Failing

I hate running.

Seriously.

I love the idea of it. I read other's accounts of their "running journeys" and I am jealous. This "runner's high" of which they speak has always seemed so foreign to me. When I meet a new friend who is a runner I asked them questions and try to catch a small piece of their enthusiasm (runners always seem so enthusiastic) hopidng that somehow it will rub off on me. I love Title Nine and Athleta with all of their girly running clothes. I love pink running shoes and running music. I love the idea of being able to run virtually anywhere you travel. I love that it is cheap.

For those that know me, I have had running a marathon on my bucket list since the 7th grade.

The older I get, the more this dream gets further and further away. This of all my goals should be fairly simple given that there are no special rules, equipment, or teammates required for running. It is simply a matter of consistent endurance and discipline. Perhaps this is where I strike out the most.

I have always been very good with accomplishing goals that required little preparation or come naturally to me. I do not like to attempt things that do not feel good or that I am not good at. I often only invest time into things that I know have a successful outcome. I hate to fail.

For the last four weeks a handwritten recipe card has accompanied me to the gym with alternating intervals of walking and jogging. Three days a week I have successfully completed what was required. By the end of many of these sessions I am actually grinning through the pouring sweat. (Something I never expected) This schedule is predetermined to ensure I am adequately prepared for race day. This week was the first time that I have been unable to successfully complete the routine.  I felt behind and concerned that I would be unable to reach my end goal with this set back. Monday and Tuesday I completely failed. I really wanted to just say "that was a nice idea, but it isn't for me".

Today was a new day. I did it. It wasn't pretty. It wasn't fun. By the end, there was certainly no smile on my face. I honestly started crying. Luckily I was sweating so profusely, I couldn't tell the difference between sweat and tears.

It was tough. The routine was probably something many would look at and say "well anyone could do that". For me it was monumental.

I need to learn to fail.

I came across this timely quote from Elder Paul V Johnson in an Ensign article from 2011 in my reading today:

"Sometimes we want to have growth without challenges and to develop strength without any struggle. But growth cannot come by taking the easy way. We clearly understand that an athlete who resists rigorous training will never become a world-class athlete. We must be careful that we don’t resent the very things that help us put on the divine nature."

I guess I will be back to the treadmill for more tomorrow.