What I Learned from Running a Marathon

My bucket list was pretty short: Run a marathon and write a book.

The book is a long way off—I'll need to come up with something to write about first—but for several years I've thought somewhat seriously about running a marathon. I kept putting it off because I didn't think I had the time to train. But finally, last summer, I signed up for my first marathon. I figured life was only going to get busier, so this was my shot.

I set a goal of running the marathon in under 4 hours, which is a popular target for amateur runners. It's sufficiently difficult to be an impressive accomplishment, but it's also attainable. I knew that I'd only have one chance to run a marathon—at least until my kids were in college—so I was laser focused on breaking 4 hours in this race. I paced my training runs accordingly, and I told family and friends about my goal. I was confident I was capable of breaking 4 hours, but I didn't know whether I'd actually be able to do it, if that makes sense.

On race day, I started out well. At the halfway point, I was a few minutes ahead of a 4-hour pace and feeling great. I could afford a little slip in my pace and still meet my goal.  

Things started to change a few miles later. I started to feel lethargic, and my legs were getting heavier. By mile 19, I was ready to give up. My legs felt dead, my stomach hurt, and I had no energy left. Mentally, I was ready to quit. I walked for a minute or so while I got my head straight. I started running again, but I couldn't get back to my normal pace.  

By about mile 24, I knew I wasn't going to break 4 hours. I had nothing left for a final kick. I was sure I could finish, but there was no way I could finish strong. When I crossed the finish line, I met up with my wife and daughter and then lay down in the grass. I was done. I had missed 4 hours by a little less than 3 minutes.

I had pictured the moment when I would cross the finish line, and I had expected to feel a complete sense of accomplishment. All of my hard work would have paid off as I broke 4 hours. But I didn't feel that way. On one hand, I felt a sense of relief and joy—I completed a bucket list item! However, I also felt that I failed. I wanted so badly to break 4 hours, and I couldn't do it.

A few minutes later, we went inside the school to pick up my certificate. As a volunteer wrote my time on the paper, I felt a little disappointed, because the number started with a 4. I remember thinking that I'd never forget my time.

Now, 6 months later, I don't remember my full time. I don’t really even remember much of the race. I remember the mid-point turnaround and the really tough moments, such as mile 19 and the last few miles, which seemed to be straight uphill. But most of the race is a blur.

What I do remember is the training. I remember my long Sunday afternoon runs on the NCR Trail, when I'd put on the Hamilton soundtrack and run for a few hours. My life is wonderful, but it can also be emotionally and mentally demanding at times, and I cherished those hours when I could lose myself in the woods and the music. I also remember that for a few days before each long run, I'd feel anxious about whether I could actually run that far, and then I'd feeling so accomplished when I finished. And I remember driving home from the trail with the sunroof open, drinking Gatorade and blaring music.

I knew that running a marathon would help shape my character for the better. I thought I would look back at my marathon experience and draw strength from the fact that I had set my mind on breaking 4 hours, worked hard, and achieved success. I thought it would be a testament to what I can accomplish through effort, dedication, and persistence. And this lesson would help propel me in future challenges.

Moments after finishing.
"Daddy, come run with me!"

But I ended up learning some different lessons. I learned to appreciate the process of working toward a goal. I know I'll be better about celebrating progress along the way and being thankful for opportunities to pursue goals.   

I also gained a renewed appreciation for my limitations. Throughout my life, I've often put too much confidence in my ability to succeed based on my effort and mental strength. Although I have failed on many occasions, with new challenges my default setting is to believe that if I work hard enough, I'll succeed. Failing to break 4 hours, despite my best effort, was a healthy reminder that this mindset is flawed.  

Most importantly, I learned, again, that it is OK to fail. The world doesn't end. Now, I am more confident in trying new things, because I am more comfortable with the idea of failure. I will surely fail many more times in my life, and now I'm better equipped to handle those setbacks.