A few months ago, I sat at dinner with a friend, enjoying my post-ride cider on the patio as the sun set on a warm Missouri evening. Most of our conversation was based around the upcoming Western States 100 Mile Endurance Run. Two local runners, one her boyfriend, would toe the line the following weekend and we knew that it would be a unique challenge for each to complete the race. As a runner (insert cyclist, climber, other athlete type here), you don’t (or shouldn’t) think much about the prospect of not finishing, but as a support crew, you have to consider all outcomes with an air of impassivity. I made the comment that a major goal race, and process of preparing for it, was something like a marriage.
Just like when you accept a ring, when you commit to a major race goal, you don’t really know the outcome, but you believe in it strongly enough to accept the vague possibility of heartache. As you become more certain, you bring others into the relationship. They support you and your dream. They run with you and motivate you when you’re not sure you can keep going. As you become more confident still, you seek out those who would speak against you…and even their doubt bolsters your resolve and determination. Sometimes that support group becomes so enveloped in your journey that it inspires them to attempt and believe in things they have never previously had the courage for. In fact, you may feel a new responsibility, not just to yourself and your dream, but to everyone that has touched or believed in that dream. As training progresses and the group of believers grows, you share more and more of the successes publicly, but feel each of the minor injuries, falls, and I just don’t want to run days more keenly. The magic of the moment has worn off, but you keep going both because you still believe in your dream and because you don’t want to let anyone down. For some, by race day the pressure is greater than their own belief…and few reach the finish line or will toe the line again. For others, who have prepared without including the outside world, the race holds only the pressure they put on themselves, but as the risk is low, so is the potential reward. Most of those who finish well rely on their own untarnished belief (bolstered by a close group of supporters and naysayers), a lot of humor and a little luck, and the willingness to adapt. When that happens, everyone wins and the whole process is seen through the lens of successful accomplishment.
A race may be the culmination of months or years of preparation, but in the end, it is the measure of one day…and sometimes that day is not your day. For whatever the reason, when you fail to finish the race, a whole cacophony of emotions follow…anger, guilt, embarrassment, betrayal, doubt, resentment, fear. You might quit. You might loudly declare that you’ll ‘defeat the race’ at some later time, yet find yourself unable to train again because it feels like starting over and you can never quite believe so deeply again. You might make the race your obsession, forgetting the joy and freedom that running once brought. You might rest and experiment with new goals and find your passion reborn.
Since that conversation, I’ve watched as both friends received a DNF at the WS100, as my sister walked down the aisle, and as my own partnership has undulated with new peaks, plains, and valleys. I find myself coming back to that race/marriage whenever I consider those memories and while it does not always provide me with encouragement or even reassurance, it does lend a new platform from which to view all decisions more completely, as though embracing the present moment, yet grounded in an untouched faith. To promise forever in a relationship is to promise that there will never be a DNF on your record. Those promises can only be kept by things you cannot control. Instead, I promise to make the journey worth it, no matter the outcome.
No comments:
Post a Comment