Finding Joy in the Miles: Why Triathlon Matters When the World Feels Heavy

It's a heavy world, do endurance sports even matter?

The world is heavy right now.

You know it. I know it. We all feel it—that persistent weight that settles in our chest when we scroll through the news, when we think about what's happening beyond our immediate reach, when we lie awake at night wondering about the future.

And here we are, talking about swim splits and bike watts and run paces. Planning our next race. Obsessing over whether to do another interval session or take a rest day. It can feel trivial, even absurd. While so much suffering exists in the world, we're out there voluntarily suffering through hill repeats.

I've felt this tension. Maybe you have too.

The Oxygen Mask Principle

But here's what I've come to understand: putting on your own oxygen mask first isn't selfish—it's necessary. You know the safety briefing on every flight. You have to secure your own mask before helping others. Not because you matter more, but because you can't help anyone if you're unconscious.

Training is my oxygen mask. Racing is my oxygen mask. The early morning swims in the dark, the long bike rides where my mind finally quiets, the runs where I remember what my body can do—this is how I stay present, how I stay capable, how I stay human.

Hammer in those tent stakes ladies <3

Hammering in the Stakes

Think about setting up camp in a storm. Before you can rest, before you can help your tentmates, before you can do anything else, you have to hammer in your tent stakes. You have to create that one small space of stability and shelter. Otherwise, everything gets swept away.

Our training is hammering in those stakes. Each workout is a stake driven into the ground, saying: I'm still here. I'm still strong. I'm not letting the wind take me.

It's not about escaping reality. It's about creating enough stability within ourselves that we can face reality without breaking.

The Humanity in the Hurt

There's something deeply human about endurance sports. We push ourselves to the edge of what we can bear—not because we have to, but because we choose to. We learn what we're made of in those miles. We discover that we're stronger than we thought, and also more fragile. We find out that we can keep going even when we want to stop.

And then—and this is the important part—we help each other do it.

The training partner who shows up at 5 AM because you both promised you would. The stranger who hands you water at mile 20. The entire pack of cyclists who take turns pulling into the headwind. The fellow racer who says "you've got this" when you're about to quit. The person on the sidelines ringing a cowbell and screaming encouragement for people they'll never meet.

This is how we cope. This is how we support each other. This is how we remind ourselves what humanity looks like.

Still showing up for each other

Community in Motion

In a world that often feels fractured and isolated, the triathlon community is a place where we still show up for each other. We celebrate each other's PRs and commiserate over each other's DNFs. We share nutrition strategies and chafe prevention tips and the mental tricks that get us through the dark moments.

We see each other—really see each other—at our most vulnerable. Soaked and shivering at the swim start. Grimacing on the bike. Shuffling through those final miles when our bodies are begging us to stop. And we don't judge. We understand. We've been there.

That matters. God, does that matter.

Joy Isn't Trivial

Finding joy isn't trivial. It's survival.

The world needs people who can still find joy, who can still push themselves toward something difficult and beautiful, who can still believe that effort matters and community matters and showing up matters.

Every time we lace up our running shoes or clip into our pedals or dive into the water, we're making a choice. We're choosing to be alive, not just exist. We're choosing to feel something, even if it's the burn in our lungs or the ache in our legs. We're choosing to be part of something bigger than ourselves.

finish line hugs still mean something in a crazy world

Moving Forward

So no, I don't think triathlon is trivial. Not when the world is heavy.

I think it's one of the ways we carry that weight without being crushed by it. I think it's one of the ways we find each other and hold each other up. I think it's one of the ways we practice being human—vulnerable and strong, struggling and persevering, alone in our pain but together in our purpose.

The world needs us to be okay so we can help make things better. And if swimming and biking and running—if this beautiful, painful, ridiculous sport—is what keeps us okay? Then it's not trivial at all.

It's essential.

So hammer in those tent stakes. Put on your oxygen mask. Get out there and find your miles and your people. Find your joy, protect it, share it.

The world is heavy. But we're still here, moving forward, one stroke and one pedal and one step at a time.

Together.