“Never have a lack of goals.” It’s a quote I always remind myself of when it comes to both running and life.
Every day, I write a list of things to do—a low-hanging set of goals to try and achieve each day, or else they rollover to the next. This list is ever-evolving, with big lofty tasks and smaller, low-hanging fruit. Putting pen to paper and ticking it off is satisfying. It feels good, and it’s meaningful. Even if the joy of taking out the compost means that I don’t have to see the bin overflowing, having that reward and ticking it of my list means I feel it twice, and it sure is nice.
Then, there lies a goal within a goal. Showing up for training, stepping out the door and completing the prescribed run each day is a goal—one that requires discipline, consistency and mental fortitude. Within the act of running, you can have more goals like practicing your fueling, completing some consistent intervals or trying to run up a hill that has eluded you for months. You won’t always tick every box, but just like the to-do list, you must try again tomorrow, the next day and the next.
I love that about running. I love how a hard day highlights the hard-hitting lessons, and the good days give the content feeling of box-ticking. We are on a never-ending, non-linear journey that will test our ability to make goals within goals within goals. During races, when things feel like they are unravelling too fast for me to see any success, I set small goals like running to the next tree, eating something before the next checkpoint or simply the goal of leaving an aid station and not being sucked in by the comfort of a chair and kind company.
There is no goal too small, no dream too big, no idea too daring and no tick less worthy on a to-do list.
In 2022, I went into the year with one goal: Western States. I had no process goals or in-race goals other than finishing that race. I had no other race lined up. I felt it was disrespectful to have anything else on the cards—all in on one event, squeeze it all out, play all my cards, put all my eggs in one basket—whatever you want to call it. I had shutters on and a narrow view of that track in Auburn that marks the finish line of this grueling and historic 100-mile event. This vision was the only place I would accomplish my goal.
I ended up having my first DNF (did not finish) from falling hard on the ground and hitting my head on a rock.
There was no goal to DNF or get a concussion, and I never got to that track. I failed—I achieved no goal, not even to finish, which people told me was setting the bar too low, but here I was not even able to do that.
The results hit hard. I was left with a pounding headache not only from the fall but from the deep and suffocating feeling of, “Well, now what?”
To have goals is to have belief. I want to try to shoot for the moon but be okay with landing in the stars. I saw stars that day, alright, but not the type I was dreaming and visualizing for the months leading up to this one start line. Goals should be set from A through C with the option to extend to Z if needed. Goals, like grains of sand, add up and are pivotal to the evolution of your journey. Write down big, audacious goals and beneath them, write down goals that will set you up with benchmarks along the way. Your grainy goals will keep you motivated, keep you hungry, keep you honest and keep you accountable. Don’t tell anyone, but sometimes I do something and then add it tomy list just so I can tick it off…that might be lame, but it still matters to me.