Hey, its finally cool to be a loser. Well, at least its not bad to be a loser. Its bad to be quitter though. I’m no quitter. But I am a loser. And that’s ok. :)

Hey, great post! I like that. I would agree that I’ve been a loser in some training, but I feel like I’ve been a winner in all my races except maybe one, even though I’m consistently in the last third of the finishers. Great concept.

Thanks, Chris.

The only time that I have almost quit in a race was Richmond Marathon 2003 when I hit the wall at 15 and was pissed off/angry/defeated. If it were not for my friend, I would have not finished. I would have quit!

As for training, that is more 50-50 in quiting. If I quit during training, sometimes it is because my body is telling me to stop but sometimes it is my mind is telling me to stop. In training, I am not going to do anything stupid to injure myself, I have had to nurse myself through a hamstring injury. My mind tries to use jedi mind tricks on me to convince me that I need to stop and go back to bed, eat the entire cake, spend more time somewhere other than the road. And I hate it when I shame myself.

I have always been an “anti-quitter” and I can honestly say in training, I NEVER quit!! But I can’t honestly say that I have been a “winner” in everything. Something I will be thinking about!! Air-run

Dude, are you doing this on purpose? These posts have been perfect for me. You are pretty familiar with my “loser” status, but I have to say, this race coming up, it will *literally* be the first time in a formal run that I won’t come in dead last. (knocks wood)

I’ve referred to myself as a loser so many times, I stopped even considering what I mean by that. The reality is, I think I was a loser because I didn’t give it my all. I never went flat out, balls to the wall, on anything physical. That knowledge, that I could be doing so much more but never believed in myself enough to push it and try it, I think that kept me in loser status in my own mind’s eye. Hence, my “under an hour” obsession. Finishing this race in under an hour means I didn’t phone it in.

I even think “quit” is nebulous. I mean, I have walked plenty - PLENTY - of times when I should have been running. I have pushed my bike. I have abandoned hope and laid on the side of a road, hoping for a sag wagon that never showed up until I finally had to admit that I would be crossing the finish line on my own steam, like it or not. But, these all occurred during times when I was pushing myself. During a 100 mile bike ride. During a half marathon. And yes, even during training runs. But, you know, I guess as long as I was out there, I didn’t consider it quitting.

Quitting = stopping trying. Not stopping doing. I stop doing a lot - sometimes because I blow out physically, sometimes because I can’t get over the mental hump. But the fact that I’m about 9 days away from my original training goal, and already working on what my next training goal will be, I think that means I haven’t stopped trying. And no matter how many times I “quit” in the middle of a run, I know I’m going to go back out and try again tomorrow.

That makes me a winner, I guess. Huh. When did that happen? - xoxo Mia

I’ve felt like that a lot on my way back from this injury. There have been so many times during a training run when I’ve wanted to stop, take an unscheduled walk break, go back early. A couple of times I have slowed down, but (so far) I’ve always been able to slap myself around and get back on track. You can only do as much as you let yourself do: your body is a huge fan of the status-quo, and your mind a big admirer of old, “safe” behaviour.

good post, chris. I’m with you on this.

Brilliant post Chris, precisely what I needed to hear this week! :)

I am Martha Lutz . . . a.k.a. the Old Lady Sprinter in Kentucky, whose conversation with Jonathan Beverly three years ago sparked this particular set of comments. For the record: walking isn’t quitting. Even walking away isn’t necessarily quitting. Walking away from something you would still like to accomplish but decided was too much of an emotional gamble . . . that is probably quitting. I don’t “quit” when I decide I am too ill or injured to keep going with a workout or a race. But when the pre-race jitters hit, and the “First call, 400 meters” makes me feel sick, it would definitely be quitting to talk myself out of toeing the line and getting out there and running–doing the best I can do on the day. It is impossible to truly win if you quit. On the other hand, not quitting doesn’t make you a winner, but I believe it does keep you from being a loser. It took me 12 years to earn a Ph.D. while raising five young children. There were many times when I was tempted to quit. But I remembered all the training runs and races where I just kept going, no matter how painful or hopeless it felt. And I remembered that always (always!) afterwards I was glad I had not quit. So I kept on plodding until I crossed that finish line. So call me “Dr. Lutz,” and I will remember that it was my running that taught me to persevere in my scholarly pursuits. And that, all by itself, justifies (to me, and that is all that counts) continuing to run no matter what anyone else thinks of this habit of mine.