In the failure, I find patience…
Understatement: I am goal driven. Almost to a fault. I approach every workout as a test. Can I meet my goal? How much will it hurt? Have I set myself up for success?
In the early days of the sport, I met every benchmark. I checked off the boxes with confidence knowing that I could do the work. This pleased the driven and OCD part of my personality. As I moved to the pointy end of the field, I found my choices validated.
Arriving at the pointy end required a personality shift. No longer could I check the boxes off. The workouts had to have a genuine risk of failure. In the failure, a younger version of myself would have found disappointment and anger.
This brings me to the 50 year old version of myself. I have had a great block of training under the guidance of my long time coach, Marilyn Chychota. Last week I decided to complete an intensive session outside despite the looming winter storm. The run turned into a slippery slide and a much slower than anticipated slog. I could hear the voice of KT (she who must be obeyed) in the back of my head reminding me that we had a treadmill at home. Which I ignored in my stupidity. And she was right. I failed the session despite the elation of the epic experience.
The difference with age is that now in the failure I find patience. I don’t remember the blown workouts and the brief days of training missed for a family emergency. An off day isn’t a trend but rather a caution sign. Did I make good choices? Am I controlling what I can control? How can I set myself up for success next time?
I also have the confidence to know that sometimes I am not there yet. Each time I try a workout I may get just a bit closer to success. And in the end I am confident I will reach my goal. I recognize that in the training of my body, I am training my mind. This is a journey without end. Sigh.
No easy way.