"Everyone else is. . ."

One of the topics that I cover in depth in my book is making comparisons to other people. Little good

comes of comparing yourself to other people, and yet, it's part of human nature to do so. We all want to know how we stack up, and we tend to use other people to gage our own successes. With the rise of social media over the past 10 years, it's almost impossible to avoid these comparisons. There have been many articles written about how Facebook can cause depression-- when everyone else seems to have things that you don't.

When it comes to running, falling into the comparison trap is all too easy. We talk about our paces, the length of our runs, how many miles we trained, etc. There are so many numbers and data points that comparison just feels natural. If you're a perfectionist, then you'll likely look to find fault with your own running (potentially without realizing it) and noticing how someone else raced or trained compared to you just feeds into this counterproductive mindset.

It's difficult to not make these comparisons, especially if you are active on social media and have friends who run. My best advice for not doing it is to simply realize that focusing on other people will not help you with your own running. It could actually hurt your running if it results in you feeling like you have to run as fast as someone else. Then, you'll be putting additional pressure on yourself, which is not conducive to a strong performance. The best way to be successful is to simply focus on yourself and your own progress, independent of what others are doing.

Why am I talking about this now? At the Army Ten-miler last weekend, where I went to cheer on Greg and my friends, I found it difficult to not fall into the comparison trap: "Everyone else is running fast times and I can't even run 10 miles right now." When I registered for this race last spring, my goal was to run it at a sub-7:00 pace. But if you've been following this blog, you know that I spent the entire summer being sick and unable to train. Everyone who I went out to cheer for ran really well, and Greg broke 70 minutes with an average pace of 6:58. 

I had a great spectating spot to snap a photo of Greg.

My focus for the entire day was supporting Greg and my friends, but as the day progressed, I started to feel a sense of loss. I was perfectly fine the day before the race when we picked up Greg's packet, and even during the race when I was watching all the runners go by. But once the race was over and everyone started talking about their races, I felt a little sad. I didn't want to rain on anyone's parade so I did a good job of ignoring my feelings and focusing on being there for my friends. And yet, I still had a nagging feeling that I had missed out.

Later that evening, after all the celebrations were done, I started to reflect on my feelings. I was sad. It was hard to see everyone else have a great race when I was unable to run, and wouldn't be able to run the Army Ten-miler for another year. I then began to judge myself for falling into the comparison trap. For allowing other people's accomplishments to diminish my own. After all, I was recovering well, feeling healthy, and I had just run five miles the day before. So why was I back to my old ways of comparing myself to other people?

But then I realized something. I actually had not fallen into the comparison trap. Even though watching other people run this race really well (especially Greg, who ran the time that I had hoped to run) made me feel sad about my situation, I wasn't really comparing myself to them. Instead, I felt lonely. Lonely because everyone else was talking about their races, and I didn't have a story to share. Lonely because everyone else was talking about the upcoming Indianapolis marathon, which I wouldn't be running. Lonely because I was surrounded by my running friends and my husband, but not having a shared experience.

Countless runners have reached out to me to thank me for writing my book. Often, they tell me that they felt like they were reading their own story, and it was good to know that someone else out there experienced the same thing. It seems that readers are connecting with the book on an emotional level because it makes them feel less "lonely" for having feeling of disappointment, loss, injustice, and a slew of other negative emotions. They've thanked me for being so open and honest about my feelings. In a world dominated by social media where people typically only talk about their successes, it can feel lonely if you perceive yourself to be the only person who didn't set a PR or who didn't have a good race.

If you're trying to work on your mental toughness by steering yourself away from making comparisons to other people, then it's good to be aware of this loneliness component. You can be doing a great job of not comparing yourself to other people while still feeling disappointed, sad, or lonely about your own situation. It's important to separate the two. In my case, I have to be realistic in knowing that I am going to be a little sad about missing out on these fall races. It's harder to ignore those feelings when I'm actually attending the races and supporting my friends and my husband. But, overall, I'm in a great spot mentally and I am truly happy to see other people succeed. Especially Greg, who I have been coaching. The goal with mental toughness isn't to never feel sad or upset. The goal is to not dwell on those feelings and have them interfere with your overall state of being.

So when you feel like everyone else is. . . then, ask yourself if you are comparing yourself and your worth to those people (the comparison trap) or if you are lonely because you feel like you are the only one who feels a certain way. If you are lonely, then remember that you're actually not alone and that many other runners get down about their running from time to time. They just don't post about it on Facebook, usually, or even talk about it.

Believing in My Book, My Message, and Myself

In spite of all the struggles and mental barriers that I had to overcome to qualify for Boston, I never gave up. Even when others told me that maybe the marathon wasn't my thing, I still kept trying. I held this same attitude about my book.

As I was finishing my book last winter, I did quite a bit of research on how to get it published. I decided that I would first send it to agents and publishers and try to get a publishing contract. This would mean handing them the manuscript and letting them format it, design the book cover, edit it, and market it, leaving me with a very small percentage of the royalties. It was the most traditional route and I thought it would result in maximum exposure for my book. However, I knew that agents and publishers received thousands of book submissions each month and could only accept a small number of them, so I was prepared for rejection.

I sent my book pitch to about 25 agents and 3 publishers. Of all of these, there was one particular agent and one particular publisher who I thought were really great fits for the book. I decided to wait until I had received feedback from the other agents and publishers before sending to these last two, so that I could incorporate any feedback I received. I wanted to make sure I was putting my best possible foot forward when I reached out to these two organizations.

It wasn't long before the publisher and the agent replied back with rejection letters. The publisher was rather vague, saying that the book did not fit into their lineup. The agent, however, sent me a very detailed response. The agent had run the Boston marathon herself (which is why I thought she would be a great fit) and based on her feedback, I realized that if I wanted the book to be published, I would have to do it myself.

So I published the book myself, not really knowing what to expect. After all, what was the worst that could happen? Well, maybe nobody would buy the book and I would lose the money I spent on getting the book cover designed. Oh well, at least I could say I published a book! And the best case scenario would be that people would buy the book and they would find it helpful in their own journey. I had no idea if the book was objectively good since the only people who reviewed it were friends and family. But as I said, what did I have to lose? The book was already written.

So I put it out there on May 15th.  And the feedback I've gotten from readers totally goes against the feedback I received from the agent.

"I'm afraid this is not something I could successfully represent. I think pretty much any even mildly competitive runner is aware of the negative role that over-stressing can play in their racing. So I'm not sure there's enough of a take-away in your personal story."

Many readers have expressed that they "took away" a great deal from this book:

"When an acquiring editor is evaluating a project s/he looks to see what the story/message boils down to and whether s/he feels this will sustain the reader's interest for 300 pages. . .  a project really needs to have a stand out hook and be something that just keeps the reader glued in their seat because they can't stop turning the pages."

I agreed with the agent on this point-- I did not think Boston Bound was a "page turner."  I did not expect readers to be glued in their seats. After all, self-help books are not supposed to be page-turners-- people read them because they want to get something out of it. Much to my surprise, countless readers have said that they could not put the book down.

"As more and more people get into running, there are more and more running book projects circulating and editors have become incredibly picky. They are all looking for the next "Born to Run". Elite runners can usually get a deal. But nothing much else impresses them."

This made no sense to me. If there are already so many books out there about running, written by elite athletes, wouldn't a book written by a non-elite be a refreshing change? Can everyday runners and readers relate to olympic athletes? I think that part of what makes a book good is the ability for the reader to relate to the main character or narrator.

I've also received numerous messages on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and even LinkedIn from readers telling me that the book helped them, they couldn't put it down, and/or that they found it relatable because it wasn't written by an elite runner.

Lesson learned, if you truly believe in something, make it happen. I honestly wasn't sure if the book would be a success or not, but I figured I had nothing to lose.

Book sales have already exceeded what I ever thought possible, and it seems to have a life of its own. Initially, it was up to me alone to get the word out. But now it seems like people are hearing about the book from all sorts of channels! I will likely blog more about the book in the future and my "journey" in getting it on the best-seller's list for the "Running and Jogging" category!