I started 2018 with three main goals: run a marathon, run a sub-2:00 half-marathon, and complete a triathlon. There were probably other, smaller goals I never wrote down, but those were the Big Deal goals. The ones I intended to shape my year around.

I started January motivated and optimistic. I ended January with a sprained ankle and a strained hamstring. I should've taken that for a bad omen, and adjusted my expectations accordingly. Those first injuries derailed my spring marathon plans, and knocked me out of running for almost six weeks. After getting the okay to start running again, I hired a running coach, trusting that wiser heads than mine would get me to the start line in one piece.

Nope. Not a chance. That optimism turned out to be over-optimism.

Things started out well. I made it through almost the entirety of my 6 month training plan in one piece. I even ran a half-marathon PR! Not, unfortunately, the sub-2:00 I wanted. It was a PR, but not quite good enough to mark that goal off my list. After the half-marathon, my achilles started to act up. Whether it was increasing my long runs into the 16, 18, 20 miile territory, or all the hills scattered around my neighborhood, I don't now. Whatever the cause, my achilles was not happy. It hurt to even walk.

Honestly, I probably would have run the marathon even with the injury (I'm stubborn, but not smart about my body. There's a reason I'm often injured). A week before my race, however, I got into a car accident. My car was totaled, and while I didn't break anything, I banged up my right leg badly enough that I couldn't run. There went the marathon goal.The hardest part was getting injured so close to race day. Why couldn't it have happened at the beginning of the training plan, before I'd put all those hours and weeks and months into it?

Two marathon attempts, two failures. One half-marathon attempt, one sort-of success, sort-of failure.

And the triathlon goal? Well, that crashed and burned in the early days of the year when my anxiety popped up and said no. I became convinced that I would crash on my bike, or drown on swim. I had visions of finishing last, or failing to finish entirely. Thus overwhelmed with worries, I stopped biking and swimming. I told myself that triahtlon was a silly idea nad i didn't want it that bad. All of which was a lie, of course. I did want it, and it wasn't silly. But instead of celebrating my first season as a triathlete, I'm essentially starting over. Lesson learned.

That's really what this year ended up being about: lessons learned. There is a certain temptation to throw my hands up, stomp my feet, and call it all a failure. But it was still an experience. I learned things about myself, and my motivations, and my mindset. Even if I didn't do what I set out to doesn't mean I failed. I just took other paths. And next year I'll keep learning.

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