The Seventh Mile - The Art of Finishing

Repost from a few months ago over at InkSlingers.

I recently conducted some statistical analysis on my life and discovered a phenomenon I've termed "The Seventh Mile."

Memorial Day weekend I participated in the Soldier Field 10-mile Run (for which I acquired the shiny new t-shirt I am currently wearing). I trained for months prior to the race (following a program), and got to a place where I could consistently run 6.5 miles any time I wanted. Slowly, but always with a predictable result.

You know what happened the day of the race? When I reached that seventh mile, my body assumed I was done. That's what I'd trained it to do - go about seven miles and then stop.

A year ago, I started working seriously on my second manuscript. When it was about two-thirds of the way finished, I decided to set it aside for an idea that I thought would be more marketable. Now, that third manuscript is also two-thirds of the way done.

I'm nothing if not consistent.

And I'm in danger of training my writer-brain into a rut - a repeatable result of coming up short. There is something to be said for practicing the art of finishing.

I watch a lot of sports and study a lot of athletes. When you look at your Kobe Bryants and Peyton Mannings, the experts always want to talk about how they prepare, train, maintain control and relish the clutch moments - because they are READY for them.

I want to pattern my writing life after them. Study the competition, do fundamental exercises, study the craft and the business... I want to be the best conditioned, the most prepared, etc so that I can avoid that seventh mile trap in the future.

During the run, I walked that seventh mile. I nursed my fatigue and my side stitch and put one foot in front of the other. When I got to mile eight, I felt better. And when I hit mile nine, I could actually SEE the finish line and struggled to control my adrenaline so that I didn't run too fast and completely destroy myself.

The point is, I finished. It wasn't pretty, but I made it. You don't get style points for your process - just your finished product. One keystroke at a time, I'll give it a beginning, a middle, and an end. Even if at first it sucks, I will practice the art of finishing.

What would you like to practice "finishing" today?

The benefits of trying to do something too hard

Have y'all seen Secretariat - the movie about the race horse winning the triple crown? Remember the thesis statement, something to the effect: "We run our own race, Penny; they don't get to decide whether we won or lost."

I thought about that line a lot last week, building up to our infamous ten mile run challenge. We started training in February. We fought through illness, injury, insecurity, bad weather... lots of bad weather. Memorial Day weekend was fast approaching and we knew we weren't ready.

I don't try new things very often. I don't like failing. I despise wasting my time (and I thought trying and failing counted as wasting). But running was something I'd always romanticized. I wanted to try. I wanted to know for sure whether or not I could do it.

And much to my surprise, I wasn't too old, or too slow, or too out of shape. The only thing I "wasn't" was willing to try.

Like I said in my post on Veronica Roth's book DIVERGENT, I learned something about mental toughness - something I'd heard a lot about while watching sports but not really experienced for myself.

Someone who is mentally tough doesn't meltdown when things are rough. When they face failure or rejection, they use it as fuel instead of an excuse to quit. When they are inches from victory, they keep their cool and don't celebrate too early. When they reach the endzone, they act like they've been there before (even if they haven't).

I thought mentally tough people were just born that way, that they had some intangible something beyond my understanding. What they really had was experience. Practice. They'd given themselves the opportunity to grow by challenging themselves. And I hadn't, really.

The secret to mental toughness - to reaching a point where failure isn't so scary and criticism doesn't cut so deep - is practicing doing things that make you uncomfortable. Repeatedly. I think it's really just that simple. Like Roth said in DIVERGENT, you gain perspective as you take risks and face your fears.


When I was training for the 10 mile run, I used a training program. I very, very rarely managed to successfully complete my training sessions. When I was supposed to run four miles, I only made three. When I was supposed to run six, I only made four. I failed repeatedly. I channeled my frustration into determination. I learned to control my adrenaline, to set myself up for success days in advance with hydration and food intake. Slowly, I started to change mentally. And I fell head over heels in love with running.

I didn't care how far I went, or how fast. I just wanted to go. When race day came, I was just happy to be there. The finish line had nothing to do with it. By the way, that picture (above) is of me and "The Intern" warming up before the race started (with Soldier Field in the background).



I did make it the full ten miles. It was much easier than I thought it would be. There was this one amazing moment when I KNEW I was going to make it - the nine mile mark (picture above), with the tall Chicago skyline on my left and Lake Michigan on my right. Soldier Field, the finish line, was a mile in front of me and I could SEE it. I got a huge adrenaline rush and had to remind myself not to be that guy who has the game winning shot right in front of him and blows the slam dunk. Mental toughness is handling both adversity AND prosperity.


And yes, I got my t-shirt. It looks like a soccer jersey and it was totally worth it.

So what do you think, friends? Is there something you've always wanted to do but there is something holding you back? Is there something "risky" you could try to toughen yourself up? What's holding you back? They don't get to decide whether you won or lost, Penny - what do you have to lose?