11 years ago I did my first triathlon.
I showed up in my bikini on my dad’s beach cruiser, my swim teammate Kelsey by my side. I took time to put on knee braces in transition. I went from first out of the water, to last on the bike, back to second after the run - all in a little over an hour. There was no race plan, no coach, no gear, only curiosity.
It was a neighborhood sprint triathlon that I signed up for despite my parents reluctance in ruining my swimming career.
As an overworked injury/accident prone teenager at the time -- I’ve learned a lot since then on training with my body -- my parents were worried I would hurt myself racing. I was going into my freshman year at JMU and swimming collegiately that next week…and their concern for watching me take to land sports, was quite apparent.
Side note: these old photos will always serve as a reminder of the resilience my body as developed since it’s days of chronic overuse injuries and neglecting of rest, the maturation of my self-understanding and approach.
Side, side note: Ha, sorry that I went even a more dangerous path on the mtb :D
I digress.
Each year to follow (besides the year of my hip surgeries) I would so generously be provided a bike to ride and gear to wear for a new race (and increased distance).
Each time, getting to the start line solely because various mentors in my life believed in my potential, and planted a seed of encouragement and possibility.
Each race, more curious.
What could this race bring? Could I go further? Maybe faster?
I never trained my running outside of the race, never learned to clip into my pedals. Never thought to practice my nutrition. But mentally, I was always ready to go and felt prepared. Like a horse out of the gate for the one chance I’d get to race, I had a whole year in between to build up the anticipation.
Little did I expect, or even plan or DREAM that this is where I’d be in 11 years. I never went into each race with this in mind.
I showed up because I was curious.
11 years later, curiosity continues to be my driving force.
And when curiosity became too overwhelming - it’s what led me to signing up and pursuing this cross-world World Championship race two weeks out.
To this day, I am still naive in more ways many would imagine when competing at the pinnacle category of racing. Still, only toeing the start line because of the support received. I still borrow equipment - it’s what got me to this point - Zoot, helping me with the racing gear this go-around. In fact, this was the first race I did on my own bike. I still wear flats on my mountain bike. I made some rookie learnings in gear, I showed up the day before my race and still feel like I’m doing it for the first time (in a way, I now embrace and use to my advantage).
There is another way it hasn’t changed. The most important one: I love it just the same.
Racing at the World Championships as a professional athlete felt the same as all the others - only with a little bit more camera coverage, external excitement, international friends and praise around me - inside, it was no different.
I remained exploring (chasing!) my outer limits and inner-strength with curiosity. It continued to be a celebration of this body, this mind, the process. The very thing that fogs my goggles with tears as my toes dip in the water with the 10 second countdown to the gun. Gratitude.
11 years later, across the world, my mom and dad captured this blurry, camera-phone moment - and I love it because of that (scroll to the bottom).
They were the ones who pushed my curiosity. Despite qualifying as a professional athlete for the first time, I actually hadn’t planned on going. The combination of travel-fatigue, book-intensity, finances, traveling solo and doing A LOT - I had declined my invitation.
It wasn’t until my mom texted me: “ when would I ever be able to go on a trip with you?”
The text held a lot. My mom, 20 years after conquering cancer for the first time (and later, the second), in 2021 learned her cancer metastasized. You’d never imagine by looking at her that she is battling a full-body fight - but each day she is - and we are uncertain for how much longer.
I knew, if I didn’t take this trip with her, I’d always wonder what if I had.
Two weeks before the race I emailed Xterra to get in after registration closed. I bought our tickets. I found the last AirBnB’s left. I scrambled and gathered with urgency that I’m all too familiar with yet embarrassingly too skilled at doing, and we fully committed to this race. The next week, my dad having fomo decided to jump in too.
When racing, it hit me.
My parents hadn’t watched me do a triathlon in 10 years. They hadn’t seen me race since college.
In almost every way, I was the same racer in their eyes. I felt like the same little girl at a summer league swim meet - full heart and focus, my parents cheers distinctly heard from the sideline.
[Shit. I won’t pretend the travels were a breeze and our relationship is smooth. Moments of this trip were hard. Yet despite it all, despite the challenges - my athletic pursuit and their unconditional support has never been a question.]
This race, from the outside many might have seen a professional athlete, but inside - I was the same young competitor and girl.
My intentions no different, my thought process the same, my heartfelt approach steadfast, and curiosity-driven force. The nostalgic, familiar sounds of their “go Amanda”’s, pride exuding. This race was much more than my first world level elite debut, it was the full-circle coming of having my parents by my side 24 years later since my first swim meet - still supporting me, still believing me, still encouraging my pursuits and passions.
Perhaps it’s because of that I hope every kid, every little girl like myself, realizes their potential. That they can have someone out there that believes and encourages their pursuit alike.
Perhaps I’m extra emotional after seeing how many women are continuing these pursuits into adulthood, motherhood, the 78 y/o who raced Xterra and Kona the next week no different from the youth race I cheered for after my own. It’s moments like these where I hold such fortune that along my 28 years of racing I had individuals who instilled and fostered belief in myself, for sport.
Moments like these perpetuate a constant strengthening of my own ‘why’, of what drives me to coach and mentor current young athletes in developing their own self - it’s what got me here.
And by “here”, I don’t mean the the physical starting line. I mean 24 years later still doing it for the love of it.
Of continuing to do it with courageous devotion and bold self-respect. To begin and pursue despite uncertainty. Driven my curiosity for what’s possible. By the sliver of potential capability we grasp tightly inside ourselves. To meet yourself at the exploration of outer limits - a sacred place of self-examination and knowing. Out of developed self-appreciattion, and radical celebration of ourselves and the support that is required at our side.
