…To be unsuccessful in achieving one’s goal. Succeed… achieve the desired aim or result.
I have completed many races, short and long, but I have
never truly enjoyed the success of any of them.
By definition one does not succeed until they reach their desired aim or
result. I never allowed myself the
opportunity to succeed because I truly never set a goal. I found it easier to train how I want, when I
want, that way, I never had to commit myself to a simple truth – I could fail
or succeed. I’ve realized this
simplicity isn’t so simple.
As a new runner in 2009 I had never done a real running race
that wasn’t the 800 meter in high school track.
I decided I could do a half marathon, when committing to running this
13.1 mile race my goal was to finish. As
I began training I realized finishing wasn’t enough for me, I wanted to do
better, I felt I could do better. But I
never defined better. I never said “Kelly,
you can run a 2:00 half marathon, so get your ass out there and train to it!” I finished the race, was happy to have
completed it, but it began my long list of finishing races but not really
succeeding.
After completing the half I was confident I could do a
full. Having never done a full, again my
default “goal” was to finish. As I
trained I began to get confident, believing and feeling I was capable of a
doing pretty well, but again, I never defined it to challenge and push myself
to meet a goal. Race day I had a
terrible race plan, it was hot, and I finished.
Happy to finish but it didn’t feel like success.
With each race I completed I had built in excuses on why not
to have a goal, or why my finish was a success, but those were the stories I
was telling myself. My second marathon
was a few months after my first – goal – be faster than the first marathon. Huh?
My first race I had a terrible race plan, I didn’t set a true goal to
finish and it was hot out resulting in a not so pleasant race experience or
time to challenge myself to, but now that was my measure for my next race? YUP! I
crossed the line in a time faster than the first.
First triathlon, no goal because I hadn’t done one before,
same with my first 10k, first half ironman, first ironman and so on and so
forth. I’m not saying the goal of
finishing is a bad goal, it’s a great goal for me or anyone. There have only been 4 races that I have
truly committed to that as a great goal but those weren’t my races, they were
either guiding an athlete for their race or running with a friend to help them
finish a race. Those were truly my
favorite races because my expectation was met.
For my personal races, that’s never happened because I’ve been afraid to
commit to a goal and doing whatever it takes to get it.
The day before guiding Ironman Wisconsin last year I signed
up for the 2013 race. Many things
changed between that September and this one; training, family life, friends,
support, marriage. I even crashed on a
bike ride and managed to break my collar bone 7 weeks before race day. I didn’t have a goal other than my normal
bullshit – be faster than the previous race in which you didn’t set a goal
for. The great thing about setting arbitrary
goals is they can be made more specific or modified when you most need it. A week before race day I made a choice, I set
a goal. My race goal was 12 hours. 12 hours was the time I thought I was able to
complete Ironman Texas earlier in May, but never committed to. I went 13 hours there but thought on a cooler
day like I’d get in Wisconsin I could truly do 12. So there it was, 4 years in to racing and I
finally set a goal. I had every reason
to pick an easier goal, to give myself a break, to do what I had always done
but I didn’t.
I swam, biked and got 8 miles in to the run then had my
first DNF. Coming off the bike I needed
just under a 4 hour marathon to get my twelve.
I ran as far as I could and then I ran some more. I’d walk the aid stations and get food and
water and then run again. Then there was
no more running, no more moving. At
first I crouched, then laid there. Race
over. Coming off the bike I had 9 hours
to finish 26.2 miles on my feet. I could
have started walking, I could have jogged, I could have played it safe, but
that wasn’t my goal. I could have taken a
specific goal and changed it on the fly to something attainable, but I committed.
My greatest athletic success was failing that day.
