In the palm of my hand

Sometimes it's painful. Lessons from the past. Triggered by present activities.

I was reminded this morning that the actions of others should not impact mine. Unless of course they are exemplary, super-human or otherwise inspiring. 

When training or racing it is about competition. You versus me. Us versus them. Or in training me versus me. If, in a competitive situation, you quit, does that give me permission to do likewise? If I see you having 'mental toughness issues' does that give me impetus to back off? If it's detrimental, 'everybody is doing it', is not a valid response. Ask Lance.

I want your best. I want to taste the effort necessary to over-achieve. I want all-out. If you quit in the heat of battle, you have diminished my victory. We have even come up with some politically correct ways to ease this. Mercy rules, put in the second-string, don't run up the score, TKO, tap-out. 

When we continually witness others giving up it can make that decision in us a little, or sometimes a lot, easier. Here was my example from this morning. 

It was Ironman Canada 2005. I went in with solid fitness and a good race plan. Coming off my fourth place finish the prior year, I should have hit top three (and qualified for Kona). That was (and remains) the goal.

After the usual so-so swim, I unluckily flatted three times in the first 56 miles. Some local jerk(s) had strewn the course with thumbtacks and I found three of them. Cost me almost 30 minutes in wrench time. Deciding to fight on, I SERIOUSLY HAMMERED the final 56 turning my right foot into a hot skewered slab of throbbing flesh in the process. The self diagnosis was a stress fracture and there was NO WAY I was going to run a marathon as a mono pod. In the T2 tent Tim Horton's were free and plentiful. Thinking my day to be over I had one. And another. 

Sitting on a folding chair with a doughnut and cup of steaming coffee, a training buddy was rushing towards his run gear and pulled up alongside. He asked somewhat incredulously, "What the fuck are you doing?"

I told the tale as concisely as I could knowing that he was in a hurry. Transitions are like that. He said. "Come on, give it a try"

I can't.

Yes you can, come on.

I have a stress fracture, no go.

Try, just one mile, it might loosen up.

I just rammed five THs, it's over.

COME ON.

We are slogging it out Lakeshore Drive. My foot, now inside a new, cushioned Mizuno Wave Runner, kinda feels OK. If not for the fact that my GI is now uproariously laughing at the prospectors of digesting all that dough and sugar, it would have been manageable. 

We get to mile seven. It hurts, and I look at my watch and do some calcs, all leading to the conclusion that even if I run a PR, it will fall well short of needed time to qualify. 

And who do I see across the street, at that very moment, walking back towards town, head down and limping?

My coach.

I hollered, how are ya?

Not good, calling it a day. Knee. 

That was good enough for me. if my coach can do it so can I.

I stopped running, crossed the street and walked back to town with Simon. 

His decision had directly influenced mine. 

That was seven years ago, 2,555 days. 

I have spent 2,555 nights since regretting that decision. Living the nightmare, seeking redemption. I quit. Took a DNF. It will say so in the results FOREVER. 

Do not let the actions of others influence your decisions. 

Unless they make better decisions than you. 

Then by all means.