My Most Recent Failures
I struggle sometimes to make sense of chapters in my life. When they start and when they end. When one overlaps with another.
I suppose it’s a blessing to be active, to enjoy a family that enjoys my time and attention in return, to have many interests and even more friends, but, as an analyst, making sense of things matters greatly to me. Having everything in its rightful place settles me. But the edges of life are rarely clean or defined or convenient, and so some of my organizational cubby holes are overstuffed while others remain vacant, dusty, waiting for a scrap of life experience to give them relevance. The lack of order bothers me, though just a little.
This latest chapter of my life story starts, more or less, with the Covid pandemic. I call it my Failure Chapter.
I had just opened a a franchised shared-workspace business after a long corporate career spent analyzing business models. My optimism at this much smaller and simpler endeavor knew no bounds. Neither did my hubris. I was a highly-capable business executive; the only question I entertained was how quickly I could make this business a success.
My business was on track with my business-plan projections for the first ten months of its existence. I really like things that unfold according to plan, because it shows how smart I am. But then March 2020 upended our entire world, and apparently I’m not quite so smart after all. My business choice couldn’t have been worse: shared workspace during a time of a highly-contagious respiratory illness that would kill millions and millions of people.
And so my business failure was secured.
My business-related stresses didn’t cause my divorce, but they did highlight that our marriage wasn’t a strong one. We were ill-suited for each other, though it took a few years to recognize that. And by then we had children — two amazing daughters who continue to delight us — and it was easier to pretend everything was fine enough. And, generally speaking, it was.
There were no bad guys in our divorce. No bad behavior. No one’s fault. We just don’t fit together well. Dawn needs a lot of engagement, while I’m very independent. I need to know with certainty what’s going to happen, and Dawn rolls through life spontaneously. So we let distance come between us. And when my business began its death spiral — which is still spinning, by the way — I didn’t feel like I had the support I needed in our marriage. Which only meant that I’d caught up to Dawn, who had felt that way for quite some time.
So we talked, honestly but kindly — which was a bit of a departure from the way we often communicated in the last years of our marriage, when we hurt each other regularly, though not on purpose — and we decided to give each other the opportunity to find a better partner. Our divorce proceeded amicably for the most part, and we ultimately made it through with few additional scars and an appreciation for what the other person was rather than what we were not.
But, still, the marriage failed.
I wish I could say I used running as the coping mechanism for the kind of stress that failure generates. And I did work out some. But Covid also robbed me of the events that give my training focus and motivate me to work out. So my workouts have been sporadic for the past two to three years, enough to keep my weight down and give me the illusion of being fit, but all they’ve really done is make it possible to me to lie to myself. That I wasn’t too far from my peak. That I could gen up my fitness quickly for running events. That my speed and endurance were just a few weeks from roaring back.
I’m generally not a slacker. When I’m at my best I commit my time and attention and energy to the goals I set. And while I’ve set fitness as a goal each and every year, I’ve just given it lip service and short shrift most recently. So what’s the deal?
I’ve just had a lot on my plate. Business failure. Divorce. The logistics of separating a household. Decisions about what comes next, and then planning and executing those plans. It all takes time and attention and energy.
So does qualifying for the Boston Marathon. But I’ve had to deal with the immediate demands of the massive changes in my life, which has left, well, not much for marathon training. And while I’m largely through the divorce and the life changes that it imposed, I have new demands that are sucking resources that I could be using for the Ventura Marathon.
But before I go there, I do have one last thought about my rather significant failures and how they relate to my quest for Boston.
I’m really not a pessimist, but I do often wonder about my worth. Failing at a marriage and failing at a business aren’t typically esteem builders. So perhaps my desire to emulate my man Boog and re-qualify for the Boston Marathon is something I seek because I doubt my abilities in other areas. But I know I can qualify for Boston because I’ve done it already. Twice in fact.
I’m not a psychologist, so I can’t really say what my complete motivation profile looks like. But I do want to find the path back to Boston. It’s a big challenge albeit a familiar one, and I know how powerful accomplishing hard goals can feel. I also know how disappointing failures can feel.
As always, time will tell on which side of the Accomplishment Ledger this effort will fall.
