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.