FEATURE STORY to my backpack : expectations , stress , and , especially , fear of failure . My pack no longer weighed twenty-five pounds but a ton , and I ran slowly and nervously . My mental narrative until then had been “ This is the most beautiful place I ’ ve ever seen .” Now , all I could hear myself say was “ Don ’ t mess up .”
I realized that my whole life had been lived with outcomes in mind — my own and my expectations for others . Today , I try to avoid having set expectations . I tell people that I can be counted on to give my best effort , and I ask the same from others . More often than not , whatever expectations one might have had will be met , and frequently they are exceeded .
10 . TRIGGER THE ACTIONS YOU WANT For our biggest challenges , sometimes wanting to see it through is not enough to will us forward . What can work is to create a trigger that reminds us to stay the course even during the most difficult moments . I associated all the positive feelings I could into this trip , including beauty , adventure , achievement , camaraderie , personal breakthrough , teamwork , health and spirituality .
Once I became energized by these optimistic feelings , I associated them with a physical symbol of my desert journey , and carried that reminder in my pants pocket at all times . I woke up with it , trained with it , worked with it , and ran the race with it .
When negative thoughts came knocking , just touching the reminder in my pocket would serve to dissipate my fear . I had created my own Pavlovian conditioned response to help get me through each day .
11 . CHOOSE YOUR REACTIONS Life hands us all unpredictable , difficult events . Often , it isn ’ t the event itself that triggers us to stop or quit ; rather , it is the meaning we attach to it . On our third day in the race , the course changed direction , leading runners from the bottom of a canyon up a steep escarpment in the opposite direction . Unbeknownst to us , a runner had moved the race flags and sent us in the wrong direction . When I reached the top of the escarpment and saw that there were no more flags , I didn ’ t understand what had happened and felt utterly lost . In effect , I got hijacked by my own reaction . Feeling victimized , I thought , “ Who would do this , and why ?”
My negative state of mind precipitated a negative spiral of events . On the way down the escarpment , I fell and was forced to stop , losing even more time as others ran by me . For 15 minutes , I actually quit the race . Eventually , I dusted myself off and finished .
Life hands us reasons to quit almost every day . Thankfully , if we can catch ourselves and consciously choose how we react , a more progressive path can reveal itself .
12 . DON ’ T DISRESPECT THE FINISH LINE I woke up on the last day of the Gobi having completed six marathons in five days and faced a measly 10-kilometer race to the finish . How hard could that be ? “ Done ,” I thought .
Instead of moving forward , I decided it was time to relax and celebrate . Near our camp was a beautiful , meandering river , and I couldn ’ t resist its siren call . I decided to go clean my gear that had been collecting dust for five days . The gear not being the only thing that had not washed in five days , I jumped in too .
I had checked out emotionally and , thirty minutes later , so did my body . I imploded . My nose started to bleed , my toes got infected , and my body started to shut down . It was as if the karmic universe had seen me in my moment of hubris . Only an aggressive cocktail of antibiotics allowed me to make it to the finish line . After running hard for 240 kilometers , I painfully walked the final ten , pulled by another racer for most of it . I finished almost last and lost precious positions in the overall rankings . In the desert , as in life , smelling a finish line is a euphoric experience , but one not to be mistaken with actually crossing the finish line .
13 . PLAN FOR WHAT ’ S NEXT After achieving success , it can trigger the type of “ Now what ?” reaction that can lead to complacency or even self-sabotage . If this is the case , it ’ s time to invent a new Gobi .
In completing our final race , with victory in the bag , I was overwhelmed with having reached my goal . I started reflecting on the four deserts and hundreds of hours of training that had led me up to that point . Almost simultaneously , my teammates and I all got a neural signal that went something like this : “ You ’ re done . You can stop competing now !”
It brought me back to our earlier experiences at the Gobi . Our pace had slowed down and our bodies had started to hurt near the end , even though there were still hours of running left . It was time to reframe the race , and invent a new purpose that would allow us to continue to give our best until the end .
As we were slowly overtaken by most of the field , we discussed what we should run the final leg of the race for . My friend shared that , with twenty-five countries represented in the Gobi , we were first among Canadian individuals by the narrowest of margins . As a point of pride , we agreed to run hard for that . Later , the team — all younger than me — noted that I was first amongst all individuals over the age of fifty . So they ran full force for another two hours to help me achieve that distinction . None of these incremental goals carried a medal , yet each gifted us a newfound energy to replace our aches and pains so we could continue with all cylinders firing until the very end .
In life , once we successfully reach a milestone , sometimes we need to redefine how to reach new highs . When our team crossed Antarctica in first place in 2014 , we knew one day we would have to return to the race that had gotten away from us : the Sahara . That time is now , and three years later , we are back in training . Sahara , here we come ! +
Toronto-based Stefan Danis is CEO of Mandrake Human Capital , which operates executive search , recruitment , coaching , and career transition businesses . His book Gobi Runner is available on Amazon . com . Stefan can be reached at danis @ mandrake . ca .
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