Leave It At That

This morning I was beating myself up for not planning better. I was kicking myself for worrying and letting it hold me back. I was not happy with my results. I seriously had tears. Oh, I'm such a baby, but I'm telling you my story.

I only beat my last 12K race by four minutes.

Nope, I wasn't feeling pride for getting out and doing the race. I wasn't focusing on the fact that, compared to my first attempt 3 years ago, my performance improved. No soreness in my knees (which last time made me think I couldn't run anymore), no tightness in my muscles, and no headache or nausea. I would say that's a step up.

Instead, I was trying to make excuses. I slowed down to congratulate my husband on his first attempt at the 5K (how could I not?); I kept it cautious so I'd still feel good for next weekend's obstacle challenge; I raced without a rest day yesterday because I thought I was only going to do the 5K today; I backtracked two blocks because I went the wrong way. And, ugh, why did I go the wrong way? Because I was incessantly grumbling about how it didn't look like I was going to make my 70 minute goal and so I totally missed the marker that told me to turn.

This is a full representation of me. I tell myself how I could have done it more accurately or efficiently. I remind myself how I could change to be better. I don't cut myself any slack. Quite frankly, as I saw when I missed my turn, it doesn't encourage me to improve. It greatly discourages.

And the scary part is that what I tell myself regularly is written all over my face with my interactions with my daughter.

Yuck.

Every day she attempts new feats. She pushes her boundaries. She learns and grows. She amazes me. There are two responses that I can have. One is my pride shining through in joy for her accomplishments and support for her struggles. The other is my push to help her do it the absolute best of the best. You may understand this drive, or you may find it heartless. This push isn't meant to be discouraging. We want our children to do better than we did. We want them to make it in this world. But appreciation and patience goes a lot farther than high expectations. I see the effects of this in so many painful, stressful lives.

The last thing I want is for her to be a perfectionist like her mom. To be unable to act due to fear of failure. Or, conversely, do nothing because she could never please.

I want her to be able to forgive herself and move on. To enjoy the process. Enjoy the people alongside her in the journey (instead of repelling them). I want her to anticipate the challenges of the future with excitement instead of anxiety.

I pray my little darling will be able to say, "Yay, look what I did!" Even if it wasn't what the next person did. She'll be able to look at her own growth, her own effort, and her own accomplishments. This comparing that we are bombarding each other with distracts from the true challenges and goals. And the adventure and beauty along the way.

If she just plain didn't cut it, I want her to acknowledge it and move on. There is too much ahead to strive for to be stuck in what has passed.

Sure, I didn't prepare for today like I should have. But fretting about it won't increase my time. Worrying about it won't turn back the clock. Thinking about it won't decrease the emotions I felt for being so far behind. Whining to my husband won't help him see me as any better.

I'm a runner. Great. I did it. Wonderful. Leave it at that.