9:20 PM, Thursday: A Day to Remember
It’s Thursday evening, and the rain hasn’t let up for hours. I just returned from swim practice, drenched to the bone but glowing with pride. Today was not about performance. It wasn’t about setting a personal best or crushing the training set. It was about discipline. It was about winning that quiet battle inside my head. And today, I won.
My day began with an early rise, followed by weight training. But even before the dumbbells came out, I carved out space for meditation. That moment of stillness, of centering, set the tone for the entire day. In the silence, new ideas surfaced. Ideas about my personal projects, Sunny Valley, and how to align more of my life with purpose.
After that, I threw myself into work. The hours passed swiftly, packed with meetings and deadlines. By mid-afternoon, I was physically tired but mentally buzzing.
Then came the rain.
As the skies darkened and thunder rolled in, an all-too-familiar voice started whispering.
“It’s raining. Just skip today’s session. You deserve a break. Everyone else is probably bailing too.”
And it was right. In our training group chat, most of my teammates had already messaged to say they weren’t coming. The swimming pool would be practically empty.
That’s when the real training began—not in the pool, but in my mind. Would I give in to the comfort of staying dry, or stay true to the promise I made to myself?
I chose to honor the promise.
I booked a Grab bike, pulled on my rain jacket, and rode through the downpour to the pool.
When I arrived, I was greeted by the empty stillness of the swimming pool. Only five of us showed up. Five swimmers in the entire pool. Not just from my team—from all the training groups combined.
My coach gave us a nod of respect. We were the ones who showed up. And that, already, felt like a small victory.
The swim training was tough. It started with a mix of breath-holding drills, high-intensity sprints, and form corrections. The focus today was technique—especially improving my breathing, head-turning, and arm-leg coordination.
There were kicking drills that left my legs burning, followed by freestyle intervals where we had to put everything together—technique, breath control, endurance, and pace.
It wasn’t glamorous. It wasn’t easy. But it was real. It was gritty. It was growth.
What made the night even more special was meeting two fellow teammates who will be racing with me in August. We’re forming a relay team for the Tri-Factor Triathlon: I’ll cycle, one friend will swim, and another will run.
There’s something so joyful about training for a race as a team. Triathlon is often seen as an individual sport, but when you train and compete with others, it transforms into something more: a shared mission, a joint effort. It becomes a celebration of community, not just competition.
That race in August will be a test—yes, of fitness—but more so of our connection and our mutual commitment. And it will be the perfect stepping stone before my big race in November.
On the ride home, the rain was still falling steadily. My helmet was soaked, my shoes squishy, but inside I felt warm and fulfilled. Not because I swam fast. But because I showed up.
That small act of showing up despite discomfort? That is where strength is forged.
I couldn’t help but reflect on how training mirrors life and work so closely. In business, in love, in our personal dreams—there will always be currents, challenges, and moments where others drop out. Where you’re tempted to say, “Just this once, I won’t try.”
But growth only happens when you lean in.
I thought of the choppy water in triathlon races. Of arms flailing, feet kicking, the sting of chlorine in my eyes. Of how I used to feel overwhelmed by all of it. But now, I’m learning to stay calm. To stay strong. To flow through the chaos with determination, not force.
Discipline, I’m learning, is not about being hard. It’s about being consistent.
Training for a triathlon isn’t just about getting faster. It’s about building mental resilience. It’s about shaping a mindset that serves you in every area of life.
Some days, I lose the battle against my inner chatter. But most days, I win. And on those days, I am fucking proud of myself.
This was one of those days.
This weekend, I’m excited to meet friends I haven’t seen in a while. Both online and offline, I’m reconnecting with people who bring light and inspiration to my life.
And I’m especially pumped to continue building Sunny Valley. This personal project is a home for purpose and peace. It’s where stories like this one live and breathe.
I want Sunny Valley to become a space where people can find calm, courage, and clarity. Whether you’re a student seeking direction, a professional feeling burnt out, or an athlete chasing goals—there’s something here for you.
There’s a phrase I love: blissfully dissatisfied. That’s how I feel about life right now.
I’m deeply grateful for everything I have—the ability to train, to build my dream project, to be surrounded by inspiring people. And yet, I still want more. Not in a greedy way. But in a purposeful way.
I want to keep growing, keep learning, keep pushing. Not because I’m not enough. But because I am enough—and enough is the perfect place to grow from.
It will rain again.
Life will offer many more opportunities to either turn back or show up. To retreat or move forward. To complain or to commit.
And on those days, I hope I remember tonight.
The rain, the resistance, the ride home. The joy of keeping my promise to myself.
Because those are the days that shape us. Not the sunny ones.
Not the perfect ones.
But the rainy days.
The days we show up anyway.
And if you, too, are on a journey—training for a race, launching a project, changing careers, or just trying to show up for your life—remember this:
You don’t have to be the fastest. Or the strongest.
You just have to keep showing up.
That’s where the magic happens.
That’s how you become proud of yourself.
