The Sh#t Quit

We’ve all been there in some point in our lives. We’ve found ourselves at some portion of a race or events where we were no longer in control. And quitting is the only option …

The thought of quitting (for whatever reasons) comes into many long-distance cyclists and runners mind from time to time.  It’s part of the challenge, and it’s true!  I can count on my one hand the races I did not finish during my marathon journey.  I quit only once on a marathon at kilometre 35, I thought I was fine with my decision, I didn’t have anything left to prove, left to give.  But I was wrong! On my way back home, the torment and the regrets began to fester. I could not sleep for days thinking about the what ifs …

I am a perfectionist and an over achiever, one of those who thought she could outsmart the whims of the universe if she just planned, organized and worked hard enough. I can’t just give up the moment things got hard. I did this not only in sports, but also in my work life, my relationships (blah, this one!) and even with tasks as mundane as household chores.

I remember my marathon in Tromso, I was the second to last crossing the finish line (out of 2,500 runners, imagine that!). Brava told me to step off the course from kilometre 23, where I was shaking with cold and got mild hypothermia “You want me to drop out? You know I can’t!” In those days, even training (easy) runs were treated seriously; having to stop to tie a shoe or go for a toilet break would make me think twice, because I was running for personal achievements, kilometres logged, pace recorded and analyzed. Yes, I finished but I hardly remember my name:) Days following the Tromso marathon, I found out that my hypothermia can lead to complete failure of my heart. My body shutdown for days.

Two weeks ago, I participated in an ultra-cycling challenge 1500++ km, I felt my body failed me soon after kilometre 300. I made a long stop at the check-point to recover, but it was too late. Not only my body became weaker, my brain started to accept the sh#t quit.  I did something you rarely saw me doing, quitting. I decided to stop pushing my body to do things it doesn’t want to do.  Although deep in my heart I wanted so badly to stick it out because that’s what I do, it made me sick in my stomach thinking about the sleepless nights full of regrets on the following days. I don’t want to let myself down again and waste an opportunity I worked so hard to attain. It was such an emotional whirlwind.

I also felt shame and weakness in wanting to quit. In reality, many of us consider persistence is honorable and quitting to be shameful, and that we celebrate those who refuse to give up, even when faced with horrible illness. We love the story of those that faced endless adversity but managed to pull through and come out a champion. Sorry if it sounds cynical, but I am not. I am a dreamer too. I have visions of myself cycling/running fast and reaching my goals. I have those visions. Remember, I had been a runner that didn’t know when to walk away.

Today, I am fine most of the time, though I am still in the process of not blaming myself for the quit.  No doubt that it was the right course of action. But, still … In the meantime, I am leaving this for me and you: “When you take risks, you learn that there will be times when you succeed and there will be times when you fail, and both are equally important”