Trevor asked me to drive to the high school together and time him running 1 mile. He’s only done that once before and has probably run less than 50 miles in his life. 5 minutes was his goal.
Yep, I think I can do it. I ran 5:20 last year after running 1 day. I’ve run 11 days this year, so I should make it right?
Just like that he’d written his finish. Set the goal, reviewed his prep, checked his shoes and bathing suit, picked the music, chosen the location and time. Now it was time to perform.
I get it.
I never plan on winning or PRing a race I don’t care about. Once or twice a year, I’ll target something. Write that finish in my mind, and go for it. Get the equipment ready, try and shed some lbs, monitor my sleep, huddle with my coach (I can only handle about 6 weeks of structure which drives her nuts – there’s a lesson on loyalty), you know the drill…
but, are you writing your finish?
Can you see it? Is it coming to life as the timeline shortens?
All kinds of things will pop up on the way: work will get busy, your family will need more of you, your bike will need fixing, your nutrition will fail on training rides, and so on. Write how you make it all work into your finish now.
We had worked out a signal for each lap: thumb down, faster than required; thumb up, too slow.
3, 2, 1, GO!
Thumb down, 1:05. Thumb down, 2:28. Thumb up, 3:55.
He collapsed on the synthetic field, his back covered with tiny crushed rubber dots. Phone laid still. Air pods popped out. Panting. I sat on the bench and waited. Man I love this kid, even if he’s 25 he’s my kid… who takes after his mother athletically.
Let’s walk, he says.
My flip flops clop. I listen as he writes a new finish.
Dad, once I’m through busy season and have passed my CPA exams and can rest and run, you pace me on your bike. I’m going to crush 5 minutes.