals—weekly, monthly, yearly—not because I thought I’d hit every single one, but because they gave my life direction. They gave me something to chase and kept me from drifting. It became something I passed down to my kids too. Write them down. Put them where you can see them. Go after them. And if they don’t happen, you don’t erase them or throw them away—you carry them with you, you adjust, you grow, and you become the person who’s ready for them. Because not every goal is meant for right now, and that’s the season I’m in.
Right now, I have big goals in front of me. Qualifying for Boston is still there—it always has been—but if I’m being honest with my schedule, my training, and where my energy needs to go, that’s not the goal for this year. And instead of forcing it or trying to chase everything at once, I’m choosing to focus. Because right now, the goal in front of me is clear: breaking the 9:30:00 barrier in my 50-mile race. That’s not something you casually show up for. That’s not a “we’ll see how it goes” kind of goal. That’s time, endurance, long days, tired legs, and building an engine most people never even try to build.
Boston is still mine, and if I have to find a different path to get there—raising money for something that matters deeply to me—I will. But right now, it’s waiting its turn, and I’m okay with that. Because I’ve learned that just because something isn’t happening right now doesn’t mean it’s not meant for you. Sometimes it just means you’re still becoming the person who can handle it.
I’ve lived that before. It took me 18 years to get to the world Championships Ironman Kona start line. Eighteen years of holding onto a dream that didn’t happen when I wanted it to. Life happened, kids happened, setbacks happened, and most people would have let that dream go. I didn’t. I kept it tucked away, worked towards it every opportunity I got and when I finally got there, it meant everything to me— because I didn't give up and it was built over time.
To top that off the race I qualified for Kona was the hardest Ironman I’ve ever done—cold, rainy, sleeting, miserable conditions—and I watched people quit all around me. But I wanted this so bad it pushed me mentally and physically in a way that proved I could keep going, even when everything said stop. There was no way I was going to do that, they would have to pull me off the course that's how bad I I wanted it and knew how close I was to getting it!
Lately, I’ve felt that spark again. Watching Natalie Grabow cross the finish line in Kona at 80 didn’t hit me loud—it hit me deep. Just thinking YES, I want to be 80 years old and finish Ironman Kona again, if she can do I can to. Even with 15 Ironman distance finishes under my belt, it looks like I need to sign up for one every other year so maybe 2027 Ironman Lake Placid, let's see what the cost of that one will be first.
When I think about where that drive comes from, it makes sense. On my mom’s side, it’s endurance. I’ve watched my aunt Ramona run marathons and half marathons, push through pain, bad knees, even after back surgery, and still keep going in her 60s when everything says stop.
On my dad’s side, it’s strength and determination—powerlifting, competition, that mindset of pushing limits and not letting go once you’ve decided something matters. When you put those together—endurance and grit—you get someone who keeps going, even when it would be easier not to.
Because the truth is, there are days I could sit down and do nothing. Days I could say I’m too tired I get up at 4:02 almost every day. Days were slowing down would make perfect sense.
However, that isn't who I am! Life is too short to do nothing and yes, I rely on medication every single day, and my body doesn’t always cooperate. I gain weight easily, I don’t lose it the way others do, and I don’t always look like what people expect an athlete to look like and yes, I could use that as an excuse—but I won’t, because that’s not the life I want.
I don’t want to sit on the sidelines and watch life pass by. I want to live it, chase things, and see what I’m capable of doing at any age—even when it’s uncomfortable. However, more than anything, I want my kids to see that. Not perfection, not everything going right, but what it looks like to keep showing up anyway. To have goals, to have dreams, to be patient enough to wait for them and strong enough to work for them.
Because at the end of the day, your mindset is everything. It’s the one thing no diagnosis can take, no setback can steal, and no timeline can control. So, I’ll keep going, I’ll keep setting goals, I’ll keep chasing them, and I’ll keep building toward things that haven’t happened yet—because just because it hasn’t happened yet doesn’t mean it won’t.
Keep chasing the sun.
