Fail Better

I can't remember what I was listening to...

but I do remember that I was driving and I was alone and it was glorious.

You know those moments where you're zoned on autopilot, driving to some location that you could navigate to in your sleep and all of a sudden, you hear something in the background that catches your attention.

It must have been a program on NPR and the interviewer was quoting the famous Irish playwright, Samuel Beckett, to which he said,

"Ever tried.  Ever failed.  No matter.  Try again.  Fail again.  Fail better."

And I was riveted. 

Lately, I've been passionate about the concept of imperfection.  After so many moons of needing to be in control, worried about what others think or how I'm perceived, I've decided that the messy life full of authentic, real, raw relationships is the place I want to be.

I just simply don't have the energy, the means or the interest in putting on a show.

That said, there are parts of me that want to get better and I find that when it gets down to it, I will push, but often stop when it's clear that if I push harder, I will most likely fail.

This happened to me during my most recent race.  I really wanted to PR or set a new personal record.  Once you run a race of a specific distance like a half marathon, you have a benchmark time.  Every subsequent race allows you the opportunity to run it faster or to arrive at a new PR.

Not knowing the course since the race was in its inaugural year, I decided that I would join a pace group.  The question was do I join the group that is 10 minutes faster than my current PR or 10 minutes slower?  Do I start fast and try to keep the pace or do I start slow, conserve my energy and then shoot out of the gate with a few miles left?

I started with the slower pace group because this is who I am at heart...radically fearful that I won't be able to hack the pace.  And then literally less than two miles in, I took off, because that's also the person I am, fearful that I won't actualize my full potential if I don't and not very good at staying the course.

I was jamming for the first 10 miles and then, the monotony of the course hit, my mojo started waning and all of the sudden, I saw my original pace group not far behind me.  Instantaneously, I kicked it into gear and ran as hard as I could vowing that I would leave everything I had on the course.

I PR'd but only by two minutes...not a huge win, but encouraging nonetheless.

In 2014, my mantra was "Fuck Fear."  It served me well.  I ran my first marathon, a 78-mile relay race and a half marathon.  I started writing more.  And I got closer to pushing the envelope with relationships that were important to me.

In 2015, I'm leaning towards, "Fail better."  I want to go bigger, bolder, harder knowing that I'm absolutely going to fall on my face in the process, but that there won't be any regrets hanging by the wayside.

I read today that Sam Simon, co-creator of The Simpsons is dying of colon cancer.  He's giving his $100 million fortune away to charity.  At the age of 59, he said that cancer, while painful and heart breaking teaches you very quickly about what's important.  And it's not money.  It's going after what makes your heart sing and helping others pursue their dreams along the way.

Maybe we should all seek to fail better.

Kicking Ass Taking Names

"Are you home?  I'd love to swing by and bring you a coffee..."

"Shit...I'm already in the Starbucks drive through (shocker) and on the way to the library with my Claire Bear. Want to meet us?"

"On my way."

I feel extraordinarily blessed to have really great friends in my life.  Friends who are loyal.  Friends who are funny, witty, beautiful, and filled with a shit ton of wisdom. 

And this friend is particularly incredible.  I've taken to calling her the Phoenix.  Give her any set of circumstances and she will rise above the ashes and gracefully shine in the process.

And so while watching Claire gather her stuffed animal friends and gazads of books, we talked about the potential suitors in her life, taking care of our bodies, and possible career opportunities.

I told her that now that my kiddos are getting bigger, I'm trying to incorporate all of the parts of me that remind me most of "me" while still being a wholly committed wife and mother.  So, hopefully, the kick ass and take names academic and career-driven woman that I remember from my 20's still has a place in my life...if only modified and hopefully, a bit wiser and less insecure.

She agreed.  And said that she's pursuing a really fabulous job recognizing that now is the time in her life to go a bit more full throddle in the career department.  "What do have to lose?  I can do my best and if I hate it, I'm not wed to it. I can do something else. That's the best part about being older and wiser.  You realize that you do have what it takes, you just have to decide if it's really what you want."

Bingo.  I've been lamenting this whole getting older pushing my fortieth birthday thing and really for what?  It's got to be true that with age comes experience and with experience comes perspective and with perspective comes preference and ultimately, when you've landed where you feel most engaged, utilized and happy in your heart, you know that you're where you're supposed to be...which is the really what it's all about.

So, in the final moments of 2014, I reassert my New Year's resolution, "Fuck fear." Go out and do your thing.  Kick ass and take names in whatever way you need to show up in your life.  What do you have to lose?  Nothing other than a big bag of regrets.

Palpable Fear

I'm half way through marathon training.

This weekend, I'm staring down my longest run to date...17 miles...and it feels well, unbelievable, as in, I can't believe that I'm going to do it.

Throughout this process I never would have guessed that the greatest demon I'd be wrestling with is my own fear.  I was certain that it would be an assorted injury...plantar fasciitis, shin splits, IT band troubles, aching calves, exhaustion, fatigue.  And, I suppose I should knock on wood because on any day, any of those issues could turn into my new plight.

But for now, my greatest enemy is me. 

At the start of the year, I decided that my New Year's resolution would be the mantra, "Fuck fear." I would stare fear in the eyes and not quake or be consumed, but rather I would consume it and move forward living my life.

But that's the funny thing about an enemy as powerful as fear...once it knows that you intend to own it, it puts up one hell of a fight.

And by fight, I mean that it crops up at the most unpredictable and surprising times.  It won't just be the usual, getting the shoes laced up and heading out to pound the pavement...no, it will happen in the shower or when I'm talking to a friend and someone says, "That's so inspiring what you're doing.  I can't even imagine running a marathon."  And I think, shit...neither can I...And then it does happen on the training runs when two or three miles from completion, a side stitch comes on, the north wind howls, and I'm certain that this is bull shit and why would anyone in their right mind, do this.  Or my favorite is when I'm running past a commercial building with reflective glass windows and catch a glimpse of myself and it's not pretty at all.  Huffing, puffing, red in the face, moving at a snail's pace...nothing at all like the hot Lululemon girls or the bad ass Nike ads...just me.

And then the fear becomes tangible, palpable, real, hard core and unforgiving.

And suddenly, I'm alone.  Really, really alone.

So what in the fuck am I going to do?

Well, I've decided that instead of beating it, I'm going to try to respect it.  Because for better or for worse, fear has done a lot for me in my life.  At the 11th hour, it's pushed me toward accomplishing things that I didn't know I could and am still unsure of how they got done.

Instead of strangling it, I think I'll run alongside it and call out when the going gets rough.

I think I'll take it one run at a time trusting that like every other force in the world, fear has its place as do I.  I'm praying that we can coexist together, one step at a time.