Winter Training Is Where Spring Is Earned

Training in the winter isn’t particularly fun. There’s no romantic version of it, no highlight reel that makes it feel inspiring in the moment. It’s getting up early in the morning and driving to the pool when it’s still dark outside—when all you want to do is sleep. It’s forcing yourself to go outside and run when the temperature is barely above freezing and every instinct tells you to stay inside. It’s riding on the indoor trainer—knowing it’s not as enjoyable as being outside and somehow even more uncomfortable.

Most days, I don’t want to go.

But every time that thought creeps in, every time I start to negotiate with myself, I remind myself why I’m doing this. I look down at the tattoo on my arm and see Alex and Jason’s names. And in that moment, the discomfort feels different. It feels necessary.

Winter training has become less about fitness and more about choice. Choosing to do something hard when it would be easier not to. Choosing discomfort over comfort. Choosing to show up when motivation is gone.

I don’t train in the winter because I enjoy it. I train because it reminds me that I can do hard things. The cold, the dark, and the quiet strip everything down to what matters. There’s no distraction—just effort, intention, and honesty. Every early alarm, every frozen mile, every session I don’t want to do becomes proof that I’m still moving forward.

The Quiet Payoff

Winter training doesn’t create fast moments—it creates a foundation. And when things get uncomfortable on race day, they won’t feel unfamiliar. I’ll have already been there. I’ll know that I can stay present, stay steady, and keep going.

Winter doesn’t ask for perfection. It asks one simple question, again and again:

Will you show up anyway?

For them I always will.