Fear of Failure

Ask yourself this one ever important question...

On Saturday morning Cesia mounted a 30-ft ladder to reach the top of a jumpy-castle slide. Slipping and struggling, it took her nearly 30 minutes to ascend all the way up, but she did it. Then she did it again another five times. This morning she rode her tricycle around in circles on our back patio as fast as her little legs could take her. Taking the turns a tad too tightly, she tipped over three times, fell on her side, got right back up and peeled out for another lap.

Last week Isaac crawled on all fours over to our locked baby gate, reached his little arms up as high as he could and muscled himself up to a stand. He turned around, looked at me as proud as could be, seemingly saying, "I did it. Look at me, Mama, I did it!"

Adara excitedly rushed over to cheer on baby brother.

Last weekend at the Zoo, Adara did the monkey bars by herself for the first time. She had been talking about it and finally did it. Alan stood under her, arms ready for support in case she needed it, but she didn't. Brave and tall, she mounted the bars and jumped off safely into daddy's arms at the other side.

Watching my kids learn new skills, some big and some little, reminds me how powerful we can be when we are not afraid to fail. Isaac had never stood before. EVER. As he crawled over to that black gate he was not thinking, "What if I can't do this." He was not afraid to fail. He simply reached up and tried. Cesia had surely never climbed such a high ladder in her life. Yet she had a goal in mind: Reaching the top of that slide so that she could experience the pure thrill of plummeting down the other side. Adara had never done monkey bars before, but she decided she was ready and she did it. They were not afraid of failing or falling. And when they do fall, they get right back up and do it again and again and again.

As a parent, I try my best to encourage my children to seek adventure, try new challenges, be daring. They don't know what it means to fail nor should they. They do know how it feels to climb high, run fast, fall hard on their knees, skin their elbows and do it all again. I hold my tongue (as much as possible) when I spot them dangling from the fireman's pole at the park, half-way up yet still in control. That is how kids learn. They learn best by making mistakes, by slipping and saving themselves, by playing. Nearly everyday a new article is published in the New York Times or Huffington Post or various other news source on the importance of play. But it is not just kids. We all learn from play and we have a lot to learn from our kids.

When kids run, they move with abandon. They run wild and free, without the slightest thought of how far or fast they are going or will go. They just run, with smiles on their faces and joy in their hearts. Our ancient ancestors and the Tarahumara Indians in Mexico still run this way. Running is a means of survival and livelihood. They run far and fast, covering many miles every day. It is my dream to be able to run this way.

This morning, I ran free. On the agenda was mile repeats. 3 x 1 mile at 7:15/mile pace. Mile repeats terrify me. They were the cornerstone of my training back in HS and college. They freaked me out and left a bitter taste. Intervals of shorter lengths were no problem as they were just that - short. Longer distances weren't so bad either because you could go slower. But running three separate miles near the speed of your single mile PR is downright painful. Back then I psyched myself out every single time, long before the actual workout started. I was afraid to fail. I had this "goal-time" either in my head or written on paper by my coach. This number stared me down like the biggest, baddest bully and I could never stand up to it. I'm not quite sure where this fear came from. Maybe it was the need to impress my coaches or keep up with my faster teammates or prove to myself that I was fast. Whatever it was got the best of me and for years I lived in fear of mile repeats.

This morning, though, I was not afraid. The notion of being afraid of a workout doesn't even get in my head anymore. When I run, I envision my girls - carefree and wild. I run with gratitude that I get to be out there, pushing a kid (or three!) and challenging myself. I went alone with just Isaac today after dropping the girls off at preschool. Once again he sat there for the entire 60-minute workout, smiling and babbling to himself. I will never know what he thinks of on these long runs alone with me, but I like to think that he is just enjoying watching the world and feeling the wind blow gently on his face. The warm-up brought us down to a flat, wide-street. I hit my watch and was off, ready to conquer some mile repeats and have fun while doing it. The first one felt shockingly smooth at 6:15. A 400m jog and on to the 2nd - slightly uphill in 6:42. I wondered if I should slow down. Really, my "pace" as determined by myself last month was supposed to be 7:15/mile. Choosing to run free and feeling strong, I decided I'd just go with it on the final mile. Not all out, but carefree and smooth. 6:12 and done.

Having us some fun.

I am only 8 months postpartum with Isaac. I have been running for maybe 4 months now and training for 1. Surely I was in better physical shape during my HS or college running days when I trained 60-70 miles/week. (Last week I hit my biggest week in years at 32 miles.) Yet, I am fairly certain I have never run three mile repeats at that speed and felt that good doing it. And I definitely never ran mile repeats with a stroller before! Yes, training with a triple kicks your butt into gear fast. The difference, though, is all in my head.

In 2003, California XC star Amber Trotter was breaking records all across the country and won the National HS Footlocker XC Championships. She chose to go to distance-running powerhouse Middlebury College. But, she would not run there. "I don't want to be anyone's race horse," she stated. I remember reading that and understanding. Running when it's not for yourself, with all that pressure, is no fun and frankly, not worth it. I am no one's race horse and I have no failure to fear. Honestly, if I had completed today's miles in 8:15/mile each, I would have been happy, because that just meant that was my pace. That's all it is. Nothing to fear out there.

Cesia, running the streets tonight.