It has been a year since I’ve shared my thoughts in this space but few days have gone by where this blog hasn’t been on my mind. In part, that is because I’m still paying a fee to keep my domain name. But even aside from the small dent in my wallet, thoughts of running and mental health have been living with me for the last 365 days. And naturally, rather than allowing myself to engage in the therapeutic exercise of sharing them here I have been choosing the path of avoidance. 

Maybe because I was embarrassed, or uninspired, or maybe just unsure of what to say. But, here I am.

The truth is, my experience at last year’s Boston Marathon messed with me in more ways than you might imagine. Even now I can still hear my demons relentlessly whispering words of failure, defeat, and regret.

Let’s talk about it…

Just days leading up to my Boston debut I filled this blog with words of hope, excitement, and pride. I rambled about how committed I had been to my training while expertly maintaining balance in my life. I told you all that I deserved success when, perhaps, I didn’t deserve it at all. 

I had been so sure that all of the interval training, hill workouts, long runs, and rest days had set me up for a solid race day. I had finally become comfortable fueling on the go and pacing myself in such a way that I’d finish twenty-mile training runs feeling like I could continue on for another ten. I knew I wasn’t about to blow anyone’s mind with a killer time, but I was sure I could run all the way to the finish line and, more importantly, enjoy the journey to get there. 

So when I didn’t, I was confused, embarrassed, and broken. 

I’m still not sure why I had such a tough day—probably a combination of my solo training, starting out too fast, lack of downhill training, the pressure that came with the environment, mental defeat, etc. There are many, many things I could have done differently. But, as time has gone by I’ve stopped caring so much about why I performed the way that I did and instead, have shifted my focus to one of trying to understand why that day, that race, is still taking such a toll on me. 

Here’s what I have come up with… 

Most runners would agree that our sport is a sort of metaphor for life. In fact, that ideal may even qualify as a cliche at this point. The starting line, the journey, the physical and mental pain, the reward. You get the idea. Basically, you get out of it what you put into it. 

So with this, I subconsciously allowed my Boston Marathon experience to become more than a race. It was a test of my strength, my work ethic, my ability to finish what I started, and a measure of my worth. So when it didn’t go well, I questioned all of these things. 

The marathon felt like another thing in life that I should have worked harder for, but didn’t. Another thing that could have been better if I had been more committed. Another thing I could have pushed through and reaped the reward of if I hadn’t given up. Another reason to feel disappointed in myself and to believe others are disappointed in me, too. 

I have been giving that race more credit than it deserves. 

In life and in running, there will always be those times where you look back and say, “if only I…” And while this type of reflection can be quite helpful, there is a fine line between helpful and tremendously harmful. 

It does us no good to zero in on our regrets so much so that we are standing in our own way, blocking the path forward. We cannot become better versions of ourselves when all we do is wish the past were different.

It’s something I’m working on, and feel challenged by every day. But I’m tired of being crippled by the past and more than ever I want to move forward and become a better me. I owe that to myself, and “want power” goes a long way.

Here’s to growth, new opportunities, and moving on.