Last year, I did the Couch-to-5K program and ran my first 5K. My time was almost laughable—35 minutes and 12 seconds, with a pace of 11.20 per mile. In other words, women pushing baby strollers were passing me. But, hey, it was my first race. I was determined to keep running and planned to do the same race in 2017. I couldn’t wait to see how much faster I’d be!
That race was Saturday, June 10. And I failed.
This particular 5K is a grand event that raises money in the name of 1st Lt. Derek Hines, who was tragically killed in the line of duty in Afghanistan at age 25, for a Soldiers Assistance Fund. By now, this Flag Day race draws an impressive crowd of runners each year to Newburyport, MA. There is a moving ceremony with military personnel speaking about their personal experiences, and this year there was even a Black Hawk helicopter doing flyovers, followed by music and a barbecue.
When I ran the race last year, I was terrified. I had never done anything like a 5K, never mind one with such fanfare and so many people cheering from the sidelines. This time I felt more relaxed, having put many miles on my sneakers in the intervening year. I already knew the course and had my strategy in place: no racing at the start, baby steps on the hill, try to do the last mile faster. Etc.
So what happened? I ran the course TWO MINUTES SLOWER. Sure, it was hotter than last year, and every runner likes to use heat as an excuse for a bad race day. And yeah, I’d ordered an XL in the t-shirt and it was like running in a dang dress.
But I was disappointed in myself, enough to do that thing I always poke fun at “real” athletes for doing: running a play-by-play description of the race aloud for my husband and friends, lamenting where I could have gone faster and made up time. Woulda, shoulda, coulda: that sort of pointless hit-your-head-on-the-wall defeatist dialogue.
My race day also happened to be my daughter’s birthday, and for her birthday, she and her brother were celebrating by running a 30K race. Yeah, you read that right: 30K. On trails, and up hills in Oregon, where she lives. (Oh, and she’s training for a 100K. In Colorado.)
When I told my bionic girl about feeling like a failure, my daughter said, “I don’t know, Mom. I look at those runners who come in way after I do, and you know what? I admire them. They’re out there running for a lot longer than most people, and working harder to achieve the same goal. You should just be proud that you did it.”
Okay, that pep talk momentarily made me feel worse. Old, lame, obsolete, you name it: suddenly I saw myself as others must: as a red-faced, chubby, over-the-hill dame who can barely make it up a hill.
The thing is, I fail at a lot of things. My garden needs weeding, my laundry needs doing, my crow position in yoga is more of a squat-and-topple, and the novel I’m writing refuses to behave. In fact, I fail a lot more than I succeed.
On the other hand, after I’d fumed some more, after I’d had time to consider my daughter’s wise words, I suddenly had this thought: it’s better to be failing at things you’re trying than to just be lounging on the coach and watching other people do cool things.
So here’s what I’m telling myself: I have a rich and busy inner life, and I can vacuum later. I’m writing a novel and learning as I go. Yoga is all about being in the body you’re in. And I just ran a 5K in 90-degree heat for a great cause. So what if I was slower than last year? I was in there, giving it my all, pumping my arms and legs up that hill, wiping sweat from my brow, and making it to the finish line.
If you’re not failing, you’re not risking anything. And is that really living?
Or, as Winston Churchill said, “Success is not final, failure is not fatal; it is the courage to continue that counts.”
19 Comments
I’m the person sitting on the couch reading this instead of gutting it out the way you did, Holly!! I love that you’ve taken on this kind of a challenge. xo
You’re so sweet to say so! Thanks!
Finishing is winning. It doesn’t matter what your time was- you accomplished something you can be proud of.
And you are my role model in that!
Lovely essay, Holly!
Thank you so much, Barbara! I hope all is well in your world!
Holly, love this.
For what it’s worth, every graduate of Couch to 5k that I spoke with was mortified with their time. It was significantly hotter than previous years and that takes a toll on you! I hope we’ll all be back out there next year.
Hooah!
love the story, thank you!
Thanks so much! I love seeing you when I’m running around the neighborhood!
You are amazing. You inspire – so there! Xo
Thanks, Meg. I’m just glad you don’t have your camera handy when I’m running…
Beautifully said, Holly. I see you on your runs and you put me to shame! But on the other hand, as you say, I’m out there walking, and trying. Life shouldn’t be a competition.
Thank you, Nancy! And you’re right: you’re out there, and that’s what matters. We WILL fit that walk in together one day.
Wise words. Glad you figured out an attitude adjustment!
Thank you, Edith. I’m looking forward to seeing you for Hallie’s reading!
This is such a great post! Thank you for the reminder to keep plugging away. I certainly needed it.
Also, congratulations on finishing your 5K!
Thank you for taking the time to read the post, Satin. You’re a wonderful inspiration to me as well!
I’ve just finished Chance Harbor, and have to say out of all your books I’ve read (and there are many), I enjoyed this one the most, so far. I live in Ontario, but have spent time in Massachusetts AND Prince Edward Island. I loved how this book was full of interesting characters and plot twists, plus scenery descriptions I could actually picture as I read… I could hardly put this book down! Good job I m retired and my time is my own, though I should be making a quilt, knitting a sweater, etc etc. The only time I put it down was to walk my rescue dog “Happy”. I enjoyed reading about “Bear” as well, I pictured a lovely black Newfoundland? “Mike” was a cutr dog too. Am looking forward to reading your next novel and hope my library has it soon
June, thank you SO much for your sweet note! This really meant a lot to me, especially since I have just finished a new book and am suffering spasms of anxiety as I wait for my agent to read it. In answer to your question: yes, I was picturing “Bear” as a Newfoundland mix! Your rescue dog is so lucky to have you–he is aptly named!