Three tales about goals. Tale One: For the love of...
My battle with goal setting came to a head this past week. It sucked and it was amazing all at the same time. Well at first it just sucked. Now that my deepest battle wounds have been tended to, I am surrounded by new found lightness and power. So I want to tell you three tales. Three tales about goals.
The first is about a slave. The second is about a golden-haired girl and three bears. The third is about a battle won by failure.
For the love of...
My phone beeped. Shit! This couldn`t be happening.
I glanced at my arm band. My battery was about to die. Shit! Shit! Shit!
I was no where near my goal of 30 km. My Nike Running App had just given me my stats. I was nearing 18 km and going steady. My pace was 5 minutes 22 seconds per kilometre. A good pace. I was just past the halfway mark of what would be the longest run of my life. I was feeling great. Confident I would achieve what I set out to do.
My phone couldn't be dying with 12 km to go. How would I know when I arrived at the finish? How would I know I had completed my goal? How would I know if I was keeping a good pace? And how would I be motivated to keep up my pace for all 30 kilometres without that voice in my ear reminding me each kilometre?
I know, I know, its just a Nike Running App. And yes I have run without it. And yes I did map out my run before I started, so I knew where I had to end up in order to get in 30 km. But for a few moments it seemed important. It actually crossed my mind that I could stop at the nearest Starbucks and see if I could borrow someone's iPhone charger for a bit before continuing on my run (crazy, I know).
My phone died. I cursed. I stopped running and stood there for a moment. I took a deep breath.
And then the hilarity of my frustration hit me. I was really caught up in it. I began to laugh at the thoughts that had been running through my mind. I couldn't believe how much power I had given away to a little talking box strapped to my arm.
I called deep on my courage. It was time for me to take it back.
I started running. I stared into the hugeness of the ocean. I felt the wind.
I focused my thoughts inward. I focused on my legs; I felt their strength propelling me forward. I focused on my feet; how they felt as they landed on the pavement, carrying my body with each step. I focused on my heart; I felt it beating, giving me life. I focused on the space I had created; I felt it expand and spread through my body.
I remembered my why. I remembered what I love about running. I remembered the marathon I was working towards.
I remembered choice. I remembered trees. I remembered strength.
I ran the remaining 12 km without record or reminder. It was no longer a have to. I just ran.
For the love of running.
Image credit 1