But have you ever set a goal for yourself and then failed to live up to or reach it? Of course you have, if you’re human. Everyone has set out on a journey, literal or metaphorical, and failed to get to their intended destination. I recently worked with a client who made her way through a graduate program, and then, with only a few weeks remaining before graduation, had an epiphany that she’d taken the wrong course of study. She dropped out suddenly, and while she never doubted her decision to change directions, she simply could not forgive herself for what she perceived as a grievous failure to complete what she’d started.

A few weeks ago, I experienced my own failure to reach a goal. I participated in a marathon I thought would be one of my best. Always a back-of-the-packer, my running goals tend to be modest, but after scrutinizing the elevation chart for the course, I felt sure I could get my best finish time in what would be my 20th race of the marathon distance or longer. I was in good shape, and I felt my training had been adequate. The course provided a net loss of elevation, and since I’m a stable downhill runner, I decided to set my goal for a sub 5-hour marathon—something I’ve only ever achieved once before.

On Sunday morning when the race got going, however, a number of things went wrong. I started too fast and cramped up by mile 16. This took me down to slower than my usual pace as I struggled with pain that ran from my toes to my nose. Rather than taking some deep breaths and re-evaluating my goal (maybe setting a new one that was more achievable given the circumstances), I let disappointment and self recrimination get the best of me. For the better part of 10 miles, I vacillated between fighting back tears and giving in to them.

When I finally crossed the finish line, a snotty, puffy mess, I had not only NOT achieved my best marathon time, I had achieved one of my worst.

“Well, at least you crossed the line,” you say. Sure. I’ll give you that. But just like you, I struggle with my own version of self reproach on my bad days, and I wasn’t quick to let myself off the hook for failing to run a smart race. It was only after a good meal, a shower, and a very long, deep sleep that I came to my senses and remembered how I believe that very few failures in this life (if any) should preclude self forgiveness.

To quote a fellow runner friend, “Setting goals is a good thing. Being defined by them is probably not such a good idea.” That’s right! Failing to see something through the way we originally envisioned it does not have to define who we are.

What race are you running? And what are the failures, big or small, you’re ruminating over? Did you reach the destination, but in such poor condition that you vowed never to get into another similar situation again? Perhaps you’re notoriously hard on yourself, and no matter what you achieve, it’s never enough.

If there’s one thing running has taught me, it’s that there is always another chance. If you’re facing a failure, great or small, first forgive yourself. Take some time to get into a mental space where you can quiet your inner critic. Whether you tried your hardest to plan for success, as I did on my recent race, or slacked off and failed to adequately throw yourself into the project/relationship/job, it’s too late to go back in time. So stop doing that. You’ll never be any younger than you are today (never get to do your first marriage or raise your children over again), but you can look ahead. After you’ve let go of what haunts you (easier said than done, I know; don’t be afraid to seek help), take some time to understand what went wrong and to imagine how you would do things differently next time. Then, when you’re ready, look for another race. This time you’ll know yourself better than the last time. This time, it also won’t be perfect and you may not achieve exactly what you’re hoping for. This is the cycle of life. And in life, as in running, forgiving oneself makes it possible to move forward after failure—over and over again.

February is the month of love. And while I love romantic love as much as the next gal, this month, I’d like to celebrate all of the loves of our lives. The older I get, the more I love the people, things, and creatures in my life with abandon. My dogs, my writing, the city where I make my home, the messy little condo I live in, and even the pouch of chub around my tummy all inspire my appreciation and, yes, affection.

Happy New Year!

I hope your holidays were all that you hoped they would be. Welcome to my new year’s resolution. Over the past year, I’ve been given the gift of hearing wonderful encouragement and stories of inspiration from readers of my first book, Second Wind: One Woman’s Midlife Quest to Run Seven Marathons on Seven Continents, and I feel like it’s time now to give back for all the pats on the back and virtual high fives. This is my first monthly newsletter, which I hope will be an encouragement to you to hear and heed the call to catch your own second wind in 2012! Here goes.

The Beginning of One More Year

When I was in my twenties, I lived with an interesting conundrum. I was simultaneously terrified of the world around me (especially authority figures whom I assumed I needed to please in order to be safe and successful) and overly confident in making major life decisions. I read the faces of almost everyone in my life–parents, professors, ministers, and employers–in an attempt to gauge whether or not they were happy with my performance… and then changed my behavior based on what I suspected I read in their expressions. At the same time, I brazenly jumped into marriage at age twenty-three and made huge life-altering demands of my (now ex) husband borne out of terrible insecurity and a ludicrous arrogance that I could make a marriage work properly by sheer force of will.

I know I’m not the only person who spent her twenties alternating between pandering to other people’s perceived wishes and stomping her foot with ill-informed demands on others or the world. When my mid-thirties came along and brought with it a divorce and, eventually, a crisis of identity and faith, I was almost relieved. I was brought to my knees, exhausted from trying to control how others felt about me. I desperately needed to give myself permission to really evaluate who I had become and whether or not that person was someone I liked and wanted to continue being. I’d hit “the wall.”

Have you hit your own wall in the marathon of life? If you have, you’ll relate to the metaphor: It’s that point (about 16 miles into a literal marathon) when you feel like you’ve depleted your reserves and aren’t quite sure how you’ll get to the finish line, much less how you’ll enjoy the journey. If so, you may be in need of catching a Second Wind. Well, then, welcome to the Second Wind Newsletter! Monthly, I’ll be sending out some insights and encouragement to those of us who need a little boost of encouragement as we turn the corner into the middle part of the life-cycle–and this is month number one.

Since the days when I hit my own wall and desperately sought to revise my life and catch my own Second Wind, I’ve worked as a therapist with hundreds of others who come to similar evaluative points in their lives. And one thing they all bring to the table when reexamining their life choices and the identities they’ve built for themselves is Bravery (if they don’t bring it to the table right off the bat, often a crisis helps to develop it quickly). Yes, if you want to catch a Second Wind, you’ll need to be brave. In fact, let’s call 2012 the year of Bravery!

Bravery

So what is Bravery? And how do you know if you have enough of it to make a commitment to shed old, un-useful values and behaviors, replacing them with new resolves and freedom to try new things? Here is my portrait of Bravery, as I have come to know her.

Bravery cries herself to sleep, but still wakes up in the morning, makes coffee, and dresses for work. She is resilient, knowing that what does not happen today may also not happen tomorrow, but it is important, and so she stays with it–unless she decides it’s time to let it go.

Bravery tells the truth–to herself and to others. She endures the disapproval of supervisors, and mentors, and the needy tendrils of loved ones who reach for her and hold on too tightly. She smiles when she is happy and weeps when she is sad, although her brothers and sisters don’t care much for her authentic expressions of joy and grief.

Bravery takes chances, jumps out of planes, and learns to play the violin in her old age. But she does it all with intention, knowing (or knowing that she will know) what she hopes to gain. She considers her options and chooses this (or that) as consciously as she is able–and more consciously next time around when she has gained more insight.

Bravery winds her way through life’s labyrinth with the bright light of audacity to show the way. She knows that she must be willing to meander amidst the unknown. She believes she has the right to explore dark corners, to make wrong turns, and to self-correct. She believes she is just as qualified to make brilliant discoveries as her brother, Heroism.

Bravery knows she is not alone in the world. When she falters, she reaches out to others. When she goes on an adventure, she leaves emergency numbers behind. She is accountable to others and others hold her accountable. They are invested in her success and she invests in theirs.

Bravery can bear no more than a step or two in her youth, but as she practices her cadence and finds her perfect pace, she grows into a giantess. She expands into a commanding goddess who lifts others up and demands that they become brave, too.

If you see yourself reflected in this portrait of Bravery, you are already someone striving for a Second Wind Life. If you’d like to see yourself in it, you’re on the precipice of something revolutionary. Join me on the journey to become ever more resilient, authentic, intentional, audacious, and accountable to living into our best lives at midlife. And stay tuned in the coming months for ideas about how to find your way.

To find out more about developing and nurturing the 5 traits of bravery, check out my group course on the Five Second Wind Traits. Next series begins February 21. Sign up now.