Running the Boston marathon had been a goal of mine for a long time. As a lifelong Red Sox fan and american history buff, the city of Boston has always been intriguing and iconic. After completing Ironman Wisconsin back in 2012, setting my sights on qualifying and running Boston seemed logical and natural. That's not say I thought it would be easy. I knew it would be a battle and something that I'd really have to dedicate myself to to achieve. In my mind I thought that anyone could train for and complete a full Ironman because you don't have to qualify to do an Ironman. In other words, there were no time goals I needed to hit. Sign up, train hard and put one foot in front of the other until you make it to the finish line. And you're an Ironman. To be clear, I'm not throwing shade at the Ironman races or people who compete in them. I have so much respect for triathletes and anyone who signs up for the ultimate endurance challenge that is the Ironman. Even since 2012 when I raced, I still mark Ironman Wisconsin on my calendar every year so that I can watch the swim start and feel the excitement. That moment still gives my chills. To cheer on the athletes as they wind their way through Madison. And of course, heading down to the finish chute late at night to celebrate the athletes. It's a community I feel honored and humbled to be a part of. But the athletes that run Boston have to qualify to get there, and by marathon standards, are some of the best and most accomplished runners in the world. The Ironman is a difficult for sure, but to me, Boston was a different animal.
To be honest, I thought qualifying for Boston was going to be an easier goal for me to accomplish than it actually turned out to be. I originally set it as my 5 year goal post Ironman, and in the end, it took me 10. Having only run 2 marathons (with mediocre success) before setting my sights on Boston, I knew it would be an uphill battle but one that I could quickly overcome. Maybe I still had too much confidence and swagger coming out of my Ironman experience. Maybe it was just youthful ignorance. But I put in the work anyway. 12 marathons in 8 years to be exact, in addition to countless half marathons and trail races. I would say it after each 26.2 race I did: "marathons are hard." And after each one I completed, I would learn something and take the lesson with me when I started training for the next one. You learn slowly about how to train and what workouts produce the most success. You learn slowly about fueling and pacing during races. You learn slowly that the little things, such as warmups and cool downs and getting enough sleep at night can make a big difference in how you feel when you reach the start line.
As the races started to pile up and I started inching closer to 40 years old, I could feel myself starting to slow down. In the first couple of years I spent training for Boston, I would go into every race needing to PR, and I would do almost anything (even if it meant crawling to the finish line) to get that PR. I put it all on the line when I raced. It was a pressure I put on myself. But slowly and slowly, over the final couple of years I spent training and trying to qualify, I could feel my body and mind getting tired. Tired of the grind. Tired of the routine. Tired of inching closer and closer to that qualifying time but not quite making the cut. Even though my dedication to achieving the goal never wavered, in my head I knew that I was getting older and more tired, and that (possibly) my window to achieve this goal could be potentially closing.
When the day came and I finally had a qualifying time accepted, of course I was excited. It was the accumulation of years and years of hard work. But the physical and mental energy it took to get me to that point took it's toll, and I had nothing left. The idea of training for another marathon (even if it was Boston and a dream come true) did not appeal to me, because again, I was exhausted. Many people asked me in the months leading up to the race if I was going to try to "race" Boston in an attempt for a PR. That just wasn't going to happen. I was very content and beyond happy to treat Boston as a victory lap. A run where I didn't worry about a time or a pace. Just a marathon where I took in all the sights, talked to as many people as I could, and simply enjoy the fruits of my labor. (check out my blog post about Boston here) Long story short, it was worth what it took for me to get there.
Since running Boston in April, I've intentionally pulled back from racing or any serious training. I wanted to take the rest of the year "off" and run casually with friends and my kids. But as fall is slowly turning into winter, it's time for me to start thinking about next year and setting some goals for myself. (I know this post was supposed to be about setting goals, so I apologize for my ramblings and round about way of getting to the point). When I'm thinking about setting goals for myself, I ask my inner self some important questions. What do I want my year to look like? What would I like to accomplish? What kind of time do I have to dedicate to this goal? Or maybe more importantly...what do I have the energy and drive for? But if I strip it all down, when I'm setting goals, it comes down to this: what can I do, or what goal can I set, that will force me to raise my bar as a person. What will make me stronger? A better dad. A better husband. To me, setting goals isn't about keeping the status quo. It's about leveling up. It's about improving. It's about reminding myself that I'm unstoppable. Capable of anything. It's about a sense of focus. A focus on becoming MY best me. What do the 2023 goals look like? I'm not sure yet, but I think I'll be ready to grind again.
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