Golden Lining

age calculator

Sometimes in the blink of an eye, what we meant to say or do, is already done and the outcome at first glance is unfortunate, and at second, victorious. Let me explain with a very recent, personal example.

On October 5th, 2014, in 37 breezy degrees, downtown Minneapolis, I began the Twin Cities Marathon, teeth chattering and body shaking from the bitter cold. The race was the culmination of a 6 month goal to achieve my best time ever, my personal record (PR) in a road marathon. At 43 years old, I was racing against my 24 year old self, who ran 3:04:37 in Chicago in 1995 and was determined to beat her. 6 months of training seemed adequate to me, as I was going to get a great coach (!), despite never having had a running coach, period. After all, I was now in the business of radical change, hypnotherapy, and still absolutely believe in the power of the mind.


Knowing that the ideal plan of what we’d like to achieve is set in motion by our minds, whether it’s a business objective or personal goal, creating an end vision will enable us to further design the path. No one would get very far in any sort of race or business by focusing only on the starting line. So, I dreamed of seeing myself happy, exhilarated and exhausted too, crossing the finish line at 2:57:54.


Enter into the story, the word, ‘maybe’—talvez, forse,vielleicht, peut-etre, labda…


Maybe: meaning ‘it may come about.’ Maybe can be theoretical, analytical, logistical, mathematical, and evanescent; likewise, it can be mystical, lyrical, magical, ethereal, eternal and, lastly–doubtful.


I trained like a madwoman, for 6 months, diligently, militantly following my coach’s orders. My legs felt like concrete on most days. Sometimes I wondered if I was getting slower and slower. I cried twice—once during one workout, feeling defeated and near the end of another, out of exhaustion and frustration. I literally crawled into the South Platte River at the end of a long, blazing hot tempo run in July, unconcerned with whether my body would float downstream. My training felt like I was doing a job that I was not suited for. But it was a fresh experience. Most of the time I felt like my legs were their own person, separate. I could look down at them spinning around and around and imagine them a wheel and not part of me. I congratulated them on their performances and shook my head at them in disappointment. I practiced my vision of crossing the finish line in 2:57:54, happy, exhilarated and a bit exhausted, too. And still, the doubt came and went, coloring my dream with all sorts of catastrophes—heavy rain, broken foot, passing out before the finish, upset stomach, forgotten shoes…


The truth is, I don’t know if I ever believed I was capable of breaking 3 hours in the marathon. I was so friendly with the doubting part of myself that I had more resolve to achieving my goal but not the liquid gold of belief beneath it. I wanted the result with all my heart but did not believe I was capable. I was curious to see what could happen but felt like more of an imposter, trying to capture a great amateur Master’s result.


By marathon mile 12, my frozen toes and achy legs from a cold that week just seemed to call it quits. I stopped looking at my Garmin, and called it a day, hoping just to finish the race. I started high-fiving kids along the course and read the fans’ signs for entertainment. But in the end, my finish time provided me with a new feeling and new reality—I was capable, I was doing it, for real. My ‘bad’ race time resulted in 3:11:58, which by Runners World’s Age Graded calculator puts me at 2:57:13. Golden!


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