Moments of Failures
Life as seen under another’s eye can seem very enticing. Especially when we as the viewers do not know the whole story. The behind the scene of how that life came to be.
Just today I was looking at one of my race medals. It was for a 15k trail race that I did last year, after months of dealing with my injury and back-to-back sessions of physiotherapy. It was truly a celebratory moment as I endured the 4 hours and 23 minutes of hardship of climbing and running parts of Mt. Lawu by myself. That meant a lot to me. It felt like a test of how far my body and my mental state can take me to. And so I looked at it proudly-probably even tearing up a bit-as I knew that it didn’t happen without all the failures and drawbacks that I’ve faced.
Just a couple of months ago, I also signed up for a 15k trail race, which regrettably I didn’t finish before the cut off time. I still remember the feeling of my thighs and quads burning up in pain, as I still have a lot of distance to cover. I remembered crying at the last water station, as I knew I wasn’t going to make it. My “one leg after another” mantra did not work back then, and I was disappointed at myself. A lot.
Failures humble me.
As the feeling of disappointment dissipates, gratitude slowly kicks in. The wonderful yet painful journey kept me going. Going through places I’ve never been before, gasping for air as my lung is giving up, and legs that felt as heavy as a wooden lump from all those elevations. As I’m planning to sign up for another trail race for the 30k category, I realized that this might be such an insane decision judging by my current skill.
But I guess I needed the insanity to let me feel something and make me feel more alive. The chances of me not finishing it is rather high, but let me just say this: what the hell. I will just enjoy it as it is. Even if by some miracle I finish it, let me treat that as a gift.
I realized how the old me would be so damn proud of who I’ve become, or not become. I could imagine the child version of me saying, “You did well..”
Times like this, I feel like patting myself in the back.
It took me a lot of sweats, tears, sometimes curse words, to get to where I am now.
I’ve encountered a lot of failures in life. From failing to get a job, failing to get scholarship, failing at relationships, getting rejected by a lot of guys, failing to finish my race, and the most painful and traumatic (one that I haven’t really recover from) one I guess, is getting rejected by my own family.
Failures can make me feel lonely. Because at times like these, is when I discovered the kind of people I’m surrounding myself with.
Moments of failures, are in a way, moments of truth.
It took me thirty years to finally say that I don’t want my achievements to define me. I want no title. Let me be defined by my struggle (internally and externally), my suffering, and my tears. Let me be remembered as someone who faced all my worst moments heads on.
While achievements are addictive and short-lived, my failures shaped me.
