Is It Even Worth the Risk?

I woke up at 5:15 yesterday morning ready to run the Minneapolis Half Marathon. The start time was delayed from 6:30 am to 7:30 am due to weather, so my friends and I sat at Starbucks for awhile waiting. Eventually we made our way to the start line. By 7:30, there still hadn't been an official "call" on the race, but everyone was lining up and ready to run. Finally around 7:45 there was a murmur in the crowd, as people started to hear that the race had been canceled because of potential thunderstorms in the area. Thousands of disappointed runners went back to their cars, most extremely frustrated.

 I'd been training for about 10 weeks for this race, but I was only running the half marathon (I've run several before). So, although it was frustrating to have sacrificed some time, and a little money, and a few hours of sleep for a race that didn't occur, I wasn't too upset because I didn't have much skin in the game.

But on our way back to the parking lot, we met a woman named Erin who had planned to run her first full marathon. She'd been diligently preparing for yesterday's race for the past 4 months. Having trained for, and completed, a marathon myself in 2011, I know the sacrifice that goes into this pursuit: missing many Friday night activities in order to get in a (sometimes very) long run on Saturday mornings, being incredibly tired on Saturday afternoons after 3-4 hours of running, almost completely eliminating alcohol for the duration of training season, spending hundreds of dollars in running gear and supplies. In addition to all of that, this woman also told us she is going to be adopting a baby next month, so this was her one shot to train to this extent without the responsibility of parenthood. She'd worked so hard for the chance to run this marathon - an accomplishment that is so incredibly valuable and amazing and indescribable - and she lost the opportunity because of something completely out of her control. Although she was visibly disheartened, she was able to remain positive.

Here's the thing: disappointments happen. All the time. And the more a person has invested in something, the worse it feels when it doesn't pan out. In the face of disappointment, is it easy to ask: Was this even worth the risk of taking on a challenge?

Almost everything that has a high potential for reward comes with great risk. Registering for a marathon. Starting a business. Taking a new job opportunity. Having a child. Getting married. All of these things could result in disappointment, failure, or even tragedy. Does that mean we shouldn't do them? I don't think so. We are far more likely to regret not trying, than we are to regret trying -- even if we fail. Plus, if we DO succeed, the benefits are great. I have yet to experience anything else that comes close to the feeling of crossing a marathon finish line.

But even if disappointment or failure does occur when we take a risk, the benefits are still great. For Erin, the runner of the marathon-that-never-happened, her training undoubtedly allowed her to get into the best physical and emotional shape of her life - distance running is super good for physical AND mental health! She also proved to herself that she is resilient, dedicated, and tenacious.

The importance of taking risks doesn't only apply to big things like marathons and jobs and marriages: It's also a good way to live in the day-to-day scenarios. My friends and I coined the phrase "whakkapah" last summer. It stands for "What could possibly go wrong?", and is generally used to jokingly call out a potentially questionable decision. For example: "Sure, let's go skinny dipping at 4 am - whakkapah?", or "Okay, we'll spontaneously dress ourselves in all black and attend Goth Prom on a Monday night - whakkapah?" The real meaning behind the phrase, though, is that we want to fully experience, to get out and do things, despite the potential for things to "kapah". Usually, there is a silver lining even when things don't go according to plan, or result in a lack of sleep, or a sun burn, or a hangover. At the very least: they make a good story. I want to embrace all of the whakkapah moments, because they make my life so much more fun.

 Despite her best training efforts, Erin didn't cross the marathon finish line yesterday. That doesn't mean her endeavor to do so was unrewarded. And it doesn't mean she shouldn't try again. All of us, at one point in our lives, have been and/or will be in Erin's shoes. We'll try something and it won't work right, or we will experience an impediment to our success, or something tragic might even happen as a result of our risk. If we're wise, we'll do the only thing we can do: try again.