On Saturday, February 21 at 7:00 am in Florida, I began a 24-hour race. By the time the clock circled back the following morning, I had completed a 4.8-mile swim and a 224-mile bike ride with Mammoth ANVIL Racing. When you finish this race, you strike the anvil. Because this was a double Ironman swim and bike, I struck it twice.
But endurance events are rarely solitary, even when they look that way from the outside. My husband Scott, my friend Miranda, the race director David and his wife Carmella, and an entire racing village carried this effort with me. So when I say I did it, what I really mean is we did it.
There are many lessons from 24 hours of movement, darkness, cold water, and constant decision-making under stress. The lesson that feels most relevant beyond the race course is not about grit or mindset. It is about blood sugar.
On a race course, blood sugar dysregulation does not hide. It shows up quickly and dramatically. Mild instability looks like fatigue or poor pacing. Greater swings distort judgment and coordination. Athletes make small but costly mistakes—misjudging turns, forgetting gear, choosing the wrong layer for temperature shifts. At the far end of the spectrum is what endurance athletes call “bonking,” when the body runs out of usable fuel and performance collapses entirely.
Watching this unfold during the event felt like a magnified version of what I see clinically every week. The difference is that in daily life, we rarely recognize the pattern. We call it stress. We call it aging. We call it being busy. We rarely call it unstable blood sugar.
The lesson actually began the day before the race. During a practice swim, I realized the water was far colder than I had anticipated. It was Florida, and I had assumed warmth. Instead, I was preparing to spend nearly four hours in cold, dark water.
I made three immediate adjustments. Scott drove six hours round trip to retrieve my full-sleeve wetsuit. I switched from a sugar-free electrolyte formula to one containing carbohydrates. I increased total caloric intake and added bananas to my fueling plan. Those changes prevented cramping and likely prevented far worse. I even had enough banana to share with another swimmer whose hamstrings had locked from cold and inadequate fueling.
The next morning, the water that had appeared dark red during practice was black and frigid at dawn. I swam blind, lifting my head only to breathe and navigate. It was disorienting. But my blood sugar was steady, and that steadiness created clarity. Clarity allowed adaptation.
This race is entirely self-supported. Every piece of nutrition and equipment must be anticipated and organized in advance. What goes to the Airbnb. What stays in the car. What is accessible on the bike. What will be needed during the night hours versus the daylight. It is a continual exercise in respecting physiology.
It struck me that most people do not approach their daily lives with this level of respect for their metabolic demands. We know we have important meetings. We know we must make consequential decisions. We know we are driving, negotiating, parenting, and managing responsibilities that require clarity. Yet we often skip breakfast, rush through lunch, rely heavily on caffeine, and push through mounting fatigue.
There is research demonstrating that decision-making quality declines as glucose availability drops, then improves again after food intake. The interpretation is not that people become less intelligent as the day progresses. It is that judgment, emotional regulation, and cognitive flexibility are deeply influenced by available fuel. Physiology shapes performance in ways that are both subtle and profound.
When blood sugar swings unpredictably, reflexes slow, patience shortens, and thinking narrows. We become more reactive and less adaptable. In a race, that costs minutes. In daily life, it costs clarity, connection, and sometimes opportunity.
If we approached our day as something that truly mattered, we might plan differently. Not obsessively, but intentionally. That might mean eating protein before leaving the house instead of relying solely on coffee. It might mean recognizing that intermittent fasting is not universally supportive and adjusting when it does not match your physiology. It might mean committing to a lunch that contains adequate protein and calories rather than grazing on carbohydrates that spike and crash glucose. It might mean eating before you are desperate, rather than waiting until you are depleted.
During the race, there were moments when I did not feel wonderful. The difference was that I corrected quickly. At one point, I recognized that exactly half of a small maple candy would restore clarity without upsetting my stomach. A full portion would have been too much. Half was enough. That kind of attunement is not reserved for athletes. It is available to anyone willing to observe their own patterns.
If your days feel like mile 220 of 224, marked by brain fog, irritability, digestive discomfort, and the sense that you are simply pushing through, it is worth asking whether your system is underfueled or misfueled.
You are not too old. You are not too busy. You are not broken. Your physiology may simply require a different strategy.
This is the foundation of the Decode Your Dolphin Metabolic Reset. We look at detailed labwork, including blood sugar, insulin, lipids, and metabolic markers, and combine that insight with Traditional Chinese Medicine patterning to create a plan that fits real life. The goal is not perfection. It is stability.
If you are in Florida and struggling with energy crashes, brain fog, mood swings, or stubborn weight that does not respond to effort, it may be time to look more closely at your blood sugar regulation.
In-person appointments are available in Florida, and virtual consultations are available wherever you are.
Call or text 941 923 9355 to schedule a consultation and create a fueling strategy that supports clarity, resilience, and long-term metabolic health.
Endurance racing taught me many things. The most practical of them is this: performance, mood, and judgment are profoundly dependent on stable fuel. We cannot expect clarity without nourishment.