I joined a swim team in third grade, the Schofield Barracks Sharks, while my dad was stationed in Hawaii. I most often swam freestyle quite successfully at all my swim meets, with the exception that I refused to dive off the platform. I would either jump or belly flop into the pool, regain my form and then swim to victory, despite my rather peculiar and ineffective start. My non-existent diving skill was certainly not due to lack of effort on my coach's part as he would even keep me after normal practice time and force me to endure numerous drills and exercises designed to assist me in this task. I would dutifully plunge into the pool time and time again -- belly first, butt first, or any rendition I could think of, except for what he actually asked me to do. In short, I was stubborn and afraid, but more importantly, I argued that my goal was never to learn to dive -- it was to win the race. And I WAS winning. So why bother with this tedious diving maneuver?

     Once we moved back to Georgia three years later, I still never learned to dive and never competed in swimming again. No doubt, if I had, I would certainly have lost many races once the competition truly required at least a decent dive to stay with the pack. However, I had reached my goals in those three years without ever attempting that daring head-first entry. Some would say I was a failure due to not mastering all swim team requirements (I also never did and still never have learned the butterfly stroke), but I have always regarding those years as a booming success.

Today, that memory is remarkably similar to my current running philosophy. While my many runner friends endlessly tout the necessity of fartleks, tempo runs, hill repeats, "long run" days and the like -- I argue that those drills are only important if your goal is to cover more ground in shorter time. This seems to be the most common and accepted goal in the running community. However, this is not MY goal. Today, my only goals are purely to move my body, remain healthy and relieve the stress of everyday life. By that definition, I am a tremendous success. Nevertheless, this philosophy drives my husband truly nuts since he insists that if I don't get my altitude training in and worship the Garmin, I will never return to my glory days of running or perform well on the Pikes Peak Ascent. Nor will I ever "make it to Boston" -- GASP!

The problem with this logic is that my goal is no longer to win races or run fast enough to earn entry into another, harder race. (I've always found that a bit odd.) Although I loved the days when I could head out, cruise up the hills and stay with at least the front half of the pack, I've found my glory and fulfillment these days in the act of running itself. Having spent years obsessing about my training, nutrition and performance, I choose to no longer expend the mental or physical energy on those elements and have settled into a comfort zone that only requires running shoes and an open mind.

I do still love to challenge myself, which is why I am eagerly looking forward to the Triple Crown of Running series. I've always admired the lead runners of those races and love watching their incredible form and determination. I am acutely aware of the intense training it takes to reach goals such as theirs and they deserve tremendous respect for their success. However, my goals are simply to complete the courses with no real hard times to achieve and certainly no regrets at the end. I want to end feeling healthy, happy and surrounded by friends. Am I aware of the clock? Absolutely. Do I pat myself on the back on the days when I surprise myself with a faster time? OF COURSE. However, you won't find me intensely "training" for any race, unless you count the mere fact that I lace up my shoes and head out on a run as often as I can, for as short or long as I care to go that day. I am extremely whimsical, not tied to a plan, nor do I practice any drills or exercises designed to increase my speed. If it happens, it happens. If it doesn't, that's okay too.

Some people simply call me stubborn and there is another long line of witnesses to support that claim (to include a former swim team coach in Hawaii). However, I like to think that I always remain focused on the goals that I set for myself - never those implied or expected by others. In the end, it is how I feel in my heart that defines my success.

I adore the running community and I love the spunk and dedication I see in my running friends. I believe that exercise is a key component of happiness. So as far as I'm concerned, no matter what that clock says, as long as I finish healthy and among my friends, I will be a success -- even if I still can't dive!