The Race where the pressure nearly Broke Me
Letting Go
Today is the 18th of June 2025.
It’s been 269 days since the Ironman World Championship in Nice. Two hundred and sixty-nine days.
A long time since race day, and if I want to fully move on, I need to write this down. I’ve carried the weight of this chapter for far too long , the pressure, the shame, the overthinking. This post has been sat in my drafts for months ….
The Roll-Down Moment
When I accepted my roll-down slot for the Ironman World Championship in Nice 2024, I felt everything all at once. Shock. Nerves. A bit of excitement. But mostly, pressure. And that pressure stayed with me for an entire year.
I had just finished Ironman Chattanooga ‘23 in 15 hours. It was my fourth Iron-distance race, and I did it solo. From packing my bike to walking into athlete briefing alone, I handled everything myself. I felt proud of that. It wasn’t fast, but it was solid, and I had done what I set out to do.
The next morning at the athlete breakfast, they called my name. I said yes straight away. I posted about it openly. I didn’t pretend. I was genuinely excited.
The Year That Nearly Broke Me
But the backlash came quickly. People said I didn’t deserve it. That I was too slow. That it was embarrassing. I tried to ignore it, but the words stuck. They lived rent-free in my head through every run, every ride, every swim.
What followed was a full year of pressure. Not a training block. Not a season. A whole year of trying to prove I belonged. Every session felt like it had to count. Every rest day felt like guilt. I thought if I just trained harder, or leaned up, or pushed through more pain, maybe I’d finally feel worthy of that slot.
And somewhere along the way, I stopped enjoying it. I told people I do this for fun — but 2024 wasn’t fun.
It was heavy. Lonely. At times, miserable. I had fallouts with people I care about — friends, family, even my coach. I became closed off. Tense. Constantly on edge. And deep down, I felt completely alone.
Race Week in Nice
Nice should have felt like a reward. The scenery, the energy, the ocean , it was all beautiful. But I couldn’t enjoy it properly. I was exhausted and anxious. It felt like everything I had carried all year was peaking in that one week.
Then came race day.
A PB, a Crash, and a Hard Call
Surprisingly, I had a great swim. It was my first ocean swim, and I swam a personal best. For a few moments, I actually felt strong again.
Then came the bike. The climbs were tough, the descents sharp , and I crashed.
I don’t even fully remember what happened. One minute I was riding. The next, I was on the ground. Bleeding. Bruised. Shaken. A medic helped clean me up and asked if I wanted to stop. I said no. I got back on and kept going.
Eventually, at the next checkpoint, I knew I couldn’t continue. My body was done. I got taken to the medical tent where they properly cleaned me up and made sure I was okay.
I didn’t finish.
Relief in the Heartbreak
It still hurt. But there was also this strange sense of relief. The pressure finally snapped. I no longer had to prove anything. The year-long weight I’d been carrying had finally lifted , even if it came at a cost.
For months afterward, I kept questioning it all. Did I waste the slot? Was everyone right? Am I just not good enough?
A Conversation That Shifted Everything
Earlier this week, I spoke to a colleague about all of it for the first time in a while. He listened without judgment. And he reminded me of something I hadn’t seen clearly in a long time.
He said no one can take away what I’ve done. That getting to Nice was still an achievement. That I should look back on how far I’ve come , not just where I stopped.
And he’s right.
Choosing to Close the Chapter
I trained through doubt. I showed up. I got back on the bike after crashing. I made the hard call when I needed to. That takes strength too.
This wasn’t the fairytale finish I imagined. But it’s still my story.
And today, I’m choosing to let go. I’m choosing to stop carrying the guilt and the what-ifs. I’m choosing to believe that showing up, even imperfectly, still matters.
I didn’t cross the finish line in Nice.
But this isn’t where my story ends.
I’m still here , still showing up.
And you haven’t seen the last of me.
Love ,
Gabi x
Hi Gabi, I enjoyed reading your post since my search on people who’ve done Boston Marathon led me to.
Your friend is so right; all of us atheletes / runners always have a race or two that we broke down. But that courage in preparation, training, show up and in any unfortunate event making a hard call to DNF still make us proud. Forgive yourself, we are human after all. We make mistakes. We feel proud of our effort and achievement again.
Give yourself a big pat on your shoulder. And we move on for another challenge. :o)