I once had this running coach who would always tell me, “That was a great training run.”
He said it after my absolute worst runs; the ones I was certain I had failed miserably at. Even when it felt – and looked – the exact opposite of great, he still called it great.
I once told him how the race course description for the 5k I had just done said “mostly flat” and so I went out really hard, way too hard, until I met “quadzilla” – that’s what one runner called the hill we were on. She was right and then some; it was an endless monster and ruined my legs.
Afterwards I tried so hard to hold my ‘on par for a PB’ pace, but I couldn’t. I tanked pretty hard and there was no way I could get my pace back. I had hit the proverbial wall.
Graham was at the finish line thinking he must have missed me cross because he knew I was expected to be fast.
But I was still out on the course trying to recover from lead legs and lactic acid lungs.
The only PB I got was for 2.5k (at the halfway mark I had used up all my matches). I finished the 5k two minutes slower than my usual pace – which in my books was awful, especially when I was set to place.
I did way worse then planned and of course, as I shared it with him, classic coach said, “Sounds like a great training run.”
Another time I was running a marathon and, tempted by hunger and fatigue at the 35k mark, veered away from my nutrition game plan and grabbed the delicious looking oranges and chips from the race stand at the side of the road. Two kilometres later, stomach cramps set in and I was fighting hard to keep moving. I finished the run but it wasn’t pretty and once again he said, “Sounds like a great training run.”
Today, as I was running sprints and gasping for air, I found myself really struggling mentally to keep going but was reminded of his words and though I thought they were a bit strange back then, I understood them entirely now…
All of the runs that I had viewed as flops or failures were lessons. The quadzilla run taught me to pace myself better, how to hold on after emptying my tank and to be wise about course descriptions.
I learned.
The marathon taught me the importance of sticking to the nutrition plan.
I really learned.
Today’s run taught me that fighting through that mental battle feels so good at the end. I’ve learned so much. Every run I thought I had failed at, was a run I learned the most from.
My coach had a skill I had not yet acquired back then; it was the skill to see failure for what it really is – something to learn from, a great lesson, wisdom.
As I finished my run, I thought about how much I appreciated all the lessons I have learned in my running years, but most of all, I appreciated this very valuable skill passed on from an incredibly wise coach – to see failures for what they truly are, great lessons that if applied can bring you great success.
Next time you think you’ve failed at something, ask yourself a good question – what did I learn?
Maybe it wasn’t a failure at all. Maybe it was actually a great training run in disguise.
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This is a monthly opinion piece; Alison Brown is a Walkerton native now living in Listowel, where she is a local business owner, mother and published author.
