May 2005. Illinois State High School Track and Field Championships, 3,200-meter finals. Last race of my high school career.
I was lined up in the fast heat against 10 other competitors. And I knew I had no business being there.
Through the final two years of high school athletics, I had struggled with injuries. An injury through my senior track season had not allowed me to run until two weeks prior to the sectional meet. Off of two weeks of training, I had somehow qualified for the final heat of the two-mile run in the state championships.
I was there, and I was scared. The guys I was lined up against had been training all season. They were fast, conditioned, ready to go. I was not.
When the gun went off, the pace went out, and it didn’t take long for my struggle to begin. As the pace seemed to quicken, I struggled more and more.
Throughout the race, I found myself falling farther behind until, with under two laps to go, I was in last place, and my teammate was preparing to come up behind my shoulder to lap me and win the state title with everyone cheering him on.
I was utterly embarrassed. I was dying. I should have been where he was, and I knew I was failing. And what happened next was something I’ll never forget.
As my teammate prepared to round my shoulder, I collapsed. Intentionally. I fell on the ground on the side of the track and just lay there.
I had a great excuse. I’d only been training for a couple of weeks. It was hot. I felt sick. But deep inside, at that moment, I knew.
I had quit.
As people raced over to attend to me, I don’t think there’s been a moment in my life where I felt more exposed and humiliated, even when what I knew was hidden from them.
I spent the rest of the day recovering in a dark locker room, alone. My team went on to win event after event and ultimately take home the state championship trophy. I watched from a distance. I’ll never forget it.
But, here’s what I have learned.
I learned that in life, there are a whole lot of moments when I feel like quitting. There are times I’ve just plain been knocked down. There are many times I’ve felt humiliated and wanted to give up.
But that moment in the final race of my high school career defined quitting for me, and I’ll never forget it. I never want to feel that again.
As life throws its punches, I still reflect back on that experience and what it taught me about patience, endurance, perseverance, and resilience. And really, there’s probably nothing that makes me feel more like quitting than when relationships get difficult, strained, or broken; that makes me want to turn away and say, “I’m done.”
But I can’t quit. Perhaps that’s a character strength that I have carried, or learned.
Yeah, there have been a lot of times I’ve wanted to quit! A job that was ten million times more difficult than I thought. A failed marriage. A friend who walked away. But in these moments, I think back on what I learned and experienced on the track that day.
There’s a part inside of me that keeps me fighting, going, and getting up, even if I’ve been knocked down or knocked out. Because, there’s a part of me that remembers what it feels like to quit.
My running career wasn’t over after that day. It continued on in college. I had many opportunities for redemption. And there are an endless amount of running analogies for life. But this one defined me.
So today, I’m wondering, what’s been a defining moment in your story? What times in your life, perhaps even right now, have you felt like quitting, but something inside you is nudging you to keep going, to keep pushing on, and to keep persevering?
I’d love to know, and I’d love to encourage you.
I hope you’ll share with me today.
-Alex Gerber, gerberxc@gmail.com