Fail

…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.