Last Sunday, more than 45,000 runners completed the 2016 Chicago Marathon.
I was “supposed” to be one of them. But I wasn’t.
I could say that I didn’t finish the race—or even start it, for that matter—because I didn’t have enough time to train. Because life had become so tumultuous with personal and family emergencies that the thought of getting in long runs was completely overwhelming. (That feeling is actually what inspired me to recently write “10 Ways to Stay on Track With Your Health Goals When Life Goes Crazy” for USNews.com.) I could say that I had planned to run with my boyfriend, and he wasn’t ready for the race, so I decided to defer my entry, too. While none of those statements are false (I’ve actually rattled off all of them over the past few weeks), now that I really think about it, none of them is the true reason that I didn’t run the Chicago Marathon.
The real reason is because I simply didn’t want it enough. Yes, I wanted to run a marathon—and I still do. I think it would be a great experience. I wrote here about how psyched I was to accomplish the feat, and some of you may have seen pics from my summer training runs on my Instagram account. At one point, I was pretty fired up about the whole thing.
But as the training runs grew longer, life stresses grew greater, and my desire to simply take care of myself grew to an all-time high (if you haven’t you should check out my recent post on self-care), I wanted to run the marathon less and less. Or, more specifically, I wanted to go out on my training runs less and less.
Instead, I wanted to lift weights. It’s funny how I “didn’t have time” for my training runs, but I had, and continue to have, plenty of time to complete one- to two-hour lifting sessions in the gym (and an occasional SoulCycle class) five to six days per week. And once I finally “gave up,” and deferred my marathon entry to 2017, I got pumped because then I was “allowed” to focus on lifting, getting stronger, and building muscle—something I was much more excited about at the time than I was about running.
When “Failing” Really Isn’t
None of this is to say that last weekend wasn’t painful. On the day of the Chicago Marathon, I could hear the jingling cowbells and cheers of the crowd from my condo. I went to the balcony and saw people crossing the finish line, one after another, for hours. Some of them were running, others were walking. They were all doing it, despite whatever else was going on in their life, and whatever limitations they faced. Undoubtedly, many of them were “busier” and “more stressed” than I was.
In real time, my Facebook and Instagram feeds filled with success stories of those who had completed the race. Some had gotten PRs. I wanted to be happy for them, but instead, I just felt like a failure.
I think it’s natural for us all to feel that way, like a failure, when we don’t accomplish a goal that we’ve set for ourselves, be it related to fitness, diet, career, or anything else. It’s human nature. But I also have to remember that I set Chicago 2016 as a goal a full year ago.
If I think about those 365 days and nights, so many things have happened in that time to change me, how I think about the world and myself, and what I want out of both. And the marathon just wasn’t high on the list any more.
That’s OK. Maybe, a year from now, it will be. Maybe, in 2017, I’ll finally run the Chicago Marathon. Maybe I won’t.
Either way, I know I’ll be giving my body what it needs, and that’s the only fitness goal that really matters year after year.