Most endurance athletes I’ve met are incredibly supportive. We share a bond forged through early mornings, long training hours, and the quiet understanding of what it takes to push our limits. But every so often, you meet someone who missed the memo on camaraderie.
I had one of those encounters recently. My husband and I were at a welcome back dinner at a Sandals resort in Barbados, seated with a group of people we didn’t know. To my right, we were chatting with a lovely couple from Iowa. To my left, I overheard a woman mention running. My ears perked up.
I turned and asked if she was a runner. “Yes, a marathon runner,” she replied, immediately adding that her pace was 3:15. I hadn’t asked for her time, but she offered it as if it were a business card. She explained that her new focus was triathlon—specifically, Ironman.
“What was your time for a full Ironman?” she asked, her gaze fixed on me.
I told her I hadn’t done one, but that I’ve completed half-distance aquabikes. “Which ones have you done?” she pressed. When I mentioned they were local races, she launched into a detailed account of her own Ironman time. The interrogation continued. “What’s your Olympic triathlon time?”
I didn’t answer directly. Instead, I tried to explain my philosophy. “Time doesn’t matter that much to me,” I said. “I’m out there to have fun and do the best I can do on any given day. I’m slow, but I’m having a good time, and that’s what matters to me.”
The look she gave me was a mix of pity and superiority. It was a clear, unspoken judgment that if you’re not fast, you’re not a real athlete. Even when I mentioned swimming 8.2 miles around Mackinac Island, she looked unimpressed, as if it were just a leisurely dip in a lake.
A Moment of Reflection
The entire conversation left a sour taste in my mouth. I felt small, frustrated, and honestly, a little angry. I walked out of the room, and my husband, who had witnessed the whole exchange, said something that stopped me in my tracks. “Why do you care about what that woman thinks? We’ve met so many nice people here. Why not focus on them?”
He was right. Why was I letting one negative interaction overshadow all the positive ones? Why do we so often let one critical voice drown out a chorus of supportive ones? We are all amazing in our own ways, accomplishing things that are uniquely ours. It was a powerful reminder to shift my focus.
Focusing on the Positive
The next morning, I went for a run around the beautiful resort grounds. Sweaty and feeling great, I stopped for a post-run coffee. A man nearby asked if I had just run. (I thought, how could he possibly tell? It must have been the glow, not the gallon of sweat dripping from my face.)
We started chatting. He was from the UK and had run the London Marathon. I told him how that race was on my bucket list, and we had a wonderful conversation, connecting over our shared love for the sport. There was no talk of pace, no one-upmanship—just pure, simple connection.
As I walked away, coffee in hand, I smiled. My husband’s words from the night before echoed in my mind. The world is full of kind, interesting, and supportive people. That man was proof. The experience solidified my new resolve: to celebrate my own journey, honor my own achievements, and surround myself with those who lift me up. Life is too short to waste energy on people who think a race is only worth running if you’re the fastest one there. I’ll take joy over judgment any day.
