It was January 1, 2021 and I found myself deeply unhappy with my life. I was 37 years old and I felt lost, tired, and burdened by the constant pain of arthritic inflammation. This was not the way to live! There had to be something more – something better or different – waiting for me out there. I was spiraling in the same thoughts of helplessness and despair.

I decided to go on a run, only to find out that I couldn’t even run a mile. The inflammation in my knees made it difficult to run, and I finished the mile with a brisk walk. The pain wouldn’t go away.

The next couple of weeks, I pushed myself to walk the Rose Bowl, which is a 3-mile loop. I also started doing Yoga at home from YouTube videos. Meanwhile, that little voice in the back of my head kept nagging at me, insisting that there had to be something better or different for me out there. Life as it was, did not make sense – there was no need for such overwhelming helplessness and sadness.

I didn’t know it then, but I was actually depressed. You see, in many ways, I was still a teenager trapped in the body of a 37-year-old. (A traumatized teenager!) No wonder nothing made sense. No wonder I kept getting into unhealthy relationships. No wonder I had no direction. No wonder I felt STUCK!

But as I stayed consistent with yoga and walking, something began to shift. My emotional self began to heal. I began to see things through a new lens, and the world started to make a little more sense. I began to listen to motivational and self-help podcasts during my walks. I started learning of things like attachments styles, boundaries, the five love languages, self-love, manifesting, affirmations, gratitude and so much more.

My fitness journey became intertwined with my healing journey, and before long, I was feeling much better. In my late twenties, I was diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis and advised by my doctor to stay away from high-impact sports. At the time, I was drinking frequently and hardly engaged in any physical activity, which contributed to inflammation in my body.

I had finally hit rock bottom, and change came knocking at my door. I continued walking and soon I started cycling too, as it was a low-impact activity and didn’t hurt my knees. I still couldn’t run – not even a mile – but I kept pushing through. By the end of March, I was able to run a mile. On weekends, my friends and I began training together. While they tackled their long-distance runs, I rode my bike along the San Gabriel River Trail, a beautiful bike path that runs parallel the 605 freeway.

One day, my friend Joana suggested I should do a triathlon, like the Diaz brothers – she was referring to Nick and Nate Diaz, the MMA fighters. And I said, “yeah, I should!” I thought to myself, Why not, I know how to swim (well, sort of…!), I am good on my bike (okay, not really!), and now I can run three miles (just barely!). The seed was planted, and before long, I started searching for triathlons in my area.

Lo and behold, Malibu Triathlon was the first one to come up! The event was scheduled for the last week of September, and it was the end of April. That meant I had five months to train for my first triathlon. Piece of cake! Or so I thought…

And that’s where my triathlon journey began!