Ironman 70.3 Frankfort Race Recap: The Brutal Lessons I Learned

This past weekend I raced the 70.3 Ironman in Frankfort, Michigan. It was one of the hardest physical — and ultimately mental — tests I’ve ever put myself through, and one of the best reminders of why I chase challenges like this (or maybe why I shouldn’t 😆). Funny enough, this course handed me more lessons than the 70.3 I raced in June at Happy Valley, PA — and that course was technically tougher on paper.

What I got in Frankfort was raw, humbling, and unforgettable.

The Swim — 1.2 Miles of Chaos

I seeded myself in the 30–33 minute pace group and went off at 8:04. The first 400 meters felt strong and smooth. Then came the chaos.

We funneled into a floating inflatable bridge setup — about 12 feet long, 5 feet high — and everyone bottlenecked. Sight lines disappeared, bodies were stacked on top of each other, and I had to constantly sight just to stay on track. Getting kicked, slapped, and basically punched mid-swim is something you can’t train for in the pool. That constant sighting broke my rhythm and burned extra energy.

Around 500–600m in, the real fight started. My wetsuit locked tight, no water flow, and I started hyperventilating. If you’ve been there, you know — panic in open water is a whole different animal. I’ve had this happen in the past, but never mid-race.

I got my shit together and finished, but my goal of a sub-33 swim was gone. I left the water pissed off and frustrated, carried that into T1, and hammered a sub-3 minute transition.

The Bike — Redemption and Rookie Mistakes

The bike was my redemption ride. First time racing a TT bike at this distance, and I put down a personal best: 2:46. I felt fast, tucked, and strong almost the entire ride. For a while, I was having fun out there.

But here’s where the rookie in me showed up: I traded speed for fueling. I didn’t train enough eating and drinking while staying aero. My hydration bladder was empty by mile 30. I grabbed one bottle at an aid station, slammed it, and kept going. That was it.

In the moment, I felt unstoppable. But I paid for it on the run.

The Run — Where the Race Broke Me

The forecast said 70s. Reality? Pushing 80, no clouds, and the sun beating down. By the time I hit the run, my tank was empty. No water, no nutrition, nothing left.

By mile 2, I was in survival mode. Head pounding, stomach wrecked, body screaming to quit. Every aid station became a lifeline — ice, water, whatever it took to keep moving. I had to resort to run/walk cadences, seeking out scraps of shade wherever the course offered them.

It was brutal. The run humbled me. And the truth is, I didn’t respect it.

The Lessons That Stick

Swim: Chaos will happen. Control the breathing. Adjust faster.
Bike: Confidence builder. But fueling isn’t optional — speed means nothing if you can’t run.
Run: Nutrition and hydration aren’t just part of the plan; they are the plan.

But the biggest takeaway? Growth lives where shit gets hard.

Beyond the Finish Line

These races aren’t just about endurance. They’re about discipline, alignment, and mindset. Training for a 70.3 — the early mornings, the long rides, the setbacks — carries over into every other part of my life. Professionally and personally, the lessons are the same:

Stay calm when chaos hits.
Don’t trade short-term speed for long-term success.
Resilience is built in survival mode.
Push boundaries relentlessly.

Final Reminder

Drink your damn water. Push your limits. And don’t quit when shit gets hard. Comfort zones don’t build strength — the grind does.

I didn’t hit every goal this weekend. But I walked away stronger, hungrier, and ready to go again.

Back at it tomorrow.