The Goal I Achieved…But Shouldn’t Have

“I think I can, I think I can, I think I can…”

Today’s inspiration comes from one of my absolute favorite books as a child, The Little Engine That Could. Though others did not see what he was capable of, he knew deep down who he could be, and what he could do. Just thinking of his struggles now brings me right back to the warm fuzzy feelings I had reading this as a kid.

Unfortunately, this post has no warm fuzzy feelings. While it’s fun to write about goals I have enjoyed, it’s also important to reflect on the ones I have…well…loathed.

But before I dive in, for a change of pace let’s start with some thought experiments:

• What keeps you going, especially when things get tough?
• What keeps those you admire going? 
• How do you know that it will be worth it in the end?

Let’s talk about the half marathon I ran in May 2015. At first glance I did everything right; I had a clear deadline, a thorough game plan in place to help prepare me physically, and I had plenty of encouragement from my husband and my coworker Keely, who were running the race with me.

WARNING: If you just signed up for a half marathon, I am sure you will rock it! The following story is just one person’s experience :).

Anyhoo, from January to May, I pressed on. I put miles on my legs at least 4-6 times per week. I checked in with my friend (who was also doing this for the first time) to share my struggles. My husband runs half and full marathons all the time – any advice I needed, I had in my own home.

Finally the day of the race arrived. At the start of the race I finally felt the adrenaline I had been waiting for; the blast of the gun is truly exciting. It gets your heart racing before your feet even begin to move. “This was worth it!”, I thought to myself.

As the course took me through a nearby neighborhood I was all verklempt by the families in their driveways holding signs, sitting in lawn chairs, all cheering us on. They didn’t know our names, but they shouted the most amazing words of encouragement. A tear actually rolled down my cheek.

It was awesome…

…for about ¼ of a mile.

That means for just under 13 miles, I struggled. My thoughts were all over the place…I started comparing this experience to medieval torture. “What in the world ever motivated me to do this?”, I asked myself. With each step my thoughts become darker and darker. My brain was internally shouting obscenities as people passing by me…everything started to make me mad. 

The course looped back around the same way it started. I found myself back in the same neighborhood. The same families were on their lawn chairs, and to their credit, hours later they exhibited just as much spirit as they did in the beginning of the race.

And for some reason, that really pissed me off.

Mind you, I am not normally this negative of a person. But the thoughts going through my head were, let’s say, less than normal. To be perfectly honest, they are not family friendly enough for this blog.

But then, I saw it. The finish line. I pushed with all my might, giving everything I had left in me to get over that line. I saw my friends and husband cheering for me. I felt the wind in my hair. It felt like I was 16 again, playing soccer and sprinting down the field on a breakaway.

And what did I feel when I finally made it across that line?

Exhaustion.

Pain.

Regret.

And maybe some very…very mild joy.

The following Monday at work I was reliving the experience with my friend who also ran that day. I described to her how much of a relief it was to see the finish line and that I was surprised how much energy I had left in me to get across it. I was feeling fairly confident in my story…until this conversation happened:

Keely: “Oh yeah! I haven’t shown you the video of you crossing the finish line yet!”

Liz: “The what? Please tell me you did not just say there is a video.”

*Keely pulls her phone out and begins searching*

Liz: “Oh no…….no……”

Keely: “Found it!”

Liz: Stop…just…please….no….

*Video plays for all to see*

Sure enough, what I thought felt like sprinting was actually me jogging slower than a leisurely walking pace. I think there were actually people in the background of the video walking faster than me. But what stuck out the most was that the look on my face was that of absolute misery.

I’d consider it just about the worst cherry on top of the worst sundae EVER.

In the weeks following the race I thought, “well, I guess it’s nice that I can cross that off my list now”. But the hard truth is, it was never really on my list to begin with. And it took me a couple of years to admit to myself:

I never should have set that goal in the first place, because I wasn’t motivated to complete it.

For a goal to be worth the effort, it must be connected to something bigger, or deeper, such as one’s innermost values. How else would we enjoy, or at the very least, endure the process? From my experience, crossing something off feels pretty good, but that alone doesn’t make it worth the effort.

If you have never taken the time to consider what your values are, and therefore what guides your decisions and motivations, doing a value card sort or asking yourself powerful coaching questions (post on this topic coming soon!) can be good places to start. Activities like this can be challenging, so set aside plenty of time, and get ready to be honest with yourself and prepare to make some difficult decisions.

For me, if a goal will allow me to focus on my family, personal growth, curiosity and learning, or teaching others, there’s a decent chance I am on the right track. If not, I will be the Little Engine That Could, But Didn’t Want To. Not as catchy.

If you think all of this is a little too mushy for your taste, that’s ok! For some, external rewards may be enough to expend time, energy, and effort on a goal. But personally, I have made the decision that when choosing my goals, I will consider my values and motivation first, and the end result second.

So now, I will continue onward and upward, chugging along at my current goals, which should make me a much happier (and nicer) person.