Humble Pie
Every time we fail we get a choice—admit defeat, or roll up our sleeves and get to work. Either way, it’s a lesson.
When I turned 64 I set a goal of running the Boston Marathon five years in a row. I hadn’t been running much for over a decade, but I managed to qualify (barely) and headed to Bean Town.
It was hard. But I squeaked through and managed a good enough time to automatically qualify for the following year.
And then I failed.
Finishing well
A lot goes through your head when you’re standing at the start line of an endurance race, like a marathon. You’re worried how close you are to the start line, did you eat enough, and can I sneak one more visit to the portapotties?
I try to think about finishing well.
I want to sail across the finish line with a smile on my face and energy to burn. I picture myself enthusiastically thanking volunteers, slapping some fellow runners on the back, and taking a hero selfie framed by the arch of the inflated finish line banner. It will be epic.
My second Boston was a wet slap of reality.
I ran my first half close to the time I wanted, but I could feel the wheels were coming off. It was unusually hot for April (I got sunburnt) and the heat was sapping my energy. When I reached the Newton Hills and Heartbreak Hill I had only 12km to the finish but it might as well have been another marathon. I was done.
Instead of feeling like a hero, I was thinking about the training I should have done, the rest I should have taken, and the complete lack of planning that left me dragging my sorry ass down Boylston Street.
It was a complete failure - on top of the pain I was in, I’d missed my qualifying time by at least a quarter of an hour and was not a shoo-in for my third Boston.
I had two choices:
Claim victory and move on with life (quit). After all, I did run two Bostons in my 60’s.
Or eat a slice of humble pie and get to work.
“The world breaks everyone, and afterward, some are strong at the broken places.” – Ernest Hemingway
The long road
Daniel Handler’s first novels were received with publisher’s rejections. A lot of them. It wasn’t until he ate a little humble pie and took a completely different literary direction with The Series of Unfortunate Events (all-time favourites for my girls) under the pseudonym Lemony Snicket that he found fame.
When Simone Biles admitted to her mental health issues and walked away from the Tokyo Olympics she could have retired. Already a six-time world champion, and two-time Olympian with a small warehouse of trophies she had nothing to prove. Instead, she ate humble pie, recovered, and resurfaced at the Paris Olympics winning three golds and a silver.
In the tech world, pivots are de rigueur and the fodder of start-up chat rooms. The internal communications tool, Slack was born out of Stewart Butterfield’s failed gaming company. When Tobias Lutka and his partner Scott Lake discovered no one bought snowboards in the summer they went back to the whiteboard and invented Shopify.
The list of founders who had a slice of humble pie and got back in the game includes Twitter (podcasts), Netflix (VHS rentals), YouTube (dating site), Nokia (lumber mill), and Instagram (share photos).
Returning home from Boston I knew there was a slice of humble pie waiting for me.
Humble pie
I had to return to Boston - I wasn’t sure what it would take, but tucking my tail between my legs wasn’t an option.
So I got to work.
Within days of returning home I signed up for the same qualifying marathon I ran for my first Boston. That gave me three months to prepare.
I found a coach who worked out a training plan to get my mileage up but also my speed. Every short run, long run, and interval training was mapped out. I printed out the schedule, taped it to the fridge, and committed to never miss a workout. Whatever was going on that week, or however good I felt - I was committed.
I bought a watch. Sounds silly, but I hadn’t worn a watch in over a dozen years and I didn’t know what I was missing. Now I could get accurate feedback on my pace, cadence, heart rate, and intervals. And, most importantly for a guy in his mid-60’s, I could set my effort based on heart rate, not speed.
And I got to work.
My marathon
Fast forward three months and I ran my best marathon since I was in my 30’s. As I came through the last 10 km’s I knew my time was good and I felt amazing. I was relaxed, I had put in the work, I had complete confidence in my body, and, as a friend likes to say “I was just handing in my homework.”
As I walked through the finish line crowd a volunteer standing behind a small table asked what my age was. “Sixty-six,” I said. “Oh, hey” she replied with a big smile, “you’ve won your age group!”
It turns out that not only did I win my age group (by 12 minutes), but I also beat my cut-off for Boston by almost half an hour!
Order up the Lobster roll and Cannoli - I’m going to Boston!
Lessons
My life is a collection of wins and fails.
I put on my shoes and go for my run. Or I make an excuse and skip it.
I follow up on the meeting and move the project forward, or I throw my notes on my desk promising I will get to it.
I make a plan for the week and stick to it, or treat it like all my other goals and let distractions run my day.
I kept my promise not to drink alcohol tonight, or I caved, opened that beer, and had one more.
How I play the game of life is ultimately and always all up to me. Win or fail.
See you in Boston.
Enough about marathons and running, here are 3 articles about life:
Why you need to Plan like a Pilot to get super organized, laser focused and insanely productive