Coaching for athletes who already do the work.

Constant contact, same-day replies, a text back within the hour. That model is built for athletes who need someone to keep them going.

This isn't that. You get a plan built on your data, reviewed in depth every three weeks, and adjusted every week against what you actually did. Messages get a considered answer inside 48 hours instead of a reflexive one in ten minutes.

The structure is the point. It's what makes room for real analysis instead of constant shallow contact.

If you're already training consistently and want someone to make the analytical calls — which sessions matter, where your limiter actually is, what the data is telling you that you can't see from inside it — that's what this is.

Three-month minimum, billed monthly. That minimum isn't a lock-in tactic — it's the shortest window in which a training block, its review, and the adjustment that follows can actually show you anything.

I came into this as a swimmer. Years of competitive swimming through the D1 level — one discipline trained properly, and two I had never trained at all.

In 2024 I ran 0.92 times per week. Forty-eight runs, 219 miles for the entire year, and most of them hurt. That is the honest starting point: not a lapsed runner coming back, but someone whose body had never been asked to run and pushed back every time it was.

Two years later I ran a 3:31 marathon off a 4:32 Ironman bike split. Not by running more — I still average under two runs a week. By running the right ones, pacing them against data instead of feel, and fixing the fueling that was quietly capping every long effort.

On the same 70.3 course that took me 59th in my age group in 2024, I finished 12th in 2026. At the full distance, first attempt, 5th — an age-group podium.

Two minutes and one second per mile off the same 13.1, all of it run on tired legs. The first point is my first 70.3, four months into ever running seriously. The steepest section — April to November 2025 — contains a nine-week stretch where I did not run at all.

Same course, three years

Oceanside is the control. Same 70.3, same roads, three consecutive years — the cleanest read available on whether anything is actually changing.

2024 is official race timing (total 5:35:16). 2025 and 2026 are device splits with transitions excluded, so the leg times are directionally right but not yet apples-to-apples.

Pacing

The run got faster because the bike got more disciplined, not less. Over two years at Oceanside the bike came down 38 minutes and the run came down 26 — the opposite of the usual trade, where a faster bike is paid for by a slower run. At Texas the same discipline held for four and a half hours:

A variability index of 1.024 means the power almost never spiked. Decoupling under 2% means the engine never drifted. And a 3:31 marathon averaging 130 bpm means the bike was ridden to set the run up, not to post a bike split. That is the whole discipline in three numbers, and it's the read I'd bring to your files.

Fueling

This is the part I got most wrong for longest, and the part that moved the most once it was fixed. In 2024 I carried gels and Honey Stingers and ate when I felt like it. No plan, no target, and no gut training — which meant the ceiling wasn't my fitness, it was how much fuel I could actually absorb while using it.

A hundred and ten to a hundred and fifty grams an hour is not something you can just decide to do. Try it off the back of a season eating gels on feel and you will spend the run walking to portable toilets. The gut is trainable the same way the aerobic system is — progressively, in sessions built for it, over months. That's the work almost nobody does, and it's why the marathon at Texas held 8:04/mi to the finish instead of unravelling at mile 18.

Most athletes I talk to are leaving more time here than anywhere else in their training. It's also the cheapest to fix: it costs nothing in extra hours, and it's a plan rather than a sacrifice.

Where it ended up