Maine IM 70.3 was supposed to be my fastest swim to date. 

Not only did I train for this in the pool with hand paddles for the first time, I also added additional open water swims into my training. I was certain on race morning that I was going to be the fastest swimmer in my age group. Instead it was my slowest swim ever for an IM race. Even slower pace per 100m than my full Los Cabos 140.6.

So what the fuck went wrong? 

EVERYTHING. Zoom into my eyeball in this picture of the blog and check what happens when you swim with a leaking goggle for 1.2 miles in the Atlantic Ocean. 

It’s amazing the hours you dedicate into training for one day of glory. If you miss on one detail you can throw away the entire race! With each race I learn so much. For anybody out there reading this… the only way for progress is to learn from your failures and go out there and increase the efforts. One day you will get it all right. Until that day, keep pushing; keep testing your limits, as you will only crush goals. 

That eyeball hurt like a motherfucker all day, I am not going to lie to you. I had troubles keeping it open for portions of the bike ride. Yet, I want to point out the man in yellow cap behind me. Yellow cap means Physically Challenged and you may notice he is tethered to another man. The man behind me is blind. 

The blind triathlete has to complete the entire race going through two transitions and three sports, trusting another human entirely for guidance with each step, spin, and stroke.  Just plunging into cold 55F degree’s Maine water temperatures with waves, current and other triathletes would be enough to send anybody into a panic attack!  The swim is generally the toughest of the three legs for most triathlete and this man did it without the sense of sight.  Running and jumping into dark, cold water with no sight, I was terrified with my sight.

So the next time you feel pain or are terrified. Ask yourself - is my health in danger? If the answer is no, harden the fuck up and keep going.


Esther Collinetti