The Finish Line Deferred

We often measure life’s moments and accomplishments through finish lines crossed.

The diploma received.

The wedding – a culminating event for courtship.

The interview process that yields a new position.

The mortgage signed.

The positive pregnancy test.

The athletic race finished.

It was 4:00 in the morning in late November 2019 and the first of three ferocious thunderstorms I’d face snapped, cracked, and poured overhead. I’d set out on my 5 hour bike ride at 3:00 AM – doing countless laps in the pre-dawn hours on the one road in Singapore with a bike lane. It was my last big ride before my Ironman competition and it had to be done before a morning meeting in which I was hosting a senior Central Bank delegation at our offices. There’s a lot of mental and physical tenacity that goes into training for a long endurance event – be it Ironman triathlon, ultra marathons, or any other delightful activity of your choosing. Soaked, bleary eyed, and ironically (for Singapore) shivering, I could feel my resolve wearing.

Six weeks earlier I sat sheltered from a similarly relentless downpour in the rural town of Gurye, South Korea. We just received notice that our race had been cancelled because of a Typhoon scheduled to make landfall the same time we were meant to kick off the 226 Kilometer / 114.6 mile journey. I had already diligently laid out my kit, nutrition, and other essentials for each of the three legs. My mother, who traveled from the United States in support, had crafted my typical pre-race meals from scratch. I thought about the hours of training I’d put in – on the tiny red dot, in hotel gyms on work travel, often alone, regularly under the beating equator sun. I recalled the social obligations I’d put off and those I was looking forward to indulging in when finished. I tallied the investment in coaching, gear, maintenance, travel, and entry fees. I thought about all of the things that were difficult in other arenas in life, for which training and racing was an outlet.

It was a heartbreaker. When the rains cleared I went on a bike ride – physical activity is always my solace when things are tough, even then when that tough thing was … the cancelling of physical activity. I wound through the Korean countryside – past rice fields and through quiet towns with kimchi pots stacked outside homes. A flood of memories and mixed emotions accompanied me on that ride. I’d spent several years in South Korea during a formative time in my childhood and I was so grateful to return. Simply put, I really wanted to do the race. I wanted to do it as a thank you letter to my mom. I wanted to do it to prove that when I’m in control of the outcome, I’m successful.

The next day I signed up for Ironman Western Australia, a race I ultimately completed on 2 December 2019 in 5th place, missing a Kona World Championship qualification by two slots.

I’ve always found meaning in sport – it’s an essential part of life, yet poignantly also serves as a foil for so many things we encounter each day. Little did I know then that setting out for the deferred finish line wouldn’t just mean training for the next Ironman, I was training for a year of deferred dreams, for outcomes anticipated that quickly dissipated.

 If you’re like me, you likely had your own deferred finish lines this year – the new job that became victim to COVID restructuring, the wedding party, the trips, the loved ones whose touch still remains elusive.

If it’s any comfort, let sport be a teacher once again. Here’s what I took away from my deferred Ironman finish line - lessons that bore out in the valleys of 2020 and helped me climb back to the mountaintops:

1.    The only way out is through

When all feels lost and you’re clouded in despair – “I’m tired, I don’t want to keep going, I keep giving without getting anything in return“ (sound familiar?) – keep going. No roadblock or detour is insurmountable when met with human determination. Recharge, regroup, gather the support you need. You will make it out, by going through. And you'll be stronger for it.

2.    The beauty’s in the trying

I have a million things to be grateful for this year that I wouldn’t have had things gone to plan. My relationship, our adopted puppy, a renewed sense of purpose, a healed body, and more. My emotions were riddled with disappointment when certain goals didn’t materialize, but the hindsight of gratitude within 2020 has been well … 20/20. 

3.    It wasn’t the right finish line to cross

Setting goals and working tirelessly to achieve them is perhaps the most consistent feature of my life. This ultimately makes unsuccessful “races” or vanished finish lines that much more difficult. But I’ve taken comfort in that lesson from late 2019 – it wasn’t the right finish line to cross.

There was beauty in being in Korea during the cancelled event – for me, it was visiting my childhood home again. But, if you find yourself in a downpour – literal or metaphorical – know that there are better races out there and finish lines meant for you. I wouldn’t have dreamt to have a race like I did in Busselton, Australia nor would I have envisioned where I am in this moment, right now – but I’m ever more proud because of the journey it took to get here.

We’ll get there, together. Keep going.