This race was the hardest athletic pursuit I have done to date. Now that I have talked about my 5k, it is time to break down my 10k.

In Massachusetts, we had been blessed with a tremendously gorgeous spring. Mother nature did not skip it, as she so often does. No, this year did not go straight from cold to excessive heat, but we had weeks upon weeks of temperate, dry spring weather. I was in heaven. I made the mistake of having hope this weather would transfer to the 10k.

The forecast for Boston was 70s, light rain, and high humidity. The humidity, which has not left since (a gripe that I will not bore you with), had started a few days prior. I looked at the forecast and thought, ‘okay. That is not going to be great but will be tolerable.’ I have not done a lot of hot weather running and am a very cranky person when I am too hot (ask my wife). So much so that living near the arctic circle often appeals to me (don’t get your hopes up, Sara).

I knew that this race would be harder and longer. I had done a prior 10k but was in better shape at that point and it was also a cool Maine day. So I was ready with my headphones, outfit, and race fuel. My wife brought the kids in to cheer on myself and Crary, my close friend who agreed to do this crazy medley with me.

As we parked and started to walk towards Boston Common, it was clear the forecast was wrong. The sun was strong and the air was thick. The weather that morning decided to hang out in the 80s with 80%-90% humidity… and full sun. Crary and I made our way to the corral and waited for the race to start.

10,000 people began to make their way to the start line and before we knew it, we were off. This course begins much the same as the 5k. We headed out Comm Ave. and had the shelter of the trees. People were jazzed and I was feeling strong. As we headed out Comm Ave, we kept going past where the 5k turned around. Out towards the BU campus we went. We turned on to Bay State road, a narrow street with decent shade and hit the 2-mile mark. I was feeling good. I had been running a pace I wanted to, even a bit quicker. We turned left onto Granby St. and right back onto Comm. This is where it became the true challenge. Full sun, relentless heat, and I couldn’t see the turnaround point. Another mile we trudged on out past the BU arena and made a U-turn just past the 3-mile mark. I had now started walking far more segments.

It was hot. The sun was beating down, the air was thick, our bodies could not wick away the sweat, and to boot, the pavement radiated with heat like I haven’t felt before. I wanted to quit. I really really did. But where the heck do I go? I was in good company, though. I have never seen so many people being careful, playing it safe, and walking more than they planned. We bobbed and weaved back and forth to grab seconds of shade from the sparse trees. Despite my desires to quit, I kept going.

My kids were there. I want to show them that we can do hard things. I wanted to show them that your dad has set goals and he is doing them. That means you can set your goals and do them. It may look hard. It may BE hard. But you can do it. I came here to finish this damn race. These were my words. This was my inner talk that I used to overcome the feelings of doubt.

Finally, the course found shade again. I came under the Boston Strong overpass and a DJ was playing Don’t Stop Believin’. Cheesy? Maybe. But it worked. The water stations were pouring water on our heads for us and that helped. Mile 5. Just. Keep. Going. At this point I changed my goal to do it in under 1:30:00. That may sound slow to some, and maybe it sounds fast to others. This was 10 minutes slower than my unofficial goal. That goal changed when I met the realities of the day.

I hit the last water station and saw Jess from Marathon Sports (also a huge cheerleader for me and the reason I chose the medley!). She cheered for me and ran to give me a hug, despite my wet dog appearance. I was so close now and I wanted to finish this the way I wanted to. As I came around the corner and crossed the finish line, 1:29:52. My kids, my wife, and Crary were cheering me across the finish line. I was filled with pride, joy, and was really friggin’ hot.

For many of us, the fear of failing keeps us from trying new things. But what is failure? Who sets the bar for which failure is determined? I could have called this race a failure because I did it much slower than I had initially thought. But why did I do it? I did this race to accomplish it. To be proud and show up. To do something hard and prove to myself that I can. To show my kiddos that they too can conquer things, challenges, and situations where they may not ‘look’ the part.  Not one of the spectators or finishers saw me as a failure. They cheered me on because I was succeeding!

I want to write a whole post on this soon, but to folks contemplating things, don’t let a fear of failure keep you. Failure is set by an arbitrary standard, so work to set your own standard. Set your own expectations and be real. Do hard things because you can and you are capable of far more than you realize. This race proved to me that I can. It will not be my last.