74 Days to Ultraman Mexico

74 Days to Ultraman — Surrender and Energy

This morning I read a race report from Ironman Ottawa. The writing wasn’t flashy—just a straightforward description of the day—but it struck me. It reminded me that my own desire to write about endurance and life doesn’t need to be grand or polished. Honest storytelling is enough. Seeing someone else do what I want to do gave me permission: I just have to do it.

Today I put in four hours at Korbin’s—mowed the lawn, cleared leaves, and cut down a few small trees. Tomorrow I’m planning a nine-hour push to hit 25 total hours before Milwaukee. That will give me two straight days free to focus on training, photos, and getting ready for the trip.

Money is tight but manageable. I’ve got about $1,200 now and another $500 coming once I hit 25 hours. That covers Milwaukee. When I get back, I’ll need to pay rent and shift straight into saving for Mexico. It’s tense living check to check, but I’m proud of what I’m building. I’m not trading the life I want for comfort or security. I’m working every day to make this dream real.

On my run I listened to Jim Murphy on the Rich Roll Podcast. One of the best episodes I’ve heard in a while. He talked about his years chasing greatness—first as an athlete, then as a coach—and the toll of living inside that narrow definition of success. I felt that deeply. I carry the same affliction: believing I need to become “great” or else I’ve failed, without ever asking who decided what greatness even means.

What hit hardest was his emphasis on surrender. To open yourself fully to life, to God, to creation—whatever word you choose—and allow it to shape you into what you need to become. That surrender requires letting go of distractions. He reminded me how limited our energy, attention, and time really are. Every shallow interaction, every mindless scroll, every numbing escape—those all siphon off the strength I need to pursue what inspires me.

To live fully, I need to guard my energy fiercely. Not with rigid control, but with clarity. Choosing what feeds me, letting go of what drains me. Saving my strength for the things that truly matter.