• Skip to primary navigation
  • Skip to main content
  • Skip to primary sidebar

HollyRobinson

Writer & Red Dirt Rambler

  • Home
  • Bio
  • Blog
  • My Books
    • Haven Lake
    • Chance Harbor
    • The Gerbil Farmer’s Daughter
    • Sleeping Tigers
    • The Wishing Hill
    • Beach Plum Island
    • Folly Cove
  • Ghostwriting

Newburyport

Yep, I Failed. But Maybe That’s a Good Thing.

Posted on 06.12.17 | Holly Robinson | 19 Comments

 

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.”

sidebar

Blog Sidebar

Follow Me

  • Facebook
  • LinkedIn
  • Twitter

Follow me on BookBub

<span>Follow me on BookBub</span>

Click here to read my recent articles and essays

  • Home
  • Blog
  • Bio
  • Ghostwriting
  • My Books
    • Folly Cove
    • Chance Harbor
    • Haven Lake
    • Beach Plum Island
    • The Wishing Hill
    • Sleeping Tigers
    • The Gerbil Farmer’s Daughter
  • Articles & Essays
    • Essays
    • Articles and Essays
      • Interviews
  • Events
  • Non-Fiction
    • Essays
    • Articles and Essays
      • Interviews
Holly Robinson

What’s New on the Blog

running on Bothwell with dogs

Can We Ever Be Completely Happy?

I was driving through Boston recently when I stopped at a light. Next to me was a rust bucket of a car. The driver had long hair, a sleeve tattoo, and a sharp profile that said, “Don’t mess with me.” Clearly a guy with a hard life and an even harder past. Yet, in the Read More

20230507 094648

Why Stay Married When You’re Living Apart?

I’m unloading the dishwasher when my husband comes up behind me. “You’re making chaos out of my stemless glassware,” he says. “What are you talking about?” He rearranges the glasses I’ve just put on the shelf. There are only six of them, so it doesn’t take long. When he’s finished, there are two of each Read More

mammoWipe

MammoWipes and Other Medical Indignities

Why do pets get red carpet medical care, while humans are treated like livestock?

HollyBlaise

The Imperfect Mother

As we creep toward Mother’s Day, that Hallmark Holiday of flowers and chocolates and too many regrets, here is the most important thing for all of you moms out there to remember: Mothering is an imperfect art. No matter how hard you try, you will never get it right 100 percent of the time. Just Read More

20230505 141526

Winning at Hawaii Bingo

Let me just say this right up front: I never had any particular desire to go to Hawaii. For one thing, I’m more of a hiker than a beach lounger. I don’t like rum or boating or sunning or surfing, and men in Hawaiian shirts make my teeth hurt. Then my dear friend Toby Neal—a Read More

20230328 123906

Creativity, Cancer, and the Circle of Quiet

I walked to the bench today after my MRI. My doctor ordered the test to see if I have pancreatic cancer, not because I have any symptoms or suspicion, but because my mother died of it last year. “Better to know,” is what my doctor said. “We can at least get a baseline.” Of course, Read More

TwitterFacebookLinkedin

Copyright © 2020 Holly Robinson

Website by Bakerview Consulting