An Iron Will: How I Started Triathlon

It’s February 2026, and I’ve been triathlon [swim, bike, run] training for nearly four years straight at this point. I’ve raced a full-distance Ironman [3.8km swim, 180km bike, and 42.2km run], four half-Ironmans, a bunch of marathons and half-marathons, and I’ve attempted the hardest bike climb in the world: Mauna Kea on the Big Island of Hawaii. 

For the 2026 triathlon season, I have big ambitions and a busy race schedule. I’m trying to qualify for the Ironman World Championships in Kona, Hawaii, which my fiancée qualified for and completed last year (I am secretly just trying to be like her). 

But how in the hell did I get here?

The call

It all started on a Saturday afternoon in late August 2022–I was away on a golf weekend with friends–and we’d just wrapped up our round of golf for the day, and settled onto a sun-soaked terrace to indulge in a few (too many) pitchers of cold beer. A few hours into the “rehydration” process after a strenuous day on the links, a phone call from my girlfriend (now fiancée), Hannah, came through. On the other end of the line was what I’ll call her ‘Hannah on a mission’ voice, who made a simple statement: 

“I’m signing up for Ironman 70.3 in Brazil; it’s on April 16, 2023. Am I signing you up, too?” To which I replied, 

Me: “Um, I guess? Sure, I’ll do it!” and she agreed she’d sign me up, told me she loved me, and let me get back to my weekend. 

When I hung up the phone, my friends sitting around the table inquired as to what the short call was about, to which I drunkenly answered, “I’m doing a half-Ironman next April in Brazil.” I gathered it was not quite the response they anticipated based on the fact that they, rightfully so, literally laughed out loud.

*Context here*

Why Brazil? Hannah’s parents and family friends (shoutout John and Karen), who introduced us to triathlon, are international teachers, and we were planning to visit them in April. 

Hannah has always kept fit, but I had just started cycling and running casually with her earlier that summer, so I was not fit AT ALL. Hannah has a background in swimming and running, and she’d ridden a bike before, and had expressed to me her goal of completing a half-Ironman to me, so a transition into triathlon was a logical one.

I, on the other hand, had peaked doing a bad job at playing local Junior B hockey years prior, carried about 35 extra pounds and had a PhD (Pint handling Diploma) in partying. I could not swim the length of a 25m pool, run farther than 7km, and struggled to bike much over 35km. Additionally, I had nowhere near as much belief in myself as Hannah had in me. So what am I saying is that I had just signed up for one hell of a 7-month training camp from September 2022 to race day in April 2023.

Sink or swim

I got home the following Sunday, riddled with anxiety about what lay ahead of me. Step one was learning to swim. I reached out to Coach Duane Jones PhD., CFC, CPT. from Ottawa’s Master Swim Club Team TechnoSport, a team I still swim with, so shoutout! I called him, explained who I was and the situation I had put myself in, to which he replied:

“1.9km swim… Never swam before…Yeah, show up 3-times per week, every week until the race, and you’ll be fine.” Doctor's orders, I signed up on the spot and was in the pool the following Sunday.

Day 1 of learning to swim, Coach Duane put me in a lane with a group of people ranging in age from 75-85, who each explained to me what heart attack, stroke, or other ailment they were recovering from as I introduced myself as their newest lane mate. I immediately thought to myself, without knowing how to swim:

“For Christ’s sake, what are these people and I doing in the same lane? Surely we’re not at the same level”. I was right, we weren’t at the same level, they were WAY BETTER than me. By lap number 2 of the 10-minute warm-up, the group of octogenarians had lapped me; the first of many humbling experiences.

By week 8 of showing up three times per week at 5:30 a.m. swim practices, I was finally able to do something that resembled swimming laps, and slowly started realizing that I would be able to complete the swim portion of the race. Now all that was left was a 90km bike and a 21.1 km run!

I still had no idea what I was doing, but I knew I needed to follow through.

2023 Ironman Florianópolis 70.3

After seven months of doing a complete 180-degree switch in lifestyle and training 6-days a week, we finally made the 8,500km trip to Brazil. We had a wonderful vacation with Hannah’s family and had completed all of the pre-race rigmarole that racing an Ironman entails. It was finally time to race.

Race morning

I woke up knowing I could complete each event individually, but having never completed a triathlon, there was still a doubting voice in my mind. In addition to doubt, I was absolutely terrified. 

To make matters worse, I lost Hannah and our friends John and Karen in the crowds of people between the transition area and the swim start, so I made my way into the swim queue, alongside 2300 other athletes, in a bit of a panic (I know, boo-hoo, I had to be a big boy and go alone). 

When I finally made it to the front of the queue [heart rate SKY high from nerves], the start horn, backed by AC/DC’s Thunderstruck, went off, and into the ocean waves I went, full sprint. 

[Ah, yes, I forgot to mention the 1.9km swim of my first race was in a very rough ocean.]

 The swim, bike and run went well. Considering my racing experience and level of fitness, I’d done great. 

In the last few kilometres of the run, I remember fist-bumping Hannah’s brothers, who were all in attendance (shoutout Ethan, Noah and Aidan), and I remember hearing Noah, an amazing athlete whom I admire, say:

“You’re killing it, buddy! You’re going to finish the race, keep it up, almost there!” 

From that moment on, it hit me that I was actually going to finish the race. A steady swell of pent-up emotions started to build until I finally saw the finish line and heard the announcer say “Parabéns [Congratulations in Portuguese] Ryan Jones”. Once across the finish line, the slow swell became a wave of unstoppable tears that poured out of me. Race volunteers handing out medals likely thought I was hurt and demented, given that I don’t speak Portuguese and was having a full meltdown, but I digress. I finished the race in a time of 5:15:38, a respectable first. But in the moment, my finish time was irrelevant; I couldn’t believe I’d finished the race! 

Hannah’s family greeted me at the athlete exit, and I called my parents, who had been following on the Ironman app from Canada. I then quickly got myself together and got back out on the course to watch Hannah finish her first Ironman 70.3, which brought on another wave of tears as I got to watch her realize a longstanding dream.

I was overwhelmed with pride and relief. It was finally over, and I’d overcome what seemed like an insurmountable mountain only 7-months ago; I’d succeeded. 

Back to the present

Since the call in 2022, I haven’t looked back. 

I’ve gotten progressively faster, better, and stronger, and I still have a ton of room for improvement. I’ve definitely caught the bug for ultra-endurance sports. I’ve spent countless hours training and spent more money than I care to admit on triathlon, but I am all-in.

Although the race is done alone, the lifestyle required to be good at ultra-endurance sports is not a solo endeavour. My financée is a huge part of what makes this lifestyle possible, and we’re fortunate to have friends and family who appreciate and in some cases share the passion. 

It’s an intentional choice we make to devote nearly all of our spare time outside of work and nearly every single weekend to sport, nutrition, and recovery. Thanks to everyone who makes it great, you know who you are.

Be intentional. Be disciplined. Do hard things. It’s what makes life worth living.

I can’t wait to race again.