I wanted to write a blog about miracles - how I conquered the sub-three-hour marathon.
But as I sit here, barely two hours after crossing the line, that isn’t a story I can tell.
I ran Frankfurt in 3:04.35 officially (3.03 without the loo break!).
I’ve probably run more than a dozen marathons in my life, and I often think I’m fitter than I am. My expectations tend to outstrip either my ability or my execution, and the gap between what I hoped for and what I achieve can be a difficult place to sit.
Today was no different. I wanted sub-three. I didn’t get it.
My two great friends, Phil and Jon both achieved their goals. Phil ran 2:59:58 (incredible). Jon ran like a pro for 3:03. They set out their goals and nailed it.
Does coming up short reveal some fundamental weakness? Does failure tell us something deterministic about ourselves, some immutable truth about our limitations?
We want the things we achieve to tell us that we’re good enough. But the marathon is a dangerous peg on which to hang that hope.
I love that there’s no fooling the marathon. In life you can often fake it to make it. Not the marathon.
It is the great revealer, the humbler. It is the death knell of bravado.
You can tell yourself whatever you like at the start line. The marathon has a way of stripping you back to the basics. Wanting something and being able to achieve it are not the same thing (I should have learnt this lesson aged 11 to be fair!). That effort doesn’t guarantee an outcome. That you can do many things right and still fall short.
But I am proud of this marathon.
I’m proud because eer, running 26.2 miles is no cake walk! And the older I get, I know getting to the line healthy is a big achievement.
I also love Roosevelt’s poem Daring Greatly (on my office wall). And I did that. I set myself an ambitious goal and took a swing at it.
There is value in risking disappointment in pursuit of something that matters to you. But you have to own it.
We shouldn’t dress up disappointment as a triumph, or pretend that outcomes don’t matter. They do. I wanted to run sub-three, and I didn’t. No point hiding from that.
I think there are two things I learn when coming up short.
The first is to take the medicine.
Accept the result. Receive the humility that comes with not being able to do what you set out to do. Don’t make excuses or rush to explain it away. Mems the breaks.
Disappointment is the price of caring about something and putting yourself on the line for it.
The second is don’t draw long term conclusions from short term disappointment.
I’m holding at bay the voice of self-criticism that wants to decree a verdict about me from this three-hour episode in my life. Drawing the conclusion that I’m not the kind of person who can achieve hard goals is the best way to never set any ever again!
I want to keep setting goals that stretch me, keep asking questions of myself, keep discovering what I can do. I want to be able to look failure in the eye without flinching, but also without letting it have the final word.
So I’m holding me head up. Certainly gonna keep on trying
Lucky that God loves a tryer!
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