§ 02 · triathlete

The triathlete

Half-Ironman (70.3) finisher. I race across sprint, olympic, and 70.3 distances. For me, endurance is a discipline of attention — and a longevity practice. Not a weekend hobby.

Why it’s on this site

I considered leaving this off. A personal site full of credentials and company logos tells a thin story, though. How someone trains, fails, adjusts, and shows up again says more about how they work than any line on a CV. Triathlon is my plainest public record of that, so it stays.

What I race

Sprint, olympic, and 70.3 — the half-Ironman distance. A 70.3 is a 1.9 km swim, a 90 km ride, and a half-marathon to close. That finish is the anchor I hold in my head when work gets long. The full Ironman is a goal I haven’t ticked off yet.

Why I do it

Endurance training looks like a different discipline from law or company-building, but it isn’t. The same things matter: showing up on the days you don’t want to, trusting a long plan over a short one, taking honest feedback from the clock instead of telling yourself a story. The hours in the pool, on the bike, and on the run are where I rehearse the patience the rest of my work asks for.

The longer game

The thing triathlon really opened up for me is longevity — the slightly unromantic question of how to keep a body and a mind that still work in forty years, not just in forty kilometers. Most of what makes someone fast at thirty-five turns out to be what keeps them functional at seventy-five: aerobic base, strength, sleep, nutrition, recovery, time outdoors, real attention to inflammation and stress load. At some point you stop separating “training” from “life maintenance,” because they end up being the same thing.

I’m probably more interested in this than is reasonable for a lawyer, but the same instinct that pulls me toward long-form podcasts and long-horizon investing pulls me here. Compounding works in a body the same way it works on a cap table — small consistent inputs, a long enough horizon, and the patience not to interrupt it.