Remember the guy who quit? Neither does anyone else. As I lay in the fetal position with 1.5 miles to go during the Ironman World Championships last October, I was reminded of this.

It’s taken me a long time to give myself permission to fail, and even longer to give myself permission to win. I’m often asked for advice on goals, motivation and training. The best I can do is share with you what I do to overcome my fears and build my confidence; take it for what it’s worth.

I choose to see every setback as an opportunity to regroup and reattack. Since January I’ve been chipping away at the process of building my fitness while banking incremental gains in confidence.

Not all training is enjoyable, in fact most of my training is anything but enjoyable. Each session is spent quieting the inner voice that begs me to settle for “good enough”.

I calm myself knowing that it is the consistent and frequent small investments that exponentially grow. I repeat this over and over, especially during difficult intervals, terrible weather and the long, dark days of winter.

Until “it” happens. “It” is the tipping point where I believe more in myself and less in the plethora of odds stacked up against me. Once there, I cannot be beaten regardless of the scoreboard.

Consider Malcolm Gladwell’s 10,000-hour rule of “deliberate practice” needed to become world-class in any field. It’s as good a theory as any out there. Frankly, how many hours it will take me, I care not.

Instead, I bank each of my small, incremental gains while staying out of the way of any potential successes along the way.

I treat training as if boxing was my sport; boxing for money is way different from boxing for fun. To that end, I can do a whole lot more by getting myself ready than I can by just taking punches.

I approach training with great respect for the distances, the conditions and my competition. The rehearsal is way more important than the show. As I lay on the tarmac of the Queen K last October, seized up and no longer able to move, it was very clear to me that this ain’t over.

“This is temporary,” I thought. “We learn from this,” I repeated to myself. Get up, dust off, and live to fight another day. That my friends, is a win.