Just Quit!

Or better yet, don’t even start.

I, like so many other midwestern kids, was not brought up to be a quitter. To quit meant going back on a commitment. There was (and is) value in seeing something to the end, completing a goal, especially if it means toughing it out through the rough patches, but we took it a bit further. To quit is to be weak. To quit is to fail. As an ultrarunner, this mentality has been one of my greatest assets. Unfortunately, in life, it’s been one of my greatest liabilities.

Because here’s the thing – never quitting is not only unrealistic, it is often the wrong decision. It’s often a dangerous decision.

“Oh if you do this long enough, you’ll rack up quite a few DNFs – failure is just part of the game.” A long-distance runner once told me as I dropped from the 100 mile attempt. He didn’t sugarcoat it – I had failed, but instead of shying away from that word “failure,” he embraced it as a simple fact. A fact that when combined with a bevy of successes, were points of pride – signals that he had been in this game for a long time, and had no intention of quitting.  

Ultimately “not quitting” is a means to an end, but not an end itself. Sticking with something, gritting it out, is a very useful skill – but not quitting for the sake of not quitting? Is it worth the expense? Science shows us that our gains come during our rest period. Rest is essential to recovery – it’s really the only recovery method that has robust scientific backing. It’s not only required for endurance, but also for progress. Getting that rest so often means quitting.

Time, focus, and energy are finite things. When we stick with something, we give it all three. Which means something else in our lives get less. This is completely normal. Over the past three years I’ve been growing, birthing, and raising babies. Throw in a new career, a couple cross-border moves, school, and side projects and my TFE is tapped. Things had to be cut. I had to quit. I had to bail.

These “bailures,” included the Marine Corps Marathon last year, shutting down a little candle business, a 100 miler turned 50 miler turned lazy Sunday (that’s two bailures in one – impressive), and dropping more than a couple school courses. Just this month I committed to #NaNoWriMo where you write a 50,000 word novel during the 30 days of November. I completed one day of writing before I bailed.  It didn’t feel good at the time. I was embarrassed, I told people I was going to do it. I told myself I was going to do it. It felt like I was failing at my goals – like I just wasn’t trying hard enough, wasn’t tough enough. Instagram accounts told me I “needed to stop making excuses,” or “find the time.” Slick new moms, freshly postpartum shared their 4am workouts and flat abs. They were making the time. They were following through. 

I resisted these decisions and afterwards they threatened to send me into a guilt spiral straight to ultrasignup to find a redemption race. Luckily I remembered the man’s advice. 

“Do this long enough and you’ll rack up some DNFs.” 

I am in this for the long run – motherhood, work, family, running, writing. If I was going to make it, I was going to have to DNF a few things, DNS a few more, and ultimately slow down, pace myself. I would need to decide what deserved my TFE right now, what could wait until later, and what could ultimately wait forever.

It’s not easy. I find myself sliding back, nearly daily looking at a new project, adding something to my lists. Sometimes I know that I can take on one more thing. I can sneak it in during a lunch break or after the kiddos go to sleep. My partner is retired and we have reliable childcare.  But then I remember – just because you can, doesn’t mean you should. And saying no, walking away after you’ve said yes – doesn’t always mean you’re weak. In fact, it can be the harder decision, because it is a decision, and decisions are hard. It’s often much easier to stick with the status quo, gut it out, see it til the end, damned the costs.

But there are always costs, seen or unseen. 

That’s the thing with TFE and quitting, if you don’t decide for yourself, something (or someone) will decide for you. Your body will break. Your relationship will fail. Your kids will grow up and you’ll miss it. You won’t get to choose the costs. Or, and this is enough, you won’t have time to enjoy it.

Sometimes “because I can,” is a great reason to do something. Sometimes it’s a pretty terrible one.

There’s so much in life I want to do, so many things I want to learn about and experience. And if we’re honest, I take pride in being able to “do it all.” I like to see how far I can take it, how many ways I could add work (and diversity) to my days. I love, and will probably always love, falling into bed at night after a really productive day, exhausted with tomorrow’s to-do list neatly penned in my calendar, pushing each day to its edge.

Luckily for me, running has taught me how to tell when I’m nearing that edge, without blowing up my entire life.  

That edge came, multiple times this year, and gratefully, I’ve backed away.

BEFORE the mental breakdown. BEFORE the long-term injury. BEFORE lasting and irreparable damage. 

Or if we want to frame it the harsher way. I quit. I bailed.

And I’m all the better for it.