When it all doesn’t go according to the plan, then what?

While we like to think that our teachers, parents, coaches and mentors have all the answers, we know that they do not. In fact we know that they most likely have some of the answers because they made a mistake along the way and learned something from it. Believe it or not on more than one occasion I have not had the race of a lifetime. In fact it is called the race of a lifetime because it is just that, a rare occurrence. But there is a spectrum of possible results ranging from race of a lifetime to ultimate disaster. While I personally would rather sludge through an unbearably long Ironman or marathon than DNF (and I have, on more than one occasion), I sometimes wish for that decision to be made for me. If I broke something I would have to drop out, but just because it hurts, I’m going slow, I’m nauseous, I’m hot- these are not reasons to throw in the towel. I have seen goal times come and go with miles left in the race and I take solace and find camaraderie with the other folks still out there- after dark, fighting their own demons to cross that finish line and in so doing solidify something about ourselves- that something may be no more than stubbornness, but its something- just as a DNF means something too. Quitting is always easier in the moment and much much harder in the long run. We don’t take on the task of triathlon because we are quitters, we take it on because we are looking for a challenge, we are looking to find ourselves, to prove something about ourselves, to learn about ourselves. And so in unbearably long races- we learn a lot…
A sage and seasoned triathlete told me “You go it done. I am sure you learned a lot about yourself. If you enjoy the training, the racing and the lifestyle of it, keep doing it. If not, then do what you love.” The day after an embarrassingly long race it is hard to say with clarity if I do actually love the sport- in fact I thought it rather stupid and idiotic at the moment, but now sitting here weeks later, I don’t think it’s stupid at all. In fact I think it takes a lot of courage to finish something knowing full well that it is not going to produce the expected results.
My mother tells me I should be proud of just finishing- I have finished more than one Ironman- I have won my age group, I have competed in Kona- I don’t go out there to “just finish.” And while some athletes do- and I applaud them for that- as a coach, I strive to help them achieve that- I personally am out there to better my previous performance- anything less does feel like a failure. But what would be more of a failure would be quitting. I don’t quit. But I would be lying if I didn’t admit to thinking about it- for the latter half of the bike leg in fact. I thought, what would be worse a DNF or an Ironman finish time 3 hours slower than my personal best? DNF was the answer I came up with and I trudged on.
One month later I can say there is no shame in that. But the fact is I crossed the finish line with a smile on my face for having the whole ordeal over with, and with my head bowed, knowing that I was, in fact, embarrassed about my time and my performance.
As a coach I just today wrote an email to an athlete who did not meet his goals for a race and I told him that the best thing he could do was hold onto the lessons he had learned out there, and move on. Walk away from the event and towards the next a wiser and more seasoned athlete; after all it is much easier to dispense advice than to adhere to it myself.
Around CTS the seasoned coaches are fond of saying don’t ask me how I know (fill in the blank), just trust me on this one. Well the truth is they gather (we all gather) much more information from the events that don’t go as planned than the ones that fall perfectly into place. As coaches we have a plethora of knowledge because most of us have made every mistake in the book- and we can save our athletes from making the same mistake by dispensing the advice we learned from our adverse experiences. I tell some of my athletes that I product test for them by trying every iteration of hydration systems until I find what I most prefer. This is not to say that personal variation isn’t important, but it is helpful to have the input of someone who has actually experienced the adversity of each and every failed attempt.
As coaches and athletes we try to control things. We try to control what we take in nutritionally, we try to control our pacing, we try to control our hydration, but sometimes despite our best laid efforts at meticulous bike maintenance, copious carb loading and months and months of early mornings and long weekends devoted to training, everything just falls apart on race day. We like explanations for events. When things go according to plan, we often attribute it to our training, our effort (even our coaches) but what about when they don’t. Again coaches take some of the fall, but after that- then what? Sometimes there are just no explanations- and we don’t like that at all. Perhaps that is what keeps us coming back for more though; that illusive perfect day, when everything does fall into place.
Okay I have to admit that my training wasn’t as perfect as it could have been. In the middle of my Ironman training I moved. Now moving is one of life’s biggest stressors. Not only did I leave an area I loved, I moved across the country to take a risk. The risk was a calculated one, but a risk none the less. Oh and I am still working and finishing my dissertation. So not only is there transition happening, there is stress too- stress on top of learning new bike routes and run routes, finding new masters programs and trying desperately to find training partners. Not ideal for an Ironman training plan. What I learned from this experience is that while I truly believe that my mother can do it all- and she does, I swear, I however, am a mere mortal and I cannot. Something has to give, it is not possible to do it all well (when by all I mean a job, dissertation, moving, transition, training etc etc). We make choices in life and these choices effect everything around us- the choice I made to move effected my Ironman. I don’t regret my move, but I do acknowledge that Ironman training (while for most of us must fit around our day to day lives) is time consuming and stressful enough without the addition of transition and change. While our worth is not determined by our finish times, it feels as though it is in the moment. Our worth- our being- is instead solidified in the moments that make up the big picture, that get us to race day. Each and every action, decision and training session make us who we are. Whether we are 9hr Ironman finishers or 17hr Ironman finishers, we are warriors, we are survivors, we are commitment, driven, (often obsessive as my research shows) and dedicated. That is who we are, not our finishing times.
So bottom line, we learn much much more from the events that don’t go according to plan, than from the ones that do. We take a deep look into ourselves, our motivations and our demons and we persevere despite egos, aching legs and upset stomachs. That is who we are and that is why we race- to strip away the exterior, the comfort, the complacency, and to expose the core, the essence of who we are. Race days that don’t go according to plan provide the biggest opportunity for learning and growth because we are faced with a choice, quit because it isn’t going well, or carry on despite the egoic and muscular pain of it all. Next time you are out there what will you choose?