People See the One I Finished

"three start lines and only one finish line”

People see the Ironman I finished.

What they don't know is that I crossed three start lines and only one finish line.

And lately I've been thinking that's a pretty good metaphor for life.

We see people's finish lines.

The business they built.

The career they created.

The adventure they're having.

The confidence.

The picture from the top of the mountain.

What we don't see are all the missed cutoffs, wrong turns, failures, restarts and moments when they had absolutely no idea what they were doing.

I've had plenty of those.

My Life Hasn't Exactly Been a Straight Line

Years ago, I walked away from a six-figure job.

I didn't have some brilliant five-year plan waiting for me.

I left because the job was costing me my sanity and my health, and eventually I realized the price was too high.

So I quit.

Then I started a new career in fitness.

I had a great business background.

Fitness experience?

Not so much.

I figured it out.

I learned.

I built a successful business.

And then, because apparently I like making things difficult for myself, I moved it to a completely different area.

Why?

I wanted to live near the beach.

Seriously.

So I rebuilt it.

Again.

Somewhere along the way I started doing triathlons, and the never-before-an-athlete decided to become a triathlon coach.

Eventually I started a kids' triathlon team — something I loved and poured myself into.

And I was pretty darn good at it, if I do say so myself.

Then the pandemic happened.

And I lost it.

There wasn't a lesson I could immediately turn into an inspirational quote.

Something I had built and cared deeply about was simply gone.

That's part of my story too.

And Then There Were the Ironmans

People know I finished an Ironman at 59.

That's the story that gets told.

But before there was a finish, there was a failure.

I attempted my first Ironman in 2019.

That day, I spent so much time coaching strangers and helping other people that I hadn't even realized I was in danger of missing the bike cutoff.

And Ironman doesn't care about your intentions.

There's a cutoff.

I missed it.

That's it.

Swept up by the white truck.

Except it wasn't.

Because eventually I went back.

And this time I crossed the finish line.

That's the picture people see.

Ironman finisher at 59.

And it was an EPIC finish.

But there's another part.

Years later, I tried again.

And I didn't finish that one either.

So yes, I have an Ironman medal.

I also have two Ironmans I didn't finish.

All three belong to me.

We Need to Talk About the Flat Tire

There's an analogy I've always loved.

If you're driving down the road and get a flat tire, what do you do?

You pull over and fix the tire.

You don't get out of the car and slash the other three.

That would be ridiculous.

But we do it to ourselves all the time.

We miss a few workouts and decide we've fallen completely off track.

We eat something we hadn't planned and decide the whole weekend is ruined.

We try something and fail and decide maybe we're just not the kind of person who can do it.

One thing goes wrong...

and somehow we turn it into evidence that everything is wrong.

I've done versions of that too.

But somewhere along the way, I've gotten better at asking:

Which tire is actually flat?

Because that's the one that needs my attention.

Not the other three.

Maybe you have a flat tire right now.

Maybe you stopped exercising.

Maybe your body has changed.

Maybe you've lost confidence in yourself.

Maybe something you built didn't work.

Maybe life threw something at you that you never saw coming.

Okay.

That happened.

But it doesn't automatically erase everything else.

You don't have to wait until Monday.

Or January.

Or until you feel motivated again.

You don't have to fix your entire life.

Fix the flat tire.

And start there.

The Starting Lines Matter Too

When I look back now, I'm proud of the woman who crossed that Ironman finish line.

Of course I am.

But I'm even more proud of something else.

I kept coming back to starting lines.

Not just in races.

In business.

In my health.

In completely new chapters of my life.

Sometimes because I wanted to.

Sometimes because life gave me absolutely no choice.

Maybe that's what changing your story really looks like.

Not writing the perfect one.

Not avoiding failure.

Not getting everything right.

It's realizing that one bad chapter doesn't screw up the entire book.

So if you're looking at someone else's finish line today and wondering why your life doesn't look like hers...

Remember:

You're probably seeing the one she finished.

You have no idea how many she didn't.

And if there's something in your own life that isn't okay right now?

Don't slash the other three tires.

Fix the flat one.

Then keep going.

— Deb

Strong Starts Now.