Overcoming Setbacks and Trying Again

Reflecting on a difficult summer of run training and the sweater project I keep unraveling.

Running on Sentences celebrates all parts of life, from the times when we crush our goals to when we face setbacks and have to just get back out there. Join this journey.

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I’ve had a summer of setbacks. From getting stung by fire ants to record-high temperatures, being sick for a week to injuring myself due to my own clumsiness, I’ve had to overcome numerous obstacles to keep going. I’ve written before about how, when things are difficult, my first instinct is to just give up. When problems crop up one after the other, I tend to believe that the universe is trying to tell me something. Like, it wants me to slow down or stop or think about doing anything else.

I’ve found, though, that despite what the universe tells me, the internal drive I’ve built to finish what I’ve started prevails. I’ve never found it particularly easy to keep going when things aren’t working out for me. There have been several knitting projects I’ve abandoned because after messing up the third time I didn’t have the will to try again. Instead, I chose something easier or pushed forth with several mistakes, not bothering to fix them, and then being dissatisfied with the finished product. I have both a vest and a sweater in my closet waiting to be unraveled.

Despite the setbacks, I completed my ten mile run. This was my fastest-ever 10 mile run! Even a couple of weeks later, I’m not sure how I did it.

In the past few months, especially, I’m learning that instead of listening to the mighty powers that be, I should instead choose to listen to myself. I’m currently working on another knitted sweater and have already unraveled it three times. I’m going to start again—without frustration and an open mind. I have a plan to adjust the pattern and write it out in a way that makes it easy for me to keep track of where I’m at, implement lifelines and more stitch markers, and take my time on each row so I can trust that what I’m doing will create a warm, cozy pullover for the colder months.

Instead of seeing the setback as a sign I’m not cut out for knitting this particular pattern, it’s a sign I just have some learning to do.

Running has been similar lately. After every four or five days out because of a new problem, I look at my training schedule and choose to keep going. I’ve asked my coach to modify workouts here and there, but most days I start the workout as scheduled, knowing I can always stop if I need to. Sometimes I do stop. Or I slow down. Or I walk. Other times, I hit the pavement knowing I’ll just try my best to do the run planned for me, thinking I’ll likely not finish, and end up crushing it instead. The workouts where I start with self-doubt only to look at my stats afterward and realize how well I did are the best.

These granny squares are part of a crochet project I’m working on but had to put on pause after getting stitches in my left pointer finger, preventing me from crocheting for a couple of weeks.

As we transition from summer into fall (my favorite season), I am considering the importance of the space between seasons. All summer, I’ve dealt with things that could have—for a past me—completely derailed my training, leading me to stop for weeks or months. This is not to say that this doesn’t still happen (my weight loss goals and tracking have fallen to the wayside amidst all this), but it is to say that I’m recognizing the part of me who commits to things, who allows myself fail and try again, and who no longer sees one setback as abject failure.

I put a lot of pressure on myself to be productive and get things done. I am always working on several projects, materials and ideas forming both physical and mental piles. Some projects get left to the wayside. Sometimes I don’t feel “disciplined” enough and admonish myself for not writing everyday, because if writing a novel is important to me, I’d focus on it right?

Enjoying the reward of my hard work by tabling at zine fest where I met lots of cool people and had great conversations about my writing.

But, putting this pressure on myself takes the joy out of the process. Pressuring myself to run through illness or injury will just lead to an all around bad time. Allowing myself to breathe, to seek out opportunities for new things, and to re-align myself with my goals—without the pressure of production—makes a huge difference.

I don’t knit to sell clothes. I knit because I like to knit. I like to do something with my hands and I like that, in the end, I’ll have something to show for it. Rushing through a project just to finish and end up with a sub-par garment doesn’t benefit me. So I have to keep trying, even if that means unraveling the sweater one more time.