Category: Our Stories

by Darrell Myrick

The Breakdown

It’s June 3rd, a little over three months until the 2022 Ironman World Championship in Kona, triathlon’s most prestigious race. I’m halfway up Glendora Mountain Road on my road bike, and my legs are failing me. My heart rate is well above the ceiling my cardiologist set, and I can’t push another turn of the pedals. I put a foot down and collapse onto my handlebars, sweating and gasping for air.

Glendora Mountain is one of Southern California’s iconic climbs — eight miles of 4–8% grade. For years, it was a route I treated as a warmup before long days in the San Gabriel Mountains.

But on this day, I can’t finish it.

Earlier that week I had also struggled through a two-mile run and cut short a swim. A quiet panic begins to build as I picture the Kona race on the horizon.

This isn’t who I’ve been. I had open-heart mitral valve repair surgery at the end of January. I’ve followed the rehab plan, taken the medications, and rebuilt carefully under my cardiologist’s supervision. By now, I thought I’d be climbing strong again.

Hunched over my bike, I’m forced to confront a difficult question: how do I reconcile my identity as an endurance athlete with a body that feels fragile and unpredictable?

The Backstory

I qualified for Kona in June 2021 at Ironman Coeur d’Alene. The race was later postponed due to the pandemic, delaying what had felt like a rare opportunity.

For years I had known I had a faulty mitral valve. It became impossible to ignore when I collapsed at Ironman Santa Rosa after going into A-Fib. Doctors diagnosed a moderately leaking valve but initially recommended monitoring since I was still performing well.

Three months after qualifying for Kona, I failed on the run at the Arizona Half Ironman when my heart rate spiraled out of control. That moment made the situation clear. I could no longer dismiss what was happening.

Surgery became unavoidable.

Shortly before my scheduled surgery date, I contracted COVID, which forced a postponement. By the time I underwent open-heart mitral valve repair at the end of January, my condition had worsened. Complications followed — recurring A-Fib episodes and heart rates in the 150s — leading to a 13-day hospital stay. Recovery would require patience, medical supervision, and a reset of expectations.

By February, Kona in October still felt distant enough to aim toward. I committed to rehabilitation cautiously, understanding that progress would need to be gradual and closely monitored.

Related post: I Found ‘Athlete’ In The Words ‘Heart Health’ – David Conover’s Story

Identity, Aging, and Doubt

Returning to training wasn’t only about racing. It was about returning to the discipline of what I call “The Ironman Lifestyle.” This approach to life has shaped much of my adult life. Endurance sport has required structure — sleep, nutrition, balance — and it has helped stabilize both my physical and mental health.

Progress, however, came slowly.

Another bout of COVID delayed consistent training until June. By then, I was twenty pounds heavier, detrained, and easily winded. Even walking pushed my heart rate into the 100s.

For the first time, I wondered whether my 66-year-old body would respond the way it once had. I had always trusted that steady work would produce improvement. Now, after weeks of effort, the gains were minimal.

The psychological strain weighed heavily. Physical activity had long been my safeguard against depression. Without measurable progress, doubts crept in.

Thankfully, I wasn’t alone. My family and triathlon friends believed in me when I struggled to believe in myself. Their steady encouragement kept me moving forward, even when results lagged behind effort.

Resetting the Goal

While still in the hospital, I had established three goals:

1. Regain full mobility and daily function.
2. Complete an Ironman.
3. Perform competitively in an Ironman again.

By mid-summer, I had achieved the first goal. It became clear that chasing peak competitiveness this season was unrealistic. I shifted my focus to finishing Kona.

That adjustment brought relief. Instead of comparing myself to previous performances, I focused on building enough endurance to complete the race safely and within the allotted time.

In August, progress finally began to show. I lost weight, extended workouts, and recovered more consistently. With the help of training partners, I completed a 100-mile ride, an 18-mile run, and multiple 2.5-mile swims. They weren’t fast — but they were sufficient.

Race Week in Kona

I arrived in Kona six days before the race, joined by my wife and eight friends who made the trip to support me. Their presence felt like a reminder of how fortunate I was simply to stand on the starting line.

On race morning, I found a quiet place before my wave start and reflected on what had brought me there: being alive, having a supportive family, and being healthy enough to attempt one of the most demanding endurance events in the world.

When the horn sounded, the day began.

The Bike: Managing the Effort

The swim was steady and uneventful. On the bike, I deliberately held back — riding about five miles per hour below the pace I would have targeted in previous years. Conservation was critical.

Around mile 100, climbing toward the scenic overlook on the Queen K Highway out of Waikoloa, fatigue caught up with me. A headwind and rising heat drained my legs. My nutrition stopped digesting properly, and nausea set in.

The final miles were about preservation. Speed no longer mattered. Forward progress did.

The Run: One Mile at a Time

In transition, I sat briefly and asked the only question that mattered: Did I have enough left to finish within the cutoff?

I realized I could think just as clearly while walking. So I stood up and began moving.

The first couple miles were slow — mostly walking. Anyone tracking online could see I was close to the time limit.

A few miles in, teammates met me on the course and told me the pace I needed to maintain. I settled into a controlled walk/jog rhythm, carefully monitoring effort to avoid pushing beyond safe limits.

At mile 18, I recognized something encouraging: I was slightly ahead of schedule. I could finish even with steading walking.

Relief replaced anxiety. The task became simple — keep moving.

The Finish Line

Turning onto Ali’i Drive, I heard the unmistakable voice of the longtime Ironman announcer Mike Reilly welcoming finishers with his iconic “You Are An Ironman” call.

I don’t remember much of the final stretch. I moved in what felt like a slow shuffle up the finisher’s ramp.

At the line, I unzipped my tri suit and revealed for the photographers the scar from my open-heart surgery — not for attention, but as a quiet acknowledgment of what the previous nine months had required.

Then I collapsed.

Friends volunteering at the finish line guided me to the medical tent. After IV fluids, monitoring, and a brief visit to a trash can to relieve my unsettled stomach, I stabilized. One doctor, smiling after hearing the story, suggested I might not have been the brightest participant that day. He may not have been entirely wrong.

What the Journey Taught Me

Endurance sport often mirrors life. Both demand focus, patience, and adaptation. Neither unfolds as a steady line of personal bests.

Recovery required accepting realistic expectations rather than chasing earlier versions of myself. The challenge was not recreating the past, but discovering what remained possible.

The months between surgery and Kona were frustrating, humbling, and at times frightening. But they were also clarifying. Progress did not arrive on my preferred timeline, and success looked different than it once had.

Like life, Ironman rewards steady forward motion — however modest — especially when circumstances force you to redefine the goal.

Nine months after open-heart surgery, finishing in Kona was not about proving anything. It was about gratitude, resilience, and the quiet satisfaction of continuing when stopping would have been easier.

Have Questions or Comments for Darrell?

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By Hilary JM Topper, MPA

Deciding to train for a triathlon felt like a mix of excitement and madness. I was 53, more used to my office chair than a bike saddle, and the idea of swimming, biking, and running in one event seemed like something only for elite athletes in their twenties. Still, a spark of curiosity was ignited. I wanted a new challenge, a way to redefine what I thought was possible for myself in this new chapter of life. That journey from hesitant beginner to confident finisher taught me more than I ever expected.

The world of triathlon might seem intimidating at first, filled with images of super-fit athletes and advanced equipment. But I found a different reality—one that is welcoming, doable, and deeply rewarding, especially for those of us who start later in life. If you’re in the same place I was, wondering if you have what it takes, I want to share the five most important lessons I learned. These insights helped me reach the finish line and can help
you start your own amazing journey.

1. Triathlons Are for Every Body Type

Before I signed up for my first race, I imagined a typical triathlete as someone lean, muscular, and probably half my age. I worried I was too old, not in good enough shape, and didn’t fit that mold. This is the biggest myth I want to bust. Triathlons are open to everyone, no matter your age, weight, or current fitness level.

At my first event, I was amazed by the variety of participants. There were people of all shapes and sizes, from college students to retirees in their 70s and 80s. I saw competitors who were muscular and others who were slender. Some looked like seasoned athletes, while many, like me, appeared to be regular folks who decided to do something extraordinary. The finish line doesn’t care about your age or body type; it only cares that you showed up and did your best.

This past June, I participated in the Alpha Win Hudson Valley Triathlon. I saw an 85-year-old woman cross the finish line and receive a first-place medal. The triathlon community adopts a “finish line, not finish time” mindset, especially at the sprint and beginner levels. The focus is on participation and personal achievement. Whether you walk the entire run or swim with your head above water, completing the race is a major victory. The shared experience of pushing personal limits creates an instant bond among competitors. You’ll receive more encouragement and high-fives from strangers on the course than you might expect.

Related Post: Should You Choose Your Triathlon Distance Based On Body Type?

2. You Don’t Need All the Expensive Gear

When I committed to my first triathlon, I fell into a classic beginner’s trap: thinking I needed the best of everything to succeed. I went all in, buying a sleek, expensive carbon-fiber road bike with a power meter, a top-tier wetsuit, and every gadget the internet and my first coach told me was essential. I learned the hard way that my bank account took a much bigger hit than it needed. That fancy bike was beautiful, but it was also tough for a beginner. I spent more time worrying about scratching it than enjoying my rides. The truth is, you can complete your first triathlon using the basics. Found an old hybrid bike in your garage? Dust it off, get it tuned up, and it’ll get you through a sprint-distance race just fine. Any comfortable swimsuit will do for the pool, and a basic pair of goggles is all you need.

Start with what you have or can borrow. Focus your initial investment on a few key items that prioritize safety and comfort, such as a properly fitted helmet and a good pair of running shoes. As you progress in the sport, you can gradually upgrade your equipment. You will have a much clearer idea of what you truly need and prefer after you have a race or two under your belt. Don’t let the perceived cost of entry keep you from starting.

3. Find Your Tribe: The Power of Community

Training for a triathlon involves three different sports and doing it all alone can feel isolating and overwhelming. The most effective way I stayed motivated was by connecting with others. Finding a community, whether it’s a local tri club, a group of friends, or an online forum, can make all the difference. At first, I trained with my friend. But when she joined a triathlon club, I ended up going at it alone. Throughout my time in the sport, I found training partners and formed my own triathlon club, WeREndurance.

This “tribe” becomes your support system. They are the ones who will celebrate your progress, pick you up after a challenging workout, and cheer the loudest for you on race day. They understand the unique challenges and triumphs of this sport. If a local club isn’t an option, look for Facebook groups or other online communities. Sharing your journey, even virtually, helps keep you accountable and reminds you that you are part of
something bigger.

4. Pace Yourself in Training and in Life

As a driven person, my first instinct was to go from zero to one hundred. My kids still laugh about it.

I hired a coach who didn’t work with athletes over 50. He designed an aggressive training plan and pushed me hard every day. (If I missed a workout, he would yell at me over the phone.) Within a few weeks, I was exhausted, sore, and completely demoralized. My body was sending me clear signals that I wasn’t listening to. Learning to pace myself was an important lesson in both physical training and my mental approach. Clearly, I left that coach and found another who was more supportive and understanding of my needs.

The key to longevity in endurance sports is consistency, not constant intensity. Your body needs time to adapt and recover, especially as you get older. Rest days are essential; they are a crucial part of your training plan. This is when your muscles repair and become stronger.

Listen to your body. If you feel pain (not just discomfort), it’s a sign to back off. If you’re feeling tired, a shorter, easier workout or even a complete rest day is more beneficial than pushing through and risking injury or burnout. This patient approach allows you to build a solid fitness base without breaking your body down. You’ll arrive at the starting line healthy, strong, and genuinely excited to race.

5. Celebrate Every Small Victory Along the Way

The finish line of a triathlon can seem impossibly far away when you’re just starting out. Focusing only on that distant goal can be discouraging. Instead, I learned to focus on celebrating the small wins that happen every week. Did you swim your first nonstop lap? That’s a big victory. Did you finish your longest bike ride so far, even if it was just a few miles? Celebrate it. Did you wake up for an early morning workout when you’d rather stay in bed? Recognize that discipline. These small wins are the foundation of your journey. Every milestone, no matter how small it appears, proves you’re making progress. It builds momentum and confidence. I started keeping a training journal to record these small wins. Looking back at it after a tough day became a powerful reminder of how far I had come. This habit of acknowledging progress changes the entire process from a strenuous grind into a fulfilling adventure filled with moments of pride.

Take the Leap

About the Author

Hilary JM Topper, MPA, is a USA Triathlon Coach Level 1, USMS Swim Coach Level 3, WOWSA Open Water Swim Coach, and RRCA Run Coach Level 1. She actively blogs on ATriathletesDiary.com and maintains a lifestyle blog at HilaryTopper.com. Her first book, From Couch Potato to Endurance Athlete – A Portrait of a Non-Athletic Triathlete, was published by Meyer & Meyer Sports in 2022

Her upcoming book, Unlocking the Triathlon: A Beginner’s Guide to Competing in a Triathlon, is now available for pre-order. The book will be released during the first week of November, during which she will tour various cities across the country promoting it. For questions or to invite Hilary for a presentation at your store, contact her via email at Hilary@hjmt.com or call 516-220-3110.

Related Post: Book Review: From Couch Potato to Endurance Athlete: A Portrait of a Non-Athletic Triathlete

What Do You Want to Ask Hilary?

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For Another Perspective . . .

For another perspective on beginning triathlon after age 50, check out Terry VanderWert’s Triathlon Adventures Across America.

In 2023, I introduced readers to Joe Simonetta, who, at age 80, competed in his first-ever race of any kind—a triathlon, no less—and won gold in his age group at the National Senior Games in Pittsburgh. Read how Joe completed his first-ever triathlon at age 80: My First Race of Any Kind: Triathlon – Joe Simonetta’s Story.

Two years later, Joe returned to the National Senior Games, this time in West Des Moines, Iowa, for the 2025 edition of the triathlon—and once again, he came out on top in the Men’s 80-84 age group.

“I previously won in 2023 in Pittsburgh—so this was a successful title defense,” Joe wrote in an email following the event. While it’s easy to focus on his back-to-back gold medals, Joe’s story is about much more than podium finishes. It’s about the spirit of healthy aging, embracing new adventures later in life, and finding joy in competition and camaraderie.

Joe’s story reflects a growing movement of older adults using endurance sports not just for competition, but for purpose, health, community, and continued personal growth.

Extra Rain Forces Change

The 2025 National Senior Games’ triathlon reminded competitors of the importance of adaptability. Because of the heavy rainfall leading up to the event, the lake used for the swim leg recorded high E. coli levels. This forced race organizers to change the race, replacing the 400-meter swim with a one-mile run on a course separate from the 3.1 mile (5 km) course for the third leg of the triathlon. Fortunately, the organizers adapted quickly, making sure all participants knew the change well in advance so there was no confusion on race morning.

Therefore, the format for this triathlon became:

• 1-mile (1.6 km) run
• 12.4-mile (20 km) bike
• 3.1-mile (5 km) run

A Dry Start

Joe came to Des Moines determined to defend his 2023 win. “I had more knowledge and experience this time. I improved my swim stroke and planned to use a wetsuit for the first time.” He had also included more interval work in his run training until calf injuries slowed him down.

He also bought a quality road bike for training and racing—unlike in Pittsburgh, where he rented a less competitive bike. Other changes included racing in a tri suit and using a bib holder race belt to reduce his transition times.

The race began at 7:40 am under clear skies and cool temperatures in the high 50s. Joe described the pre-race atmosphere as calm and friendly, with athletes chatting and volunteers offering encouragement. “There was an undercurrent of excitement as we all knew we’d be starting differently than planned,” he said.

Joe admitted his disappointment at not using his swim training in this race. He was also concerned about the additional running. “Heading into the race, I was concerned about the 5k run because I had been dealing with calf injuries in both legs that had severely limited my run training.” While he had recovered from the injuries using rest, massage gun therapy, magnesium glycinate, compression sleeves, and pickle juice, he ran with greater caution.

Still, the modified format made for an interesting challenge. “It was a fast start that got everyone’s heart rate up right away,” he recalled. Joe said that he ran the 1-mile and the 5k at a conservative pace to avoid a recurrence of injury. After the race, he said that he could have run a bit faster without risking injury.

Hills, Lakes, and Tree-Lined Trails

According to Joe, the bike leg was “hilly and challenging,” featuring several long, gradual climbs that tested endurance, plus a few short, steeper sections that forced competitors to dig deep. “The downhill sections were fast and exhilarating, but you had to stay alert,” he explained. “The course was well-marked and well-monitored by volunteers and law enforcement, which made it feel safe despite the traffic on some stretches.”

The final 5-km run looped around a picturesque lake inside West Des Moines’ Raccoon River Park. Joe described it as a pleasant mix of shaded, tree-lined paths and open sections that offered sweeping lake views. “It was a beautiful setting,” he said, noting that the scenery helped distract him from fatigue during the last miles.

A Competitive But Friendly Race Atmosphere

Joe was quick to highlight the volunteers and organizers, who made the event run smoothly, even with the late change to the racecourse. “Everything was well-organized, and the staff and volunteers were friendly and responsive—both on site and via email before the event. The overall atmosphere was positive and supportive.”

This atmosphere continued throughout the race. Despite the Senior Games triathletes being serious and competitive, they were also friendly. “While everyone was pushing hard during the bike and run, words of encouragement were common.”

A Familiar Rival and a Warm Finish

At the awards ceremony, Joe was seen shaking hands with second-place finisher Rob Norris from Michigan—a fellow triathlete with whom he’s now shared three race start lines.

Joe recalled that Rob was also his main competitor in Pittsburgh in 2023. “We’ve developed a friendly rivalry,” Joe said. “Seeing familiar faces out here makes it even more enjoyable.”

That handshake wasn’t just a sportsmanlike gesture. It celebrated persistence, sportsmanship, and the connections formed through shared challenges.

A Laid-Back, Hassle-Free Venue

Joe also had high praise for West Des Moines, Iowa, as a host city. “From the easy-to-navigate Des Moines airport, to the excellent bike rental shop, to my hotel and the race venue—all close to one another—it was hassle-free.” Joe characterized West Des Moines as wholesome, open, and relaxed, with lots of green in the hillsides, forests, and cornfields.

“The people I met were friendly, and the pace of life felt more laid-back than in many places.”

Still Inspired

Joe’s performance in 2025 is impressive, but what’s more powerful is the example he continues to set. In his words, “The goal is to keep moving, keep challenging yourself, and enjoy the process.”

Whether you’re 58 or 85, getting started is always worth it. Joe’s first race was at 80. His second gold came at 82.

Joe’s story reminds us that endurance sports are not reserved for youth. New adventures, meaningful goals, and competitive joy can continue well into our 80s and beyond.

To learn more about the National Senior Games and how you can get involved, visit the official NSGA website.

Were You In Des Moines?

Let us know in the Comments if you attended the 2025 National Senior Games either as a participant, volunteer, or spectator.

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