One Bite at a TIme

When I talk to people who aren't big exercisers about running a marathon, their first comment is usually, "Wow, 26 miles!  I could never run that long."

Usually I wince a tiny bit, thinking that they left off the .2, which sounds totally obnoxious unless you've run 26 miles and know that that .2 feels like the longest distance ever.  It's the distance between you and your family, between you and a medal, between you and a cold beverage, between you and finally getting to stop running.  Oh, and there's also the fact that at that point you've already run 26 miles and still have to keep going.

I don't tell them any of that though, I just tell them the truth, "Oh, anyone could run a marathon.  They just have to really want to do it."  I believe that 100%.  Sure, that's not to say everyone should.  If you're 95 years old, 8.5 months pregnant, a heavy smoker, and hate pain it might not be for you.  That said, I really believe that if you want to run a marathon, you can.  

I think it's like the old saying, "How do you eat an elephant?  One bite at a time."  You run a marathon one mile at a time.  You set little goals for yourself.  You distract yourself.  You listen to music, you people watch, you count things, you zone out, you think about what you're going to do when you're finished.  You make it happen.

Sometimes in my life I get in the terrible habit of looking at the elephant as a whole.  I see it standing in front of me, totally massive, ominous, and formidable.  Then I get overwhelmed and either break down and cry, yell at my mother and husband, or totally freak out that I can't handle it and am going to fall on my face.  

I need to learn to treat my life like a marathon and take it day by day, mile by mile.  I need to remind myself not to look at the big picture, but at the little tiny bites that seem like things that I can handle.  Sometimes I need to distract myself or zone out.  I need to reward myself for the little victories.  (Maybe those days I could substitute the elephant for a Whoopie Pie?)  Some days I might be able to tackle bigger parts than others, and that's OK.  It's all a part of the journey.

The F Word

I know what you're thinking, and yes, this word has four letters.  Fail.  F-A-I-L.  Have you ever seen such an ugly word?  It conjures up images of a scarlet F written on a paper and circled for emphasis.  It says you've lost.  That  you're a loser.  That bad things are coming.  That you messed up.  That you didn't plan accordingly.  That you're not good enough.

For many people, failure is a fate worse than death.  It's embarrassing.  Sometimes heartbreaking.  It's the same reason that people are so afraid of public speaking.  They're afraid they will make a fool of themselves, or be embarrassed, or get laughed at.  They are afraid that they will show the world their weaknesses and look foolish.

I love the question, "What would you do if you knew you would not fail?"  I think if we're honest with ourselves, there is probably a lot that we would do.  What would you do?  Would you go skydiving?  Put a bid down on your dream house?  Move to a new country?  Go back to school?  Run a marathon?  Lose 50 lbs.?  Adopt a child?  Run a 5 minute mile?  Apply for your dream job?  Be a reality TV star?  Do 10 push ups?  The sky is the limit... what would you do?

I have a challenge for all of you, and for myself.  Today I would like you to fail at something.  It could be little, like not being able to finish the New York Times Sunday Crossword, or a big, fall-down-on-your-face blunder.  You get extra credit for one of those.  

Just go out and fail at something today, and then smile about it.  You know why?  Because if you practice failing, it loses all of its power.  In opening yourself up to failure,  you set yourself up to reach higher standards than you ever would otherwise.  If you're not afraid to fail, you're not afraid to take risks.  And you know what the most successful and interesting people that I know all have in common?  At one point in their life, they stepped up and took a risk.  A leap of faith.  I hear-by give you official permission to make a fool of yourself.  Get to it.