In June 2008, my husband, Wes, and I traveled to Vancouver, BC, Canada, where I raced in the age-group short-course (Olympic-distance) triathlon world championships as a member of Team USA. Knowing I would be one of the slower women in my age group, I set an intention to really enjoy the experience, taking it all in. (In Boston, six weeks earlier, I had worked so hard to hold my pace that I couldn’t focus on the crowds, the course, the feeling of running the Boston Marathon.) The result was a slowish race but a once-in-a-lifetime vacation.

The weather was uncooperative, and shortly after my wave began the race, the organizers cancelled the swim entirely. I’m fortunate to have gotten to do it, because it was an intense and exhilarating experience, in chilly, choppy water—a perfect opportunity to focus on form and breath, each present moment.

I took my sweet time in transition, favoring comfort over speed (gloves, socks, the works). I rode at a moderate speed, snuck glimpses of the breathtaking views from the top of Stanley Park, cheered for all the disabled athletes (the hand-crank wheelchairs and the blind athletes on tandems were inspiring), thanked every single volunteer on my last lap, and had no incidents at all.

My run was a comfortable 46:something three-lap 10K, and it left me with plenty of energy to enjoy the rest of our weekend in the beautiful Pacific Northwest. Not a personal best Oly, but a great weekend.