This past Monday was the one-mile benchmark at Orangetheory. I was a bit in my head about it before going, but feeling pretty confident that I could beat my fastest time of 9:25. Until I got onto the treadmill and we were about to kick off the challenge. I was immediately in my head, and my quickly elevating heart rate reflected that. 

If you aren’t aware, Orangetheory offers each participant the option of wearing a heart rate monitor to check in and see where you are throughout the class. The goal is to reach 12 “splat” points, which is basically meaning you’re in either the orange or red zones for 12 minutes. One minute per splat.

Now, your zones are personal, so my orange zone will most likely be different than that of the person next to me. Zones are calculated based on your age and fitness level, and can change as each of those parameters change. But, after many workouts, you get to know the feeling of how hard you’re pushing and just what zone you’re in. 

When the time officially began for us to start running, I decided I would try to start at—or just slightly above—my push pace and occasionally increase the speed. I had a previous time to beat, so I had a target of where I needed to be. 

I was a little surprised, though, when my heart rate jumped into the orange zone much more quickly than it would have during a non-timed challenge. It became clear to me that I was nervous, and completely in my head about it. And so I spent the next 9 minutes trying to trick myself to get out of my head to hopefully keep my intensity and make it through the challenge under my previous best time of 9:25. 

Instead of staring at the orange turning to red and my max percentage climbing oh-so-quickly to 100%, I tried to focus on each 1/10th of a mile as it ticked up. I tried to focus on my breathing—in through the nose, out through the mouth. I tried to tell my self calming and encouraging thoughts. 

And it worked, kinda, but I do think my heart rate reached that peak as I conquered my last tenth of a mile at an all-out speed. At least I didn’t feel that panic as much as I did as when I first began. It helped that I could see the finish line and I was pretty optimistic about beating my time, even if only by a handful of seconds.

Armed with the instructions of hitting the pause button as soon as we hit that mile, I was braced for the moment I got to stop running as I saw 0.95, 0.96, 0.97, 0.98. And then I messed up.

I hit that pause button a moment too early and landed on 0.99. Realizing my mistake immediately, I quickly hit start on the treadmill again to get that last 0.01, and just barely squeaked out a time of 9.23. Two seconds faster than my time last May.

Okay, so it’s still a win, but I surely wasted 3-5 seconds with my error. 

Of course, being in a reflective and learning mode this year, I gave myself some grace, laughed at my error, and gave a small celebration that I, in fact, did beat my time. But on the other side of it, I related this error to something I am guilty of in my goals: slowing down too early and not keeping up the sprint across the finish line.

I’m not sure why it’s so easy to let up on the gas when success is within reach. Perhaps it’s excitement and I celebrated too early. Maybe fear of what I’ll have to do the next time to raise my game. Maybe it’s the uncertainty of what’s on the other side.

I don’t know for sure, but I’m now in my head about figuring it out. One thing I do know, though, is that reaching that milestone is key. Whether it takes you longer than anticipated, you stumble along the way, or you hold steady throughout, there is achievement in each step. 

Just don’t stop before you actually get there.

For now, I am going to celebrate my PR (personal record), even though it was tiny. Because it shows baby steps, and those baby steps will get me to the finish line just the same as taking large strides. (Gee, I am suddenly reminded of the fable about the tortoise and the hare.) 

Maybe I won’t be as exhausted as I set forth on my next milestone by nipping away at things little by little. And maybe that means that I’ll get closer to my goal without burning out (and needing that nap along the way).

So, here’s to two seconds. Two seconds with a stumble, but also a recovery. That’s something of which I can be proud.