Endurance sports are seen as a test of physical extremes. In truth, they are a test of patience, consistency, and heart.
Decked out in swim trunks and scuba-style goggles, I leapt into the quiet pool at my local community center. I had always felt like a mermaid when I moved through water, so swimming my goal of 300 meters — roughly 12 laps in a typical rec center pool — seemed like a breeze.
Just 25 meters in, I found myself standing up in the middle of the lane. Though reminiscent of a magical sea creature’s movement, my technique — no arms, all legs and hips — made me miserable.
It was humbling. But I pushed myself to carry on.
This was three weeks before my first triathlon in 2011, an event I signed up for on a whim just the day prior. At the time, my internal encyclopedia about the sport was mostly derived from watching replays of Chrissie Wellington compete at Ironman World Championships in Kailua-Kona, Hawai'i. As I marveled over those recaps, I thought to myself, I could totally do a triathlon. OK, maybe not an Ironman (yet) — but I could swim and run, and I had a Schwinn mountain bike from Walmart.
Despite that early hiccup in the pool, I ended up placing third in my division on race day in Rockwall, Texas. From that moment onward, I knew I wanted more.
Triathlon has been a rollercoaster for me. Over the years, I have had the privilege of competing at three world championships in Montréal, Hamburg, and Málaga, Spain, and I was recently invited to the T100 World Championship. The highs — winning races, becoming a state and regional champion, qualifying for Team USA — have been elating. But they’ve been accompanied by painful lows — injuries, depression, the sting of feeling like I had fallen short.
Every season, every race, and every comeback has taught me lessons that go far beyond sport. Lessons that I believe anyone, whether or not you ever toe a start line, can take with them.
7 Life Lessons I’ve Learned In My 15 Years as a Competitive Triathlete
1. Mindset matters more than you think.
During that first pool workout, I wanted to throw in the towel (figuratively and literally), but I told myself to keep showing up. That decision — to keep believing in myself even when the evidence suggested I do otherwise — was the first real endurance victory of my career.
Years later, I found myself on a bigger stage. I had scraped together coins to afford my first national championship race in Milwaukee. My family had traveled from all over to support me. Then, I woke up with the flu and strep throat. The pain in my body was real. But the louder battle was in my head. Do I give in? Do I stop? Do I let everyone down? I chose to start, but my body gave me little in return. The race ended in heartbreak.
That day taught me that endurance sports are not just about physical toughness. They require the ability to shift your self-talk. Instead of saying I cannot, you practice saying, What if I can? Instead of thinking, I’m exhausted, you reframe it as, I’m still moving. Mindset doesn’t erase discomfort, but it changes what discomfort means.
In life, just like in sport, the loudest voice is often the one inside your head. The more you practice shaping that voice, the further you will go.
2. Consistency is king.
In 2015, after a severe hip injury had kept me out of the game for years, I came back determined to make it to nationals. That first race back was not flashy, but I gave everything I had and earned my spot. Each race onward felt like preparation for something bigger. Nothing looked heroic. It was the steady grind of daily training that built me back.
This is the reality. People often have the misconception that endurance sports are about big, dramatic efforts. Really, they’re built on ordinary days stacked on top of each other. Consistency is what carried me to state and regional championships. It is what gave me the confidence to say, I could make Team USA.
I’ve also seen what happens when consistency breaks down. In 2016, I wrote on my vision board, “I will make Team USA.” But when depression and anxiety hit, I skipped training, avoided travel, and even missed nationals entirely. No single workout could fix that gap. What was missing was the quiet, steady, daily work that builds momentum. In sport and in life, consistency builds trust with yourself and with the goals you are chasing.
3. Recovery is training.
Early in my career, I thought rest days were for the weak. I wore overtraining like a badge of honor, piling on more miles and double sessions because I believed fatigue meant progress. Then came the injuries. Then came the burnout. I learned the hard way that overtraining does not make you stronger. It breaks you down.
In 2012, I injured my hip so badly that I was sidelined for years. At the time, it felt devastating. In hindsight, the injury was an opportunity to learn one of the most valuable lessons: recovery is training. It’s the moment when your body adapts to the stress you put it through. Without recovery, there is no growth. Now, I guard my recovery as fiercely as I guard my workouts. It’s one of the most overlooked skills in endurance sports and in life — learning when to push and when to pause.
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4. You can’t pour from an empty cup.
Triathlons involve swimming, biking, and running. But there is a fourth discipline every endurance athlete has to master: fueling. You can have the best training in the world, but if you do not fuel properly, your body will not make it through.
I’ve experienced this first-hand. In one race, I underestimated the heat and skipped a fueling station because I felt good in the moment. A few miles later, I was dizzy, nauseous, and crawling to the finish. It was not a lack of fitness. It was a lack of fuel.
Learning to fuel is both science and art. You have to understand your body’s needs, experiment in training, and respect the role of carbohydrates, electrolytes, and hydration in performance. But it’s also about humility, realizing you cannot out-tough your physiology.
Fueling is a lesson in preparation, patience, and listening to your body. If you want to push hard, you have to give yourself what you need to keep going.
5. There’s no way to fake preparation.
Race day is a mirror. Whatever you did, or did not do, in training will show up. That can be humbling, but it is also empowering. If you put in the work, you can trust your body to rise to the occasion. And if you skipped the work, no amount of wishful thinking will close the gap.
I remember a race after I had cut corners in my swim training. I told myself my cycling and running fitness would carry me. The moment I hit the open water, reality caught up. No amount of toughness could replace the laps I had skipped. There is no hiding on race day.
In life and sport, preparation is not glamorous. It’s waking up early, hitting the pool when you would rather sleep, doing the strength session even when it’s not your favorite. It’s the quiet work behind the scenes that no one claps for. But it all shows up when the gun goes off.
6. Community makes the journey sustainable.
At first glance, triathlon looks like a solo pursuit. You train alone. You race alone. You cross the finish line alone. The truth is, no one gets through this sport alone.
When I returned to racing in 2019, after years of absence and doubt, it was the community who reminded me who I was. I podiumed in my first race back. Weeks later, I received the coveted “You have qualified” email for nationals. I ran into the other room to share the news, only to have my then-partner dismiss me, saying, “Remember, you aren’t good enough.”
That moment crushed me, but my training friends and chosen family reminded me of my worth. They celebrated for me when I could not celebrate myself. There have been mornings when I did not want to train, but knowing a friend was waiting for me at the pool got me there. There have been races where a simple cheer from the crowd lit a fire I did not know I still had. Even in my darkest seasons, community is what pulled me back to the sport.
Community comes with accountability, joy, and connection. It turns something grueling (whether it’s a training block or a work project) into something meaningful and keeps you going when the grind feels endless.
7. Discomfort is a teacher — not a punishment.
There is no way to avoid discomfort in endurance sports. At some point, your muscles will ache, your lungs will burn, and your mind will scream at you to stop. Early on, I saw discomfort as punishment, as something to dread. Over time, I realized it was one of the greatest teachers.
When I finally left that unhealthy relationship in 2020, the process was deeply uncomfortable. It was not the kind of pain you can time on a stopwatch, but it was endurance all the same. The lessons I had learned from racing — lean into discomfort, don’t run from it — showed me how to rebuild.
Yes, discomfort shows you where your limits are, but it also shows you that those limits are not fixed. It invites you to step past them, little by little. Every time you lean into discomfort instead of running from it, you grow. Now, when discomfort shows up, I don’t fight it. I thank it. Because it means I am in the middle of becoming someone stronger.
The Bottom Line: Everyone Is an Endurance Athlete
What you gain from endurance sports is not just speed or strength but also a deeper understanding of who you are. Every stroke, every pedal, every step teaches you that growth comes from showing up, not from being perfect.
But the skill of endurance is not found only in competitive triathletes. It’s in all of us.
It’s the voice that says, Keep going, when life feels heavy. It’s the courage to start again after failure. It’s the quiet confidence that you can do hard things. Whether you’re in the throes of marathon training or a heavy season of life, you are stronger than you think. The finish line is only the beginning.
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Jude McCarthy is the group fitness manager at Equinox Gold Coast in Chicago and an endurance coach with more than 14 years of experience in the fitness industry. He has spent the last eight years growing his career at Equinox, leading and mentoring instructors while creating dynamic, inclusive training experiences for members.
Jude holds a Bachelor of Science in biology with a minor in chemistry and is certified as an NCCPT Personal Trainer, AFAA Primary Group Fitness Instructor, USA Triathlon Level 1 Coach, USA Track & Field Level 1 Coach, 200-hour Yoga Instructor, Kettlebell Coach, Schwinn Indoor Cycling Instructor, Zumba Instructor, and Strength and Conditioning Coach. He is currently pursuing his Pilates Mat Certification.
Jude was named Fitness Idol at Dallas Mania in 2017 and has presented internationally at the MOVE Convention. As a competitive triathlete, he has represented Team USA at multiple world championship events and is passionate about helping others push past limits and discover their strength.
Photos courtesy of Jude McCarthy.