Finish Lines

What happens when we push past boundaries?

In the mid-nineties, I had my first profound experience with finish lines. Days prior to running my first New York City Marathon, during a final training run around the 6.2-mile loop in Central Park, I crossed the Marathon’s already-set-up finish line and something within me shifted. If you can move past that finish line, you will keep going through many more was the sentiment that resonated within me.  

Regardless of my insecurities and fear as to whether I could run 26.2 come race day, I trusted in my training, and was committed to giving it my all. So, when I did cross the finish line days later on that temperate Sunday in November, my first marathon completed, I was exuberant, but tentative. I wasn’t sure if my accomplishment was a one-time wonder, or something I would be able to replicate down the road, which meant I was going to have to sign up for another race in short order to learn the answer.

Beyond boundaries

The thing about finish lines is that while they signify completion in some sense, they also beg the question what’s next? After I completed a few marathons, I began to wonder what was possible if I dreamed bigger. For one thing, finish lines tend to be man-made. They insist on an ending, and in life, there are no real endings. We keep going and pushing, and in that pushing, we learn about ourselves, and the stories we tell ourselves. We learn about our relationship with pain and fear, and what it takes for us to move beyond our limits. We learn about risk, too. Because in order to go further in life, you have to be willing to take risks.

 One of the reasons I got into running ultramarathons (any distance beyond the marathon distance of 26.2), was because after running marathons, I realized there was no turn off switch. It wasn’t as if my body suddenly shut down. The finish line didn’t require me to be carried away. There was more in my tank.

 I wondered how far past the marathon finish line I could go, and so many years later, when family members succumbed to illnesses, I felt the need to move beyond the boundaries I was living within. My first venture was a 50-mile running race along the Ice Age Trail in Wisconsin. Completing my first ultramarathon taught me that when you finish something meaningful, you are still left with yourself and all the loose ends of your life. There is a bit of hoopla for having arrived, until hours later, or the next day, when you are back with yourself. The only difference is that once you achieve a feat beyond your wildest dreams, somewhere inside you know that you’re capable of more than you think, even if the knowledge is short lived or you don’t always believe it.

 That first 50-mile endeavor taught me about the realm of possibility and that when you move past your limits, you begin to learn about yourself. It’s easy to establish limitations – I cannot do this; I don’t do that. But what if you try and discover you can? What if you discover there is more than living within the boundaries you or society created around you?

 Finish lines have taught me about the drive and commitment it takes to push forward, and that no matter how many others may wish me well and root me on, I am the only one who can overcome the doubt and fear within me and propel myself forward. Over time, finish lines have taught me about the granite within me, strong and sturdy, that materializes when I am willing to go the distance mentally, emotionally, and physically.

 Keeping going

The trick to moving past boundaries is straight forward: keep going. Often that requires a plan, execution, trusting the process, believing in oneself, and when game day arrives, mental fortitude. It also helps to acknowledge that life is about what happens along the way, not about reaching a goal. Over time, I have continued to push the boundaries, which has resulted in giving me more to aspire to. I have learned first-hand about the hard work of staying with it, whether it’s a writing project, a work issue, or an ultramarathon. Perseverance makes it sound too dainty. Staying with it is about the tedious, sometimes dreaded, often illuminating blood, sweat, and tears it takes to move towards completing something meaningful in your life.

Staying with it has to find a way to overcome the screw-it, I’m done attitude which often competes with doggedness. Staying with it keeps you honest and reminds you that it’s your duty to do your work, whatever your work is. It reminds you that you cannot cheat at your calling, or it will haunt you. We all know deep inside what we are supposed to attempt in our lives. When we don’t try, we feel small; when we try, no matter the outcome, there’s the possibility of growing into ourselves. The sun, moon, and stars have to align sometimes for one to keep going, keep believing, keep trusting, move forward. It is always so easy to stop. No matter how many times I revisit that sentiment, each time it reverberates deeper. It’s so easy to stop, so when we keep going, we are saying yes to ourselves, to our undertaking, and to possibility.

The final stretch

In races, I pause a mile or two before I reach the finish line to gather myself, reflect on the journey, ask myself what it was about for me, examine how I grew, how I regressed, and what I seek moving forward. Because once I cross that finish line, I know I will be in the next chapter of my life. In those moments of arriving, I honor the effort, the grit, the patience it took me to achieve this moment in my life. Often, if I am alone at a 100-mile race, before I cross the finish line, I cry a little cry and thank the universe for enabling me to make it this far, and with that strength, courage, and trust, I push through to the end, so incredibly grateful for the journey, for the partnership of my body and mind, and for the opportunity, if only for a flash, to glimpse what I’m made up of.

What I have learned from finish lines hundreds of races later and a medley of life and career shifts beyond is that there is no real end; there’s just the completion of chapters, and the courage to embark on the next one.