Marathon Commitment to Courage

We all have fears and for each of us they manifest in different ways. You may know the origins of your fear and you may know how to tackle it as you move through life. Personally, I am not so sure about where my fears root – perhaps there are many sources. Sometimes my fears will surface, seemingly out of the blue, at other times there is a predictability as to what will trigger this sometimes crippling emotion. I think the key is not whether we feel fear, but rather how we deal with it.

I have always said that it takes courage to decide to run or walk a marathon. Our first foray into this new realm can be intimidating, particularly for those of us who are not particularly athletic. We imagine the exhilaration of crossing the finish line, we covet the medal that will be presented by a smiling volunteer and we bravely decide that this is a challenge we will tackle.

Challenging a marathon is indeed a challenge – an enormous challenge that requires a commitment to courage that must endure through the months of training. I have coached many wonderful walkers and runners – some who persevered with the commitment to courage – many who succumbed to fear. Fear of the work involved. Fear of failure. And my personal favourite, fear of success.

It is this last group that has been on my mind lately – those of you who fear success. These are the people who desire the challenge but who throughout their training, and for no apparent reason, sabotage themselves. Now this group is particularly intelligent. They have a lengthy list of excuses that they will use to opt out of training and they are strongly committed to this list of excuses. “My work load just won’t allow me to get any training in this week.” “I can’t attend group training because its my husband’s staff party the night before.” “I am going away for the weekend with my friend who is going through a terrible divorce.” Lots of self-righteous excuses that bring work, friends, and family in as co-conspirators.

Now what is interesting about this group is that while they have their pat, self-righteous excuses, they don’t modify their training schedule to accommodate life’s other commitments. So this tells me that while they love the concept of the courage to decide to do a marathon, they are not committed to the courage. They love the admiration they get from others for the challenge, but they don’t love themselves enough to meet the challenge.

Now these people are easy for me to identify. But that’s because I have my own fears of success that whack me in the head on a regular basis. I know where they are coming from. I know the excuses. I know the technique of self-righteous excuses. But when it comes to trying to coach this person I find myself rather helpless to modify the behaviour. Sure I can nag you with fear of injury from lack of training, but in reality if you aren’t committed to courage I have little hope of reaching you. I must encourage but I do so with a low heart as I know what you are going through.

I have always found it interesting though that when it came time for me to challenge my first marathon I was committed throughout and life had to accommodate my training schedule – not the other way around. I trained for six months for my first marathon. Everything stopped. If someone wanted a piece of my schedule they did it on my terms. I wanted to cross that finish line. I dreamed of that medal – it motivated me through the hours of walking. I needed to feel the success of crossing that finish line, so I committed my whole life to keeping the courage to cross the finish line.

When I crossed the start line of the marathon I had my head held proud. Everyone was excited. There was a vibration humming in the air that was exhilarating. Everyone was focused on the finish line – 42.2 kilometers away! I zoomed out of the start with my normal zeal. I paced with my music and felt strong. The scenery was beautiful as I took in the sights of the city.

So it was somewhat of a shock when halfway through my first marathon, 13 miles, long before the usual marathon wall of 20 miles, my fear of success reared its ugly head. My cheering team was there on the side of the road, waving and smiling, yelling words of encouragement. After I passed them I started to cry. I was tired. I was in a city I didn’t know. I was hungry (which is pretty normal for me). I was just not interested in doing the second half! My pace dropped. I fought the tears -unsuccessfully.

Now being the analyzing type of personality that I am, I spent the next mile alternately crying and wondering what was causing this. I knew that it wasn’t because I thought that I couldn’t physically do the distance. Was it because I was lonely? I had trained by myself for months to find myself in this sea of people that I didn’t know. I asked myself many times “How did I get myself into this?” I so just wanted to go home!

Then I thought of the finish line and that wondrous moment when I would get my medal and “ding, ding, ding” the light went on. For some strange reason I was trying to sabotage myself into not getting that medal. People would see me cross the finish line. They would announce my name. People would be cheering me on. I wouldn’t be the anonymous walker that people saw walking the side roads of Nova Scotia. I realized that I didn’t want the attention.

Now how do you deal with this sort of fear? You either give in to it…quit the race…or tackle it head on and the hell with the anxiety! And that is just what I did. I tuned back into my music, selecting songs that peaked my pace. I threw myself into the event. Then a very long time later, I came around a curve and saw the finish line. And WHAM I got hit by an anxiety so strong that it knocked the breath out of me! My head spun. My feet lost their coordination. I struggled to move forward. I put my head down as the tears started. I pushed each foot forward laboriously. Suddenly it was as though I had cement blocks on my feet.

Many marathoners talk of a lightness that pushes them to accelerate once they see the finish line. This was certainly not my experience! It took all the courage I could summon to cross that line. My name got called as my timing chip crossed the first pad. The crowd cheered as I hit the final timing pad. Friends were jumping up and down with excitement. And I cried.

I cried with relief that it was over. I cried with pride that I had not given into my fear. It was hours later before I jumped up and down with the excitement of having achieved my goal.

Today the whole story seems totally ludicrous. Folks who know me will be surprised to learn that this is how my first marathon experience played out. And fortunately it never repeated itself. These days when I cross a finish line I am happy, excited, playful…and always very hungry!

We all have our fears. But again, its not about having the fear, but how we deal with it. I made a commitment to have the courage to cross the start line. At the time I just didn’t understand that it would take incredible tenacity to reach the finish line.

For my lovely friend Linda – Although I’m not there to push you through, I am always there in spirit, cheering you on!