Falling Short: What I Learned From My 675 Day Running Streak

The funny thing about goals is that there's no in between, either you achieve it or you don't. You reach the top of the mountain or you're still looking upward. For me, I've recently fallen short of achieving a goal that I've been pursuing for many many days, months and years. But despite falling short, I guess I'm left wondering if I've failed.

December 27, 2022, I started a running streak. On that day, I didn't start with any intentional destination, other than to do what I have done for the last 25 years, get up and go for a run. It wasn't until March or so that I realized I hadn't yet missed a day that year, so I figured, let's try for a full year with no zero days. Fast forward to December 27, 2023 and I was still rolling. I fully intended to let myself ease up, but when I really thought about it, I didn't want the streak to end...so I pressed on. The new target - January 1, 2025.

As you can tell by the title and the fact that you're reading this prior to January 1st, I didn't make it. I fell short. I fell short due to reasons partially out of my control and to some extent requiring me to evaluate priorities - achievement vs health. So what was it that caused me to stop? Around the same time I started my running streak, I stopped drinking alcohol, and with this, I started to notice some changes in my GI. Something to know about me, when I'm sick, my wife doesn't know it. I just keep motoring on, with no acknowledgement of how I'm feeling. Why - because it doesn't matter. Life has to continue and there's nothing she can do to make me feel better, so soldier on we must. Knowing this, I'm sure you can guess that I ignored and disregarded my GI issues. This went on for about a year and half. Finally, I acquiesced that what I was experiencing was not due to my changes in alcohol consumption, but rather something potentially more serious.

At the risk of sharing too much, here's what unfolded. I consulted a GI doc and scheduled a colonoscopy. At 42, I'm still under the suggested age for routine exams. This first exam resulted in finding 7 polyps, 6 of which were excised during that procedure, the 7th would require a more advanced surgery. When I was first told about this additional surgery, I was assured that I could return to normal activities the following day. However, when the time came to schedule the surgery, I was faced with a cross-roads. I learned that the procedure would require me to take time off, knowing this I needed to decide on a November 1 or January 3rd date. Do I prioritize a running streak that was nearly two years in the making or do I prioritize my health knowing that the longer I wait the risk of cancer increases.

A normal person would read this and think there is no question what should be done, but for me, it wasn't simple. I recognize that there is more to life than running but this wasn't about the running, this was about achieving something that I could take pride in. Doing something that I've never done previously, and may likely never do again. The choice was not easy for me but I did what needed to be done. And so ended a streak of running that spanned 675 days.

This brings us back to the question I posed at the start - despite not achieving my goal, did I fail? I did not accomplish what I set out to do, but I don't think I failed. I am disappointed for sure but I'm not depressed. I'm bummed by the circumstances but happy with my decision. Strangely, I'm relieved, while looking ahead to the next thing.

This backstory and overly personal narrative is germane but its not the meat of the story. The real meat of the story is what I learned along the way and at the end of this two year journey. Upon reflection, I have come to realize that I felt like I was being weighed down, I was carrying around an albatross. This streak caused me to feel a sense of languishing. Yes, my self-induced goal brought about a feeling of languishing (as defined by Adam Grant, "the sense of stagnation and emptiness"). WHAT?!?! How could this be? How could this huge target that I've been striving to achieve cause me to feel stagnant and empty? I knew while I was deep into the streak that I was struggling, but it wasn't until it came to an end that I felt a weight lifted. So what was going on?

Everyday, I looked ahead and saw only one thing...I need to get my run in. Most days this wasn't an issue. I awoke at 5:30, drank a cup of coffee and hit the road. I'm up, I've dealt with the dog, made lunches and ran before my wife was awake. Most days, my running wasn't impactful on anyone. I had no associated guilt with my need to run, yet despite this, I was slogging through each day. All I ever thought about was the fucking streak. Daily, I'd think about getting sick, getting injured, having to travel, just being faced with a variable that would make me miss a day. It was all consuming. It weighed on me and it wasn't fun. I didn't feel like I was living. I felt like I was enslaved to this fucking streak. It made me feel empty, yet simultaneously prideful. Things that aren't easy aren't always fun, yet they are often the things worth doing. Upon reflecting on this weird journey, I definitely come away with some learnings:

1. I'm 42, not 24. Don't fuck around with your health.
2. It's critical to strive for more, just don't do it at the expense of joy.
3. Go fuckin hard but don't forget to live.

I ran 675 days without missing a day. I ran no less than 3.1 miles each day. I ran an average pace of 6'21" across all my runs. I missed my target but I definitely did a thing and I definitely did not fail. While I'm still recovering from my surgery and have no intention to start up another streak, I am ready to hit the road with a new found appreciation and enjoyment for my passion. Let's fuckin go!