Racing the Season: The Art of Doing Less
How a year of training, traveling, and letting go taught me that true endurance isn’t just physical — it’s learning when to rest.
The Shift in Mindset
This past season, something shifted. I went into races not to chase podiums, but to have fun — to be part of the energy, to connect, to share the water with people who love it as much as I do. Somewhere along the way, the focus moved from performance to presence, and the entire experience became richer. I discovered that joy fuels endurance far better than pressure ever could.
That shift really took hold last November at the ICF World Championship in Sarasota, Florida. For the first time, I stopped caring about winning and started embracing the adventure itself — the travel, the camaraderie, the unknowns. Ironically, that’s when my performance began to accelerate.
The event stretched over four days of intense racing, and I honestly didn’t expect to qualify through the end of the week. Steady, consistent effort carried me through, and I ended up placing in every event. Each morning began with the same ritual: sitting under my near-infrared light, practicing breath work and yoga, grounding myself before the day began. That quiet consistency kept my body balanced, my mind calm, and—perhaps most importantly—kept me injury-free.
Strength Through Consistency
Throughout this season, consistency became my quiet superpower. I trained regularly, but not obsessively. I learned that strength doesn’t always come from pushing harder — it comes from showing up, day after day, with balance and intention. Training wasn’t just time on the water; it was time in the gym, surfing, and longboard skateboarding. In the winter months, I added skiing and hiking to the mix. Each activity supported the others, keeping me strong, agile, and connected to movement in a playful way. Cross-training, I realized, isn’t a detour — it’s part of the path.
Another key piece of consistency was learning to train when I felt ready, without waiting on anyone else. I discovered that certain paddling groups in my community were more supportive and uplifting than others, and I chose to align myself with those who encouraged growth and positivity. When your energy shifts upward, not everyone will meet you there — and that’s okay. Some get caught up in competition and find it hard to celebrate others’ success, and that’s where I began to understand how powerful mindset truly is. Staying away from negativity — especially the kind that hides behind comparison — became just as important as physical training. Measuring yourself against others doesn’t create growth; it limits it. Envy can easily disguise itself as competitiveness or unsportsmanlike behavior, but all it really does is drain energy. Steering clear of that energy has allowed me to stay centered, focused, and balanced, and to put my effort where it matters most: into becoming the best version of myself, both on and off the water.
Breath, Body, and Balance
Yoga and breath work became non-negotiable for me. They’re not just pre-race rituals, but a way of living. The same grounding breath I take before the horn blows is the one I return to throughout the day — a simple, steady reminder to find stillness when everything else moves fast. The mental clarity that comes from these practices has been just as valuable as any physical training, if not more.
I’ve realized that many people want to start a mindful or breath work practice but don’t know where to begin. It can feel intimidating or overly complicated, but it doesn’t have to be. In my book and accompanying workbook, I share step-by-step guidance on how to build a consistent practice that fits naturally into your lifestyle — one that supports not just performance, but presence.
Fueling the Machine
Dialing in my nutrition and hydration was another layer of learning. Finding what keeps me energized without burning out has taken time and patience. It is not about following trends or comparing plans; it is about listening to my body. I have let go of the guilt that used to come with taking rest days or choosing to nourish myself in different ways. Sometimes the best training decision is not to train at all. There have been many days when I decided to skip movement entirely because I have learned to truly listen to what my body is telling me. When you pay attention, your body will also tell you when you are using the wrong fuel, just like a car running on the wrong gas. Ignoring those signals can eventually leave you sidelined.
The Joy of the Journey
The highlight of my season wasn’t a medal or a finish line; it was the travel, the familiar faces, and the friendships that deepened along the way. I didn’t race in all new places, but I did get to visit more of them, and each one offered its own kind of beauty and challenge. Every event felt like a reunion — the same faces, the same shared passion for being on the water.
What I enjoyed most was the time spent with people outside the races themselves. Having a beer together, grabbing a bite to eat, or just hanging out and swapping stories — those were the moments that really stuck with me. We often only see each other in passing at events, so any extra time to connect felt like a gift. It reminded me that this sport is about more than competition. It’s about community, and the shared love of the water that brings us all back, race after race.
Knowing When to Step Back
Skipping Last Paddler Standing was a real turning point for me. For a long time, I felt like I needed to prove something — that testing my endurance to the limit somehow defined my strength or my dedication to the sport. But the truth is, I’m not an ultra-endurance athlete. I’m a sprinter. I thrive on intensity, focus, and short bursts of power, not endless hours of grinding it out. Admitting that to myself took more honesty than pushing through another race ever would.
The thought of prepping for that event was creating more stress than excitement, and I realized that wasn’t the mindset I wanted to carry into something I love. Choosing not to do it wasn’t quitting — it was listening. I learned that growth doesn’t always come from doing more; sometimes it comes from knowing when to stop. I no longer measure my worth in miles logged or races completed, but in moments of authenticity — the times when my choices align with what truly feels right for me.
Dancing to House Music Instead
My reward for a season of growth and first-place finishes wasn’t another medal — it was time off. I am choosing to spend it with my daughter in Tampa, and we will go to see MK in Ybor City. Instead of chasing another start line, I am going out to dance to House Music. Movement doesn’t always need a finish line to be meaningful. Sometimes the body just wants to move for joy.
Looking Ahead to The Next Season
As I look ahead, my intentions are clear: stay consistent, stay strong, and stay connected. I want to travel to new races, meet new people, and keep the experience light and joyful. If I land on the podium, that’s just the extra reward. The real win is maintaining the balance — between effort and ease, water and rest, focus and fun.
Because in the end, racing the season isn’t about doing more. It’s about learning the art of doing less — and finding yourself fully alive in the space between.