The Race Within The Race

Triathlon isn’t three sports.

It’s one long mental negotiation disguised as fitness.

Training tells you you’re ready. Race day exists to challenge that belief.

The swim comes first, and it’s almost background noise now. Technique isn’t something I think about. Neither is the water temperature, the chaos, the bodies around me. You breathe, you sight, you move forward. You get out. Simple. Brutal. Done.

The bike is where comparison creeps in.

You’re riding strong, holding what feels like a solid pace, and then they come. The fast cyclists. They pass you like you’ve stalled. Instinct kicks in. Stay with them. Just for a bit. Ten seconds. Twenty. Thirty.

Your legs start screaming. Your breathing gets sharp. Your brain starts asking unhelpful questions.

Is this smart?

Am I about to blow the run?

Am I going to spew?

Eventually they disappear up the road and you’re left alone again. Riding. Thinking. Replaying. Wondering if you just made the race harder than it needed to be.

Then you start running.

This is where triathlon strips everything back.

There’s nowhere to hide on the run. No coasting. No easing up without consequences. Every step is feedback. Every ache has a voice. The pain shows up early and stays longer than invited.

But pain isn’t the hardest part.

The doubt is.

You start bargaining with yourself. You shrink the task. Just get to the next corner. The next aid station. The next kilometre marker. Thinking about the finish feels almost rude at this point.

Everyone else looks stronger.

You feel slow.

You wonder why you keep doing this.

And then, eventually, it ends.

You cross the line wrecked. Empty. Sometimes disappointed. Sometimes proud. Always relieved. You swear you’re done with this. That you won’t do it again.

And then, almost immediately, the thought arrives.

How do I improve for the next one?

Not if there’s a next one. How.

This Isn’t Just Racing. I See It Every Day.

I don’t just experience this mental battle in races.

I see it constantly in my work as a swim teacher and personal trainer.

I see it in:

the swimmer who freezes when a set gets hard, despite being physically capable

the adult learner who panics in the water, not from lack of ability, but loss of control

the client who wants to stop a session early, not because they can’t continue, but because discomfort feels unfamiliar

Different settings. Same struggle.

The body isn’t failing.

The head is just loud.

What I’m Really Teaching

People assume swim coaching is about technique.

They assume personal training is about strength or fitness.

That’s the surface.

What I’m actually teaching is how to stay composed when things stop feeling comfortable.

In the pool:

learning to breathe when heart rate spikes

staying relaxed when water feels overwhelming

trusting movement instead of fighting it

In the gym:

maintaining form under fatigue

not panicking when intensity rises

finishing what you started, even when your brain is looking for an exit

This isn’t about toughness.

It’s about control under pressure.

When I tell someone “you’re okay, keep going,” it’s not motivational noise. It’s lived experience. I know the difference between danger and discomfort masquerading as it.

That matters. Especially in the water. Especially for people still learning to trust themselves.

Where Inferno Fits

Inferno Training exists for that exact space. The moment where effort is required but motivation has checked out.

It’s not about chasing pain. It’s about teaching people how to function inside it.

Inferno Escapes is the next layer.

Training builds capacity.

Racing tests it.

Escaping is where you integrate it.

Inferno Escapes creates space away from clocks, comparisons, and performance pressure. Cold water. Long climbs. Fatigue without an audience. The same discomfort, but slowed down enough to actually learn from it.

You don’t escape to rest.

You escape to recalibrate.

Closing the Loop

Racing compresses suffering into a few intense hours.

Inferno Training teaches you how to endure it.

Inferno Escapes teaches you how to make sense of it.

And my coaching is where it all becomes practical.

Whether someone is learning to swim, rebuilding confidence in their body, training for an event, or just trying to get through a hard session without quitting, the lesson is the same:

You are capable of more than the moment suggests.

You just need to learn how to stay with it.

That’s Inferno Escapes.

Escape the ordinary.

Ignite your resilience.