Out front, five elite athletes immediately showed us why competitive racing is both an art and a fierce endurance test. The pack was led by Hungary’s Chong Leman—or “Chunga,” as some call him. He has this uncanny ability to look completely gassed and then surge at the last second. Behind him was the ever-tenacious Ollie Conway, racing for Brownley Racing, and a tight cluster that included Taylor Reed from New Zealand, Vasco Velasa, and Mitch Kman. Meanwhile, on the bank, we caught sight of Johnny Brownley valiantly pushing on after a tough crash—a painful reminder that road rash and disappointment often come before triumph in this sport.

No matter how many times I see an athlete stumble, I’m reminded of a financial analogy—just like investing, triathlon success grows with compounding interest; you deposit a bit of effort day after day, and watch it build over time. As these athletes hit the water for a brutal third swim segment, their arms must have felt like lead. But in athletic performance, as in saving for retirement, consistency is key. You can’t just dabble in training or investing sporadically; you have to show up every day, even if your first dive is flat as a pancake.

Before long, the race moved into transition, where a split second can define your entire podium shot. Chong Leman and Vasco Velasa had to balance race strategy with managing penalties—every second counted as they grabbed bikes, pushed up the short but nasty ramp, and tried to maintain precious gaps over their chasers. Think of it like missing the right moment to switch your savings to a better account—lose a few seconds, and you can find yourself playing catch-up on the run later.

When the bike laps began, we saw fortunes twist: Taylor Reed, who’d been looking unstoppable, suffered a crash on a slippery turn. The heartbreak on his face was tangible, but he got back on his bike—road rash be damned—and drilled it to stay in contention. You have to admire that kind of grit. It reminded me of that unwavering courage you see in someone like Lionel Sanders—Mr. No Limits—who repeatedly defies any notion of giving up.

Soon enough, it was time to ditch the wheels for the final run. At that point, the breathing gets heavier, the legs scream, and your mind starts playing tricks on you, whispering, “Enough, slow down.” That’s exactly when you have to double down. As I often like to say, you don’t have to be the perfect runner to succeed—you just have to ask the right questions of yourself: “Am I fueling properly? Am I pacing well?”

Up at the front, Chong Leman seized his moment. He powered down the hill with the kind of determination that makes you forget he’s only 26. The Hungarian triathlete flew across the black carpet to clinch a career-defining victory. Vasco Velasa poured everything into his final surge, but a penalty had cost him precious seconds. Meanwhile, Ollie Conway, only 20 years old, crossed in third—earlier in the day, few would have bet on him for the podium, but his endurance and resilience shone through.

Standing there, watching the relieved smiles and the exhausted celebratory hugs, I couldn’t help but reflect on why so many find this sport addictively inspiring. Triathlon is a microcosm of life: a race of physical highs and lows, strategic decisions, and the power of camaraderie among elite athletes. Even Johnny Brownley, battered from a fall, managed to finish with a grin and salute the crowd.

It’s tempting to think winning is everything. However, if you’ve read any of my previous thoughts about chasing goals, you’ll know a podium only tells part of the story. There are layers of victories in every challenge—whether you discover new reserves of willpower or learn the lessons that set you up for bigger triumphs later. I see these lessons play out again and again, both on the triathlon course and in everyday life.