I failed to meet the standard I set for myself yesterday. It hurts.
It’s 2 am and I can’t sleep even though I just ran/walked a long way. I failed publicly. I’m not going to give excuses, I’m not going to inflate my ego bringing up past accomplishments. I’ll meet this head on: I did not run well.
I don’t understand why.
Hence I’m up early.
I will freely admit that I don’t receive criticism or failure well. There is an emotional attachment to everything I do and I take things personally. When candid I can admit this. I know it holds me back.
But what if I carried this the way a scientist carries failure. As data. You fail, you learn, you adjust, you try again until you receive the outcome you want. Training is failure. You push yourself to your end point, break down your muscle and then allow for the muscles to regenerate, adapt, and come back stronger. SAID principle. Today I’m broken, tomorrow I’m stronger.
But Man… I was strong leading up to this. And I bombed. Absolutely bombed.
Maybe I should carry this like like Antoine Walker would. Antoine was a Celtics forward known for 3 things:
- complaining about fouls
- poor shot selection
- and this…
A reporter once asked ‘Toine about one particularly ill advised half court heave he made with time on the shot clock and open teammates,
‘Antoine, why’d you take that 3?’
‘Because there isn’t a 4.’
Gunners mentality. The next one’s going in.
Stars were aligning against a good run early yesterday: My legs were weak early on, the heat was having an affect.
But my training went well. so I pushed it. Something good was going to happen.
I went for it.
ODDS AND ENDS ON THE COURSE:
When things unraveled I got down on myself, had a little pity party but I decided not to quit. What kept me going? I have some teammates on St. Jude who were going to run 5 or 6 hour marathons. I knew that they would not be quitting, so I knuckled down, swallowed my pride and finished. My friends, if you read this, you know who you are. Champions aren’t the only ones who inspire. Now you know I’m not bullshitting you when I say you inspire me.
Drums along Comm Ave were awesome.
One sign said fall down 5 times, get up 6. That is mathematically impossible. It would be fall down 5, get up 5. I hear the sentiment, but it is impossible to get up more than you fall.
Team St. Jude raised almost $150k to save sick children. I personally received over $1,000 on Monday. Thank you to all my friends.
Over 100 friends reached out with kind words after I wrote that I bombed. My cousin Brett, the funniest guy I know, dropped this gem on me post race:
“It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.” – T Roosevelt.
Lastly, most importantly, my friend Christie donated to my St. Jude charity earlier in the week. She found out yesterday, Marathon Monday, that she has lymphoma. Let’s make a deal, Christie. Let’s beat our demons. You beat cancer, and I’ll run another qualifier, raise money for St. Jude next year and then crush the Boston Marathon.
That was only one race. Next one is going in.
We got this.