Failure IS an Option

Let's be honest.  I am not what you would call studious.  I have never been and probably never will be but, I have always respected smart people and admired their ability to think.

In January I did something that a lot of people will think is nuts, I did something that some will not believe...I applied to Western University to start my Doctorate of Education.  (I'm still surprised I completed a Masters of Education).

"That is not big deal", some might say.  But if you knew me, my educational background, and the fact that I am not so bright, this application will come as a shock.  Why would I apply for such a tough program when I am not so bright?  Well, because I can.

Here is a picture of my grade 7 first term report card.  If you look closely, you will see that I failed math and my work habits sucked! IMPROVEMENT NEEDED across the board.

While preparing the application for the EdD I spent a lot of time reflecting.  I realized that I have overcome more than my share of failures along the way to this new goal.




- I realized that I failed a few subjects in school and even a university course but that didn't make me dumb, just pointed out that I was lazy.
- I realized that I had a few meetings with people who I greatly respected telling me that I should never be a school administrator but that didn't make me not a leader.
- I realized that I have lost friends not living up to their expectations but that didn't take away from me being a best friend to Megan.
- I realized that I shed way too many tears over relationships that I thought were "the one" on my way to meeting Lennie the true "one" in my life.

By Merriam-Webster's http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/failure definition I am a failure;
       1 a : omission of occurrence or performance; a failing to perform a duty or expected action
          b (1) : a state of inability to perform a normal function (2) : an abrupt cessation of normal functioning
          c : a fracturing or giving way under stress
       2 a : lack of success
          b : a failing in business
       3 a : a falling short
          b : deterioration, decay
       4: one that has failed

I have failed to perform, I was not successful, I have fallen way too short of many goals (just read my blogs about trying to break 6 freak'n hours in the marathon).

My failures have been hard times, often with me figuratively falling down.  What is your natural instinct when you fall?  To get up, brush yourself off, walk straighter and faster right?  Well, I have gotten up every time.  Some times more slowly than others but I always get up - usually with the help of great people in my life.

I can hardly wait to start Western for the EdD program (yes I got in).  It doesn't mean that I am a success but it does mean that I have overcome failure.  In my world, failure IS an option in order to grow, learn, and be better than you were yesterday and that is something we all should be striving for and modelling for those around us.

When was the last time you failed and what did you do about it?

Boston 2013

In the fall of 2006 my best friend Megan had the hair brained idea that we needed to get out of the house and do some sort of activity through our city's Spectrum magazine.  A magazine that offered activities ranging from cooking to martial arts to language studies.  We had tried to sign up for cooking classes but they were full.  The year before we did aerobics and dance classes but we sucked at it so she suggested a "learn to run" program.  I told her, I don't run, fat chicks don't run.  But, because I knew I needed an activity and wanted to hang out a couple of times a week, I reluctantly signed up with her.

I remember the pivotal moment very clearly.

We had attended biweekly lectures on running form, socks, and nutrition.  We had been taught and mastered the run/walk method.   We had pushed ourselves to the classes when we were so tired after teaching all day and kept going even when we both learned that we were not natural born runners.

Our group had met at Springbank park for a 5km run on an October morning.  We were jogging along with the group and were pushing our way back to where we had started after finishing a loop.  Lots of runners were passing us, dogs were barking and sniffing everywhere, bikes and strollers were exploring when I clearly remember seeing it.

In front of us, like a beacon, was a tall, thin guy walking with his family.  Since our running group was all ladies, everyone was chatting and not paying attention to much of anything, but I saw it.  I can see it in my mind so vividly.  As we approached the man I knew what he was wearing.  I knew the logo, colours, and meaning underneath the blue, white, and yellow jacket.  It was a jacket that only special people earned.  Special people who were runners, but not just any kind of runner, a marathon runner.  Not just any kind of marathon runner, but a Boston Marathon runner, and not just any Boston Marathon runner, but a Boston finisher.

As we approached the man from behind I remember saying to Megan, look, look at the jacket, it is a sign for us.  It is a sign that we will run a marathon some day.  She laughed and laughed because we had just suffered through a 5km.  As we got closer to the man I remember he looked so large and proud.  I remember him talking with his family and he looked so good in his jacket.  Then in a moment of some sort of running hysteria, I remember I reached out and touched him.  I remember that as we were passing him I rubbed my hands on his back touching the logo.  He quickly turned around and wondered if he felt something but I had moved to the other side of the path to pass him and his family.  I remember I looked back 25 meters later and said to myself I will run a marathon some day.

3.5 marathons later (I call cancelled NYC my .5) I am deeply sadden by the events in Boston today. I am sadden because most of the injured are spectators.

If you have ever been married to, lived with, or loved a marathon runner you know the sacrifice YOU have to make to support your runner. You wake up at a ridiculous hour to see them off for their long runs. You buy gallons and gallons of Gatorade at Costco only to be sent back for only the purple kind. You worry when they are limping that they have injured themselves. You listen for hours about running, racing, and chaffing. You watch as they miss parties, go to bed early, and try to eat well during training. And you stand for hours as they attempt to run a 'personal best' that will or won't come, and then you endure the months of reflection on what went well and what they could of done better to gain 1 minute.

I have watched in awe for years the Boston Marathon and yesterday was no different.  I set up my computer at work to have the broadcast live, sent messages and tweets to my favourite runners and running buds, and announced to my department as the race was progressing.  I cried as the finishers crossed the line in amazing feats of athletic prowess. 

The Boston Marathon is special, it saved me from deep depression when I got cancer. I watched the race live from home when I recovered from surgery and set goals to return to marathon running when all that crap was behind me. This marathon is magical to everyone, runner or non runner, marathon runner or non marathon runner. Even if we never have the opportunity to run it, it is annual sporting event that earned everyone's respect.

The people who died or are seriously injured in Boston are those people who have stood by their runners and supported them through the brutality of marathon training.  Up to 19 weeks of pain and suffering, and hours and hours of difficult support...and they don't earn a jacket.  Thank you supporters and spectators for your sacrifices so we can earn ours.

#prayforBoston