Today, I stepped back on the track. Once upon a time, I spent a lot of time on these things. I loved the sport and even though my racing days are a distant past (except the sporadic 5K), I still enjoy a good run.
I can’t tell you the last time I ran on a rubber surface to complete a workout. The only reason I did today was because I’m sick of working-out indoors, 400 repeats on a treadmill sounded dreadful (they’re dreadful anywhere to be honest), the facility was nearby, and the kids were occupied so I had a rare moment of time and flexibility.
When I walked onto the surface in the crisp morning air that is all things March, memories flooded in. The feel and smells were all the same. Yes, track has a smell. It felt natural and yet different. As I took off on my first 400, I felt free but carried the weight, both physically and emotionally, different than all those years ago. I finished my lap and my time was off from what it once was. In that moment, I could go one of two ways.
I could choose defeat. You see, I used to measure my progress and success by a personal race against the clock towards goals of a ticket to state or the opportunity to run at the collegiate level. There’s nothing wrong with that. It was once my passion and kept me healthy and motivated. It was what it took to hit those milestones and opportunities that were important to me. However, it wouldn’t be appropriate to measure myself by the same standard today, especially since it was my first time out. I had to remember I now carried the wear and tear of years and miles. The stress my body went through to bring two beautiful children into the world, one of which was a difficult birth. The shift in priorities, the responsibilities, the lessons learned. Yes, much has changed since those days gone by.
Today I decided to go a different way. I chose to celebrate. I still raced against the clock, but I choose a reasonable target for my current condition. I didn’t beat myself up when I came around corners and remembered times I once could hit, but focused on the new time target and finishing the workout. I reminded myself that I had used my time wisely that morning, I had shown up and I had finished the task. I allowed myself to realize that I would see result if I kept up that work and while it may never be what it once was, celebrate what it is today with the blessing and challenges that have come with age. This is hard to do. Old demons and doubts will surely appear from time to time, but keeping expectations high yet realistic is key. A healthy dose of grace never hurt either.
How have you had to change your expectations, standards and goals over the years and how do you celebrate the success even if they look different? I would love to hear what’s working for you. It doesn’t have to be a sports situation, but anything from work, to a hobby, friendships, etc. Post your thoughts in the comments below.