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I made reference in my previous blog on "Mental Toughness" to an article on my website about quitting, or rather not quitting. Rather than forcing you to dig around for it, I thought I'd post it here. It breaks the mold from previous postings on this blog in that it is not particularly grounded in research -- just my thoughts and observations for what they are worth. And while the original "Why We Don't Quit" article was written for triathletes, I believe it is equally as applicable to anyone in any sport who has ever thought of giving up. One more note, to those of you who know me personally, keep in mind that the original article was written over a year ago; don't worry I didn't fall off my bike again! So here it is:

When non-triathletes hear I was knocked-off my bicycle racing downhill on a long training ride, last year they give predictable responses: “Should you be pushing so hard?” “Maybe you should slow-down.” “Have you thought that it might be time to stop?” Certainly this is not the first time I’ve heard these sentiments expressed. Hardly a race has gone by where I, like nearly all triathletes, haven’t been confronted by the thought of quitting. And yet, most of us don’t give up.


Knowing our personal reasons for not quitting is crucial to our success as endurance athletes. Triathlon, by design, pushes us to our limits. When we reach them, when we’ve gone as far as we believe we are able, we’d best have at least one good reason to continue. While some may find inspiration in beer at a post-race party or in bragging rights that accompany a finish, neither of these, nor other similar reasons, is enough to psychologically sustain us when conditions get really rough. Here are three reasons for not quitting that might just keep you from doing so.


Reason One: Triathlon is an adventure; we are adventurers.


In our day-to-day existence, opportunities for pushing our limits are restricted. In an article in Outside magazine, Mark Jenkins writes, “For more than 70,000 years, humans lived outside, where life-and-death threats were a constant reality. To survive as a species, we had to adapt to adventure – physically, psychologically, and spiritually.” Today, when life-and-death threats are nearly non-existent, the need for physical, psychological and spiritual challenge remains. Triathlon provides for these needs.



Jenkins writes that the keystone of modern adventure rests in the difference between, “what you fear might happen to you and what reasonably might.” For triathletes this translates into the difference between our pre-race concerns that we may not finish and the reality that few of us will DNF. But the chance always exists that something may happen – we could cramp up swimming, flat-out cycling, or sprain an ankle running. Therein lays the adventure. When we dive into the water at start of a race, we enter an uncharted physical, psychological and spiritual landscape that will challenge us in ways we cannot predict and in ways that let us know we are alive.


If we quit however, we experience a physical, psychological and spiritual death of sorts. An old aphorism says,

A bend in the road is not the end of the road …
Unless you fail to make the turn.

If we stop, the adventure ends and we cease to be adventurers. One reason not to quit is that by continuing on with the triathlon we live out an adventure.

One of the basic tenants of Buddhist philosophy is that life is suffering. Similarly, as any triathlete knows, triathlon is suffering. We do what most women and men cannot, but not without physical, psychological and even spiritual pain. Yet, despite what our minds and bodies may tell us, if we persevere, the suffering eventually subsides.



In his book, “Every Second Counts,” Lance Armstrong reflects on the 2000 Tour de France and his troubled climb up the Joux-Plane Mountain. He writes that if he allowed temporary pain to cause him to quit, “it would have lasted forever, that surrender, even the smallest act of giving up, would have stayed with me for the duration.” He suggests that when we feel like quitting we have to ask ourselves, “which would we rather live with,” the immediate pain of continuing or the lifelong memory of quitting.



Buddhist philosophy also asserts that when one transcends suffering, he or she reaps rewards. Armstrong provides an example of this when he writes that when the pain of climbing the mountain subsides, “something else takes its place, and maybe that thing is greater space. For happiness.” By swimming, cycling or running through the temporary pain, we experience new emotions that were, prior to transcending the pain, inaccessible.



These feelings, though indescribable, profoundly alter our lives. In a chapter in the book, “Becoming an Ironman,” Terry Jordan tries to express the experience of finishing his first Ironman.

I feel as though I climbed this huge mountain, saw an incredible vista, and now I am back on the ground, tying to relate what it looked like. I suppose there are words …somewhere… but it’s like trying to describe childbirth or God or making love. It is so incredibly personal and intimate.

If we quit, this greater space for more intense feelings is never created. A second reason not to quit is to earn a reward few others will know or understand.



Reason Three: Know thyself.


In my experience, probably the best motivation for not quitting is self-knowledge. When we continue on, we come to understand and appreciate ourselves better. One useful thing about self-knowledge as the driving force for persistence is that it applies as much to training as it does to racing.



We don’t stop training because while training we learn volumes about who we are. In today’s world of multitasking, blackberry-ing, and cell-phoning, we are rarely afforded the opportunity to spend time by ourselves. However, as endurance athletes, cannot help – and sometimes enjoy – being alone. Even if we workout with a steady training partner, there come times when it is just us and our thoughts and feelings. These times of solitude, of swimming, cycling or running alone, can become times of self-reflection, of meditation, and of contemplation. During these times we can review who we are and what we’ve done. We can decide who and what we want to be. Because we train, because we set aside time to be alone, we get to know ourselves.



For most people, the task of self-exploration is daunting. As a psychologist, I often work with clients who, when asked to look at themselves, don’t like what they see. I attribute this in large part to our tendency to focus almost exclusively on what we don’t like about who we are. It continues to dismay me that when asked to make a list of the things people dislike about themselves and another of the things about themselves they like, the former list is typically longer than the later.



Too often and in too many areas of our lives we have become resigned to viewing ourselves as limited – as small and weak. Not quitting allows us to discover how expansive we actually are – how big and how strong. I am reminded of a quote mistakenly attributed to Nelson Mandela but actually written by Marianne Williamson.

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be?

When we finish a race, we indisputably know our own strength and power. We cannot help but accept that we are disciplined and dedicated, competitive and courageous, inspirational and even a bit insane. We actually are what we imagined we could be at our best.



Perhaps part of the attraction of both athletes and non-athletes to Ironman distance triathlons is just this: We witness common people much like ourselves doing extra-ordinary things. We know that because they don’t quit, they transform their dream of being an Ironman into reality. By watching them, we are reminded that in our own lives, if we don’t quit, we too will become ironmen in whatever forms that may take.