Not all wins feel good in the moment
A few weeks ago, while training for my next race, I had one of those days where everything just clicked.
I leapt out of bed before my alarm. It was snowing outside and the temperature was negative, but that didn’t phase me one bit. I threw on a matching set, my coat, and headed to the gym.
My training plan called for 90 minutes of running that day. Usually, I dread being inside on a treadmill for that long, but not that day. As soon as I got to the gym, I hopped up on a machine and bounced my way through my run. I ended up running 10 miles, which is more than I usually accomplish in 90 minutes.
The whole time, I felt light on my feet, strong, and capable. I totally crushed my pace. The run felt so easy that I could have kept going.
Two days later, I was scheduled to do another training run. This time, my plan called for 6.4 miles, which usually takes me about an hour.
When I woke up that morning, I didn’t feel a single ounce of motivation. I laid in bed debating with myself about when to get up, wishing I could stay right where I was. At one point, I started telling myself that because I was traveling that day, it was probably fine to do my run later at the hotel. I watched the minutes tick by, waiting for the moment when I could say, “Well, there’s not enough time left for my run now. Might as well stay in bed.”
But I knew I was kidding myself: After a long day of travel, I would probably be more tired and even less likely to do the run. I finally convinced myself to get out of bed by reminding myself that training for this race is important to me—and “later” isn’t guaranteed.
I dragged myself out from under the duvet, slowly got dressed, and left for the gym.
I was still dragging by the time I climbed up onto a treadmill. When I started running, it felt like someone had tied concrete blocks to my feet. My pace sucked. My legs hurt. There was no bounce, no joy, no lightness anywhere to be found. I did not feel strong or capable, mentally or physically. Every single minute was a grind.
I called it quits at 4.5 miles. I didn't even complete the workout.
On paper, that second day sure looks like a failure: I quit before I hit my goal. I ran a lot slower than usual. My steps were too heavy.
But when I stop and look at the bigger picture, this is what I see:
I see myself getting out of bed after making every excuse not to. I see myself showing up at the gym, even though it was the last thing I wanted to do. I see myself pushing through a difficult four-and-a-half-mile run without vowing to quit running altogether.
When I look back on those two very different training sessions now, I don’t see failure in either one. In fact, I consider them both to be wins.
On the first day, the win was easy. I wanted it, I was ready for it, and I went out and did it.
On that second day, the win was incredibly hard. It took every ounce of effort I could gather to get myself to the gym and run, and it felt awful the whole time—and I did it anyway.
That’s what I want to focus on here. Not every win is going to feel good. Sometimes, your wins won’t even feel like wins—but it doesn’t mean they’re not.
If I had to choose which day I'm more proud of between the two, it’s definitely the second one. Don’t get me wrong: Of course I'm proud of the day I effortlessly ran 10 miles. That’s not something I could’ve done a year ago, and I don’t take it for granted. But I’m more proud that I showed up for myself on a day when I absolutely did not want to.
I saw a video of an interview a few months back with Sharran Srivatsaa, who shared that the mentality that motivates him on hard days is, “It’s okay to suck, but not skip.” He talked about how, if he’s made a commitment but he just doesn’t feel like following through on it, he tells himself it's okay to do it imperfectly, but not to skip it. That simple reminder helps him move through his resistance. When he’s really struggling, he reminds himself, “You're still showing up and doing it, and that’s what matters.”
My second run sucked, but I didn’t skip it—and that’s a huge win.
This mentality is helping me develop a kinder definition of success for myself. It’s a definition that’s less about checking boxes and more about rewarding effort. I no longer only celebrate the days that feel easy and I totally crush it; I also celebrate the days when I prove to myself that I can move through my resistance. And every time I do, it helps me build trust with myself and makes me want to work through my resistance the next time.
Now, let’s talk about you: Have you ever had a “non-win” win? Share it with us! We want to help you celebrate it. Hit “reply” and let us know.
Remember: Even if it doesn’t feel good in the moment, it’s still a win when you show up for yourself.
Big hugs,
