The Uncontrollable Outcome: My Time with the Blerch

There are few things more humbling than an endurance race. You train for months, you meticulously plan your nutrition, and you spend hours agonizing over the perfect playlist. You control every variable you can, hoping to create a predictable outcome.

Then, race day arrives, and the universe reminds you who's really in charge.

Over the weekend, I got a big reminder of this lesson at the Beat the Blerch marathon in the beautiful Snoqualmie River Valley. For those who aren't familiar, a "Blerch" is a cartoon personification of all your lazy, self-doubting thoughts. It's the little voice that tells you to slow down, eat another donut, or just quit.

Leading up to the race, I did everything "right." I trained, I rested (mostly, anyway—I was still recovering from another long race the weekend before), and I showed up ready to go. I had a specific goal in mind: beat my previous time on this course. I had the process dialed in, or so I thought.

A few minutes before start time, I was convinced I had left my headphones in my car. I spent the next few hours mentally kicking myself for the mistake, resigning myself to a silent, meditative run. It wasn't until after the race, that I found that my headphones were dangling around my neck the whole time.

Even when we think we have the process locked down, there are always variables we can't see, variables we can't control, or things that we forget.

This happens all the time, not just in running. We launch a new product, we put together the perfect pitch deck, or we execute a flawless marketing campaign. We control the process to the best of our ability. We can build the best product, hire the most talented team, and develop the most innovative strategy.

But we can't control the market. We can't control how a competitor will react, what the economy will do, or whether a key team member will be out with the flu. We can't control if our target audience will even care.

Spoiler alert: I didn't beat my previous time in the race. Not even close. My body wasn't fully recovered, the trail was tougher than I remembered, and the Blerch got the best of me on a few hills. The outcome wasn't what I had hoped for.

But the process? The process was great. I got to spend a Saturday doing what I love, surrounded by incredible people in a place I'm lucky to call home. I learned a little more about my own limits and the importance of grace when things don't go as planned.

The lesson here is simple: do your best to control the process, and then let go of the outcome. You can’t force a win, but you can always show up prepared and give it your all. Sometimes the greatest reward isn’t the finish line, it’s the humbling reminder that we can’t control everything, no matter how hard we try.