Triathlon, for me, often feels like a selfish act. I train to get faster. I work out for my mental health. For my physical health. Because it’s my hobby—my escape. I race to beat my last time, to check a box, to prove something to myself. Most of what I do, I do for me. And I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that.
We’re often told that everything we do should serve a greater good—that if something doesn’t benefit others, it’s not worth doing. But there’s value in doing something simply because it lights you up. Motivation matters. Not everything needs to be for something.
That said, sometimes tying your effort to something larger than yourself is exactly what keeps you going. When you’re exhausted, or stuck, or unmotivated, a deeper purpose can pull you through.
Pain can drive you, too.
A month after my dog Michael passed away, I ran my first half marathon. I was overwhelmed with emotion at the finish. It hurt to keep going—but I kept going, and it meant something.
Michael’s death was sudden.
I’d gone out for a swim that rainy evening, and by the time I got changed and rushed home, he was already gone. We learned he had an undetected tumor near his heart. It burst, and within hours, he was gone. There was nothing we could have done.
I still think about how I was off training—doing something for myself—when he left.
We only have so much time to do the things we want to do. Life is fragile—and it’s not just death that can take things from us. Injury, burnout, financial hardship, obligations—they can all pull us away from the life we imagined.
In stoicism, there’s a phrase for this: memento mori. Remember, you must die. When you carry that awareness with you, it creates urgency. You want to make the most of each day.
This summer, I signed up for a few races leading up to my second Olympic-distance triathlon. I’ve got two open water swims and my first-ever bike race: the Cypress Challenge, a climb up Cypress Mountain. It’s not just any ride—it’s an event that raises money for BC Cancer and brings attention to pancreatic cancer.
Any contribution is deeply appreciated. Donate here!
Now, please enjoy a couple of hill repeats with me up Queen Elizabeth Park, on this beautiful cherry blossom day.
Enjoy the ride.
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I knew triathlon training this season would be tough, but you never really know how tough until you’re in it. One thing that’s made this block especially challenging is Petey, our new rescue dog. He’s well on his way to becoming a great, obedient training partner, but the fear and stress from being abandoned on the side of the highway and his time in the shelter don’t fade overnight. We’re working with him patiently, step by step.
Our goal is to eventually leave him home alone for a few hours, but we’re not there yet. While we could leave him with someone we trust, we’re still nervous—especially about how he might react early in the morning. As devoted helicopter dog parents, we’re trying to strike a balance. Sadly, the world can’t stand still and wait.
Right now, that means adding Petey’s training to mine. Alongside preparing for my race, we’re also helping him get used to new experiences so he can join us at the event. We decided the best approach—for me, my wife, and Petey—is to go to the race together.
We know the environment could be overwhelming for him, but with gradual exposure, a little structure, and a lot of treats, we think we can make it a positive experience.
So, we set up a trial run. I signed up for a 5K at Rocky Point in Port Moody—the same place my wife and I got married. It’s a special spot for us, and now it’s tied to a new memory: Petey’s first race.
It was a small, inaugural event, which meant fewer people and a manageable crowd. After a warm-up walk, I headed to the start line while Petey busied himself sniffing a bush. Then it was up to my wife to keep him company—and for me to focus on the run.
I didn’t have a strict goal going in—this was mostly about training Petey—but I figured, why not aim for a personal record? My last 5K in 2023 was 25 minutes and 2 seconds. Those 2 seconds bugged me. So anything under 25 felt like a solid target.
I did it! Finished in 24 minutes and 1 second. Just shy of the minute mark—next time, maybe. Still, it was a strong run, especially on a hillier course than I expected. That’s a great sign heading into my upcoming sprint triathlon.
And Petey? He did amazing. Which really means my wife did amazing. She kept him calm the whole time I was running. A few months ago, having him in this kind of environment seemed out of the question. But today gave us hope. It was one more step closer to having a life filled with fun and adventures.
Of course, this was just a test—a short run. A triathlon is a whole different beast: longer, more chaotic, and way more logistically intense. It’ll be a challenge. But that’s the point, right?
Thank you for joining us on this run. I’ll see you in the next one.
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I think a lot about how momentum works. Not just in training—although yeah, I do love a good triathlon—but in creativity too.
When I’m training for a triathlon, I’m not just running every day. I swim. I bike. And I run. Each discipline works different muscles, keeps things fresh, and somehow… they all support each other. Like, I come out of a bike ride with stronger legs for the run.
And that’s kinda how I’m approaching my creative life too.
I don’t just write. I don’t just draw. I don’t just make videos. I move between all of them—and doing that actually helps me stay motivated and inspired. If I’m stuck in one, I switch to another. If I’m tired of reading, I pull out my camera. If I can’t sit down to draw, I cut up footage and express my creativity in a whole new way.
So today, I’m sharing something I call the Creative Triathlon. It’s a predetermined length of focused time on three different creative practices: illustrating, video creation, and writing. One discipline at a time. No pressure. No multitasking. Just a way to find time to do what you enjoy.
First leg: illustration. For the past 4 years, I’ve been working on this massive personal project—drawing every single Pokémon. Yeah. All of them. It’s been slow-going, not because I don’t love it, but because finding the time is hard. Life piles up. Other projects take priority. And as strange as it sounds, drawing Pokemon doesn’t pay the bills.
But when I do this creative triathlon, it forces me to carve out time for it. Even just 25 minutes. And honestly? It’s kind of like swimming. At first, it takes a while to get ready. But once I start? I don’t want to stop. It’s peaceful. It’s focused. And there’s something really satisfying about seeing one more little creature take shape.
This leg always reminds me why I started this project in the first place: because I love it. Because it brings me back to that kid part of myself that used to draw these things on notebooks.
I’m almost at 1000 Pokemon. I really want to finish before they add more. If you are interested in see the rest, check out this video in the cards and the instagram in the link in the description.
Second leg: video creation. Right now, I’ve been making a series of YouTube Shorts where I highlight key takeaways from books I’ve read. It’s honestly become one of my favorite creative outlets.
What I love about it is that it’s a true mashup of all my past-time activities—reading, thinking, writing, editing—it all comes together in these tiny videos. It makes everything I do feel active. Reading no longer feels like a passive intake of ideas. By turning it into a video, I get to spend more time with what I’m reading. I get to sit with the concepts, rephrase them, visualize them. And because of that, the lessons stick. They become part of me. A little snapshot of my life.
Video creation is great that way. It lets you experience your own thoughts in a completely new medium. You go from absorbing to articulating, from quiet reflection to something that moves and speaks. Seeing an idea come to life on screen—it just never gets old.
Final leg: writing. I’m currently editing the fifth draft of the first book in a trilogy I’ve been working on for years. And yeah—it’s a slog. A meaningful one, but a slog nonetheless.
It’s such a big project that most days, I’m just chipping away at it. I don’t always see progress. There’s no big “aha” moment, no flashy breakthrough. It’s slow, repetitive work. And honestly, it feels a lot like running. Not a sprint—a marathon. You get tired. You want to stop. But you don’t, because the work is worth it. The fatigue is part of the point. It’s what builds endurance. It’s what makes the story matter.
Working on something this big, this long—it becomes part of your life. It’s something you carry. And the beautiful thing about creativity is that it’s not like sports… there’s no finish line in the same way. It doesn’t end. But that’s why I love this Creative Triathlon practice—because it does give me small finish lines.
Instead of focusing on finishing the book, I just focus on finishing a session. That’s it. One 25-minute block. And when it’s done, I get this little burst of relief, a sense of accomplishment. Like I’ve closed a loop. It’s such a good feeling—being able to look back at my day and say, “I did something today.” No guilt. No disappointment.
So that’s my Creative Triathlon. Three disciplines, 25 minutes each for me today. It could be more on other days, but today was only 25 minutes. Which is enough to get a good chunk of work done. Know this, though, it’s not about finishing a masterpiece in an hour and a half—it’s about movement. It’s about momentum.
Just like in a real triathlon, each leg has its own rhythm. Some feel strong. Some feel slow. But they all carry me forward.
If you’re someone who loves multiple creative things—or if you’re feeling stuck—try this. Treat your creativity like a triathlon. Mix it up. Work different muscles. Let each practice breathe new life into the others.
Thanks for hanging out with me today. If you decide to try your own Creative Triathlon, let me know how it goes! And if you already have a different combo that works for you—maybe it’s music, painting, and cooking—drop it in the comments. I’d love to hear what you’re working on.
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Having completed “Right Thing, Right Now” by Ryan Holiday (Amazon), I want to highlight a chapter that stood out: “You Just Have to Be Kind”
As Kurt Vonnegut said, “There’s only one rule that I know of: Goddamn it, Joe, you’ve got to be kind.””
Be kind.
To the ones who serve you.
To the ones who frustrate you.
To those who falter, those who fall.
To the ones who follow you and the ones who came before.
To the ones you may never meet.
The history is filled with brilliant and successful people. You’ve probably encountered plenty. But how many truly kind people have you met? When we look back, one thing that never ages well is a lack of kindness.
The cruelty of mobs. The selfishness of leaders. The way whole groups of people were dismissed, diminished, denied their humanity.
It’s true: There is no leader who has not faced frustration. There is no wise person who has not endured foolishness. There is no good person who has not been wronged.
This is the way of the world.
But it is our strength, our wisdom, our decency that obligates us to be kind anyway.
You never know what someone is carrying. You never know how far a small kindness might ripple. But that’s not why we do it.
We do it because as Vonnegut puts it, it’s the only goddamn rule there is.
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Elliot Chan 