Never Betray Yourself

The wisdom of doing hard things.

Oct 17, 2024

You can do hard things.

Glennon Doyle

In November 2012, I was 13 miles from proving I could do something extraordinary.

I had swam 2.4 miles in the Gulf of Mexico, biked 112 miles in sweltering heat, and ran half of a 26.2-mile marathon. This was Ironman Florida.

So very close…

My wife and my best friends were there to support me. They even designed custom T-shirts with “Endurance” stenciled on the front and “Team John” on the back.

Approaching the 13.1-mile mark, the temperature dropped, and I began to shiver. I had anticipated this and placed a towel and a long-sleeved shirt in my “Special Needs” bag at the turnaround.

At around mile 10, a violent argument erupted in my head between two voices.

The battle.

One voice kept telling me to keep moving, not to quit, that my suffering was not life-threatening, only uncomfortable.

“Pain is temporary, regret is permanent,” the voice told me repeatedly.
“Make this happen, John!” it roared.
“You’ve trained for five years for this moment - get it done!”
“DO NOT QUIT!”

The other voice, the cunning voice of fear, appeared slowly over the past several miles as the sun went down over the horizon. Then, like a mighty crescendo in a Beethoven symphony, it bellowed…

“You’ve done enough! You have completed 127 miles and proven to yourself that you are stronger than you imagined. It’s cold and will only get colder - stop now, and you can be in a hot shower in ten minutes.”

That voice never used the word “quit.” Hearing the word “quit” would have just pissed me off and motivated me to keep grinding.

The tug-of-war persisted for several hours, and, in the end, I quit. I’ve regretted that decision ever since. Regret sucks.

I betrayed myself.

Later, I sat down in the shower in my hotel room and cried.

Lessons in emotional archaeology.

Lesson 1: Our inner saboteur is very clever - it knows our weaknesses and vulnerabilities. Get to know your inner demons - like vampires, they wither in the light of day.

Lesson 2: Our most cherished memories often result from stepping beyond the limits of our comfort zones. Playing it safe is not the path to a fulfilling life, only disappointment. This lesson only applies to situations involving your heart and soul.

Lesson 3: Take time to dig deeply through the layers of your emotional world. You can’t confront and control what you cannot see. I have used therapy for this purpose.

What went wrong?

Several months after dropping out of the race, I went for a long, slow run and thought about the voice of resignation that had pulverized my dream. The following questions came up…

What purpose did it serve?
What was that voice afraid of?
What or who was it protecting?

If I was going to return to Ironman Florida and take care of unfinished business, I needed to know the answers to those questions.

Three years later, I returned to Ironman Florida, having answered the questions in the intervening years.

I crossed the finish line.

Here are the answers to my questions…

Why did that dark voice appear?

It appeared because it (that part of me that doesn’t want to be seen as powerful) felt threatened. What would people think of me once I crossed the finish line? Would they be jealous? Would they ignore me?

The payoff for quitting is that you don’t have to confront painful challenges in the future. Wimping out, it turns out, has perks. You can sit back on your comfy recliner or sofa and pretend that life is peachy.

Getting up off the couch and doing hard things is no fun. Nobody is clapping for you when you run in the dark in the rain on a gloomy Monday morning, training for a 140.6-mile triathlon. But the more I did that, the more resilient, confident, and genuinely powerful I became.

What is it in your life that you avoid doing because it’s uncomfortable or unpleasant? What price do you pay for not doing them?

Once I crossed that finish line, there was no turning back - I couldn’t wrap myself in the reassuring blankets of inferiority and mediocrity any longer. Wimping out would no longer be an option. I would be an Ironman athlete.

Once you prove to yourself that you are stronger than you ever imagined, you will never be the same person again. You will be a better version of yourself.

What was that voice afraid of?

That voice appeared because it didn’t want to feel pain and risk failure, and that’s a problem. If you aren’t willing to stretch your comfort zone to the point of rupture, you will never know what you are truly capable of.

Strangely, that voice was afraid of seeing me get hurt. It was trying to protect me.

Who was that voice protecting?

In my case, it was that little boy within, that boy who was bullied unmercifully for years. That little boy survived by trying to become invisible. Being strong in the face of aggressive bullies could have proven catastrophic, so weakness seemed the smarter bet.

I learned to cower in the face of fear.

Although we have never met, I wager that there are times in your life when you do the same. There are people you will not stand up to and opinions you will not offer. There are things you yearn to experience that seem out of reach.

Don’t follow my example and cower in fear.

Don’t overthink things. It’s like standing on the edge of a pier and debating whether you should jump into the cold water. The longer you think about it, the less likely you are to swim in that magnificent lake. It’s only cold for a minute or two.