What Winning a Road Race Teaches About Success
Three of the most important life lessons illustrated by a 5k victory
I recently ran a 5k race that reinforced some important lessons about life.
But before I get to them, here’s what happened.
I showed up early to the race site on a crisp Fall day, then warmed up with a 20 minute jog. I stripped off my sweatpants, did a few stretches, and walked to the starting line, positioning myself close to the front of 500-plus other runners and walkers lined up.
I’d put in the work, and I was here to compete among the top runners. I was planning on a podium finish — top three.
The race director came onto a megaphone: “Because of social distancing, to keep everyone safe, we’re gonna start in waves of 20, with the lowest bib numbers going first.”
I looked down at my bib: 487. Dejectedly, I walked to the back of the pack, where parents pushing babies in strollers, walkers, and casual runners were positioned.
The race got started with the first group of 20 off to a fast start. Then another…and another…and another. As each wave went, so too went my hopes for a top finish.
Would I be sandbagging this race?
I looked over at a nearby tent staffed by the race company sponsoring the event. “Do the numbers correspond to your projected finish time?” I asked. “Yes,” one of the staff answered. “Oh, well then I should’ve been at the front.”
I waited expectantly.
“400 to 420 — GO!”
“420 to 440 — GO!”
“The rest of you — GO!”
Five minutes later it was my turn to go.
I shot out from the start line like a bat out of hell, weaving through thick crowds. The frontrunners were maybe a mile away at this point, but that didn’t stop me from trying to catch them.
I was a man on a mission, manically making up lost ground.
“GET IT, YEAH!” A woman pushing a stroller yelled out as I flew by.
Then came my first obstacle: a sustained uphill. I couldn’t see where it ended. Chris, keep your composure — you can do this without slowing down.
A minute later my Garmin watch read 5:30 per mile pace. I had managed to hold steady. But one thing had changed: I was breathing quite heavily. The hill had gassed me.
Can I keep this up?
There was no one around to push me, and I was thick in the weeds of a mental war between backing off and surging ahead. I continued to weave around walkers and slower runners.
What’s the use?
Self-doubt grabbed the wheel, quickly steering me toward a disappointing ending. With every foot-strike my inner critic — that son-of-a-bitch voice of dissent — tried to sell me on self-defeat. It screamed for me to just give up already, because I was clearly not going to make my goal of finishing top three.
It was just too uncertain at this point. The front pack had already finished the race by now.
I charged the next hill, the critic still calling the shots.
GIVE UP!!!
But I didn’t.
And then a funny thing happened. I relaxed; I gave up caring. The critic went silent. My mind cleared, my breathing slowed down, my gait went from strained to fluid.
I focused on the newfound lucidity. Everything felt effortless. I was suddenly in a flow state.
About a minute later I glanced down at my watch. 5:35…5:30…
I crested the last hill, making a hard right onto a meandering parkway leading to the finish. By now I was competing with runners who were trying to keep up with me as I caught them and then pushed ahead.
The pack had also thinned out to a bottleneck at this point — a tell-tale sign of higher caliber runners chasing faster times than the average joe.
Then, there it was: the finish line. With about 200 meters to go, I kicked it into high gear, racing against a teenager who had decided to challenge me in the final steps. I pulled ahead of him in the last 50, cruising through the finish line as fresh as I’d felt all race.
26:19 the race clock said, the total time elapsed. I looked down at my watch. 17:47, a 5:44 per mile pace. Not a PR but not a bad effort.
How’d I do?
I had no idea. There was no fanfare, no one rushing over with a medal or trophy, as is often the case with a top finish.
I stuck around for a few minutes to watch other runners come through the chute, then unceremoniously threw my sweaty singlet in a gym bag, got in my car, and drove home.
I checked the results later that day. Nothing posted yet. Doubt crept back in, the inner critic speaking up.
You probably didn’t place. Get ready to be disappointed.
I know it’s not a good habit, but I’ve often measured my self-worth by other runners. If I’m not as good as that runner, than I must not be that good. It’s a kind of mental abuse I put myself through in every race.
I went to bed still thinking about the race.
Had I really given it a good showing? How did I stack up against the frontrunners?
First thing in the morning I flipped open my laptop. The results were posted.
I WON! I was elated. But it was short-lived, because celebrating the victory by myself was a lousy substitute for the camaraderie of crossing the line with the other top finishers.
My raceday result was the perfect metaphor for some important lessons about success.
Don’t give up — no matter what.
What often separates those that achieve their dreams and those that don’t is perseverance in spite of all obstacles. The most important characteristic of a successful person is a willingness, and inner drive, to keep going.
Permanence, perseverance and persistence in spite of all obstacles, discouragements, and impossibilities: It is this, that in all things distinguishes the strong soul from the weak. — Thomas Carlyle
Often, the only difference between you and a successful person you admire is that they got started earlier.
A slow start is still a start, and with hard work, grit, and determination, you can always catch up.
It’s never too late to be what you might have been. — George Eliot
The real race is with yourself, not with someone else.
Will you settle for mediocrity or will you pull out a personal best effort? Though society sells us on the idea that we’re in competition with each other, the competition was only ever, really, with what’s inside. To achieve our highest potential or not— that’s the only competition that matters.
It’s not the size of the dog in the fight, it’s the size of the fight in the dog. — Mark Twain
So go the distance, keep at it, and remember why you’re doing it in the first place. Whenever you start, incredible things can happen if you don’t give up.
