The first time I thought it was silly. And maybe even a little flattering. The second time, I was surprised two people would base their definition of race success on someone else’s performance. The third time I heard it, I began to feel like a moving target.

The only person I want to beat at Kona is me. Which I realize gives me something in common with those girls. I will beat the me that decides somewhere around Waikoloa: Screw this ridiculously overpriced torture event, I’m going to drop this bike off at T2 and watch the winners finish from the stands. (With beer and chocolate.) The me that gets bored and chatty as I run through the energy lab, losing focus and making friends to pass time. The me that inevitably panics during the swim start and considers stopping to let the madness go by. If I do the best I can every leg of that race, and stay in the moment instead of spacing out, then I win. Even if some other girl does it faster and tops the podium. Good for her, because she probably had a great day and is ecstatic, and that is all hers.

As always, there are some awesome amateur women racing in Kona this year, many of whom could kick my butt on any given day. My goal is not to beat anyone. My super-secret goal is to beat my time from last year, because why not? If 9:56:19 puts me 12th in my age group, I will celebrate improvement. But I guess that’s not super-secret anymore..

As always, my primary goal is to not die. Seriously, people. It’s an Ironman. It’s a miracle we all don’t die. My secondary goal is to race it. With every ounce of me. I would also like to smile through the entire marathon. And to not do so much math because my math sucks by the marathon anyway.