how do you define success?

Over the weekend, I attempted to do my first Olympic distance triathlon. I say attempted, because for the first time in my life I got a DNF. This is difficult to say even as I type this 3 days later. Saturday was a very difficult day for me. I was embarrassed and upset. I was, in my mind at least, a quitter and felt like a complete & utter failure. Quitting is not something I do. Quitting is not something we encourage or teach in our society (or at least in my family) When you start something you finish it! So, how do I come to terms with getting a "did not finish" as my race result?

So, what happened on Saturday that led to a DNF? Truth be told, I felt prepared for the race. I had done an open water swim on Wednesday and had one of the best swims of my life. I'd got in a few good runs and bike rides throughout the week. The night before the race I'd gone through my visualization exercises (yes, I'm a dork!) and felt ready and prepared for anything that might be thrown at me the next day. I packed up my gear and thought I had everything under control and prepared for race day.

On Saturday, I woke up early and went through my "race morning" rituals. I ate my typical breakfast, a piece of toast with peanut butter (if you were wondering). I left with plenty of time to arrive at the race venue, get body marked and get my transition set-up. I was body marked by Shannon and her high energy and excitement made me feel great. As it got closer to the start time, I did final preparations and headed down to the lake. I got in the water for my wave start and began the swim. Half way through the swim, I made the decision that the smartest thing for me was to pull out of the race. And I've been dealing with that choice and how its affected me ever since.

I had several friends racing and my brother and 2 of his kids had come to watch, so I decided to stick around and watch them finish. While hanging near transition, I ran into a couple of people I've met through Rhielle. They were teasing me about not racing (having no idea that I had recently pulled myself out of the race). I explained to them what had happened and their nine your old daughter said to me, "That's NOT acceptable." I completely agreed with her, quitting is NOT acceptable. (As a side note, her father spent the better part of the next 2 hours trying to find me again to apologize. I explained that I completely understood his daughter's reaction--we teach our children that quitting is not acceptable. There are no hard feelings and I still consider them to be dear friends!)

The aftermath of that race made for a miserable Saturday for me. I couldn't get over the feelings of hatred I had for myself. I realize that I am far harder on myself (aren't we all our own worst critic?) than I am on others. Had anybody else told me that they had pulled themselves out of a race I would show nothing but love, care and concern. So, why could I not show myself that same mercy? Why did I have such loathing for actions that I would find acceptable in another? I even began to question everything I knew about myself. I've never quit before, so was I now a quitter? Did I just open up a door to allow myself to quit everything I started? Maybe everything I knew and believed about myself was never true and I didn't know who I was.

After many hours of self-loathing and more tears than I care to admit to, I realized that I could not allow this one incident to define me. How many mishaps (a word I prefer to "failures" when it comes to cooking) have I had in the kitchen over the years? I've had hundreds of mishaps, but have always gone back for more--it's the reason why I now make perfect cookies, amazing pies and continue to show-off my baking skills whenever the opportunity arises. So, why was a "mishap" as an athlete suddenly considered a failure? It took a lot of soul-searching for me to reach this decision: the difference between "success" and "failure" is the choice I make after I fall down. And, the choice I make is to learn from my experience, to pick myself up and try again.

I have to live with the choice on made on Saturday. And every time I am asked about my race, I will have to admit to what happened. And what happened is I didn't cross the finish line of this race on this day. However, I have decided to not allow this one incident to define me. This one choice does not make me a failure. I made a choice, a smart choice, to pull myself out of a race. But, I learned a lot about myself from that race and my decision. I cannot look at myself as a quitter or a failure because I truly haven't quit. (Besides, that word isn't in my vocabulary!) I am not, nor will I ever allow myself to be a failure. I have already picked my next Olympic distance triathlon. And this time I have every intention of crossing the finish line!