Failure

How do you know when you fail?

Today, I failed.

My team disagrees. They tell me I did my best, so I can’t fail.

This isn’t the heart rhythm of someone who’s about to have a heart attack. It’s the elevation chart for my ride today.

I rode well, felt strong, and didn’t succumb to the heat. But I barely crawled to the top of that climb at about 24 miles, and just before 30 miles I encountered an even steeper climb. After 1300 feet of climbing, the hill was beyond my ability.

I tried. I failed.

Our culture doesn’t like to acknowledge failure. We try to avoid offending anyone by facing the fact that sometimes we fail. But it’s a lie.

I began this ride with a big goal, to ride farther than I’ve done before each day over this difficult terrain. Today it became clear that I won’t achieve my goal. When you don’t accomplish a goal, you fail.

We misunderstand what it means to fail.

I failed. That doesn’t mean I’m a failure.

I’m not a loser, or worthless, or weak. I’m not a bad person. I can still do good things. The meaning and importance of our project hasn’t diminished.

A sure way to avoid failing is to not try.

I tried to accomplish a God-sized goal. I took a risk, set the bar high. I tried, gave it my best, and it’s been a blast. Doing this, and failing, is certainly better than riding the safe, predictable trails at home.

Falling short in a worthwhile endeavor isn’t the end of the world. Seems to me that the real failure is the waste of life involved in succeeding at things that don’t matter.

I’m not done.

I didn’t quit. I’ll be back on the road, facing even bigger climbs, tomorrow morning. I’ll do my best.

But these climbs are outside my ability. There’s no shame in acknowledging that fact.

I tried. I failed. I’m disappointed.

But I’m glad I tried. It’s the only way to write an interesting story with the life God’s given me.

Does this experience challenge your notions of success and failure?

Please leave a comment here.