Failure in Success
/By Willow Belden, produced by Out There Podcast
Released On July 7, 2022
Welcome to Out There Podcast. Our stories are written for the ear, so for those able, we recommend listening while reading along. Transcripts may contain minor errors; please check the audio before quoting.
WILLOW BELDEN (tape): Alright, I am out for a bike ride, and I’m at a spot here where I can see three different mountain ranges. And I only know what one of them is. And I’m always curious what the other two are.
WILLOW (narration): Lucky for me, there’s an app called PeakVisor that can help.
PeakVisor is our sponsor for this episode. Their app tells you what mountains you’re looking at, wherever you are in the world. They also have intricate 3D maps, to help you plan out your adventures. And you can keep track of your accomplishments with their peak bagging feature.
If you’d like your own personal mountain guide, check out PeakVisor in the app store. You just might love it.
(Out There Theme music plays - guitar plucking chords, wistful whistling)
Hi, I’m Willow Belden, and you’re listening to Out There, the podcast that explores big questions through intimate stories outdoors.
As the world reopens, many of us are returning to the things we used to love. We’re traveling, we’re seeing loved ones, we’re going on adventures. And every adventure is better with a great soundtrack.
This summer, our season theme is Nature’s Nostalgia. Each episode, we’re fueling your adventures with award-winning narratives and beloved fan favorites from the early days of Out There.
Today’s story is about a mountain bike race. And about what happens when meeting your goals isn’t all you’d hoped. But before we get to that, I have a favor to ask.
(Theme music fades out)
If you enjoy listening to Out There, please take a moment and leave us a review on Apple Podcasts, or wherever you’re listening right now.
Your honest feedback is so important for helping new listeners find this show. And reaching new listeners is crucial for Out There to grow and thrive.
Thank you so much for your support.
And now, on to our story for today.
Every summer, there’s a crazy long mountain bike race near my home in Wyoming.
The race course has changed over the years, but back in the day, it was 70 miles — on trails and dirt roads — with almost 9,000 feet of elevation gain.
On a scale of one to epic, that’s pretty epic. And in fact, the race is now CALLED the Laramie Range Epic.
Back in 2015, I made the mistake of signing up. On today’s episode, I’m going to tell you the story of what happened. It’s a story about trying to prove yourself — about pushing limits— about testing what you’re capable of. And ultimately, it’s about how forcing yourself to succeed can end up being its own kind of failure.
The story first ran in 2015. And I should note that back then, the race had a different name; it was called the Laramie Enduro.
Oh, and — also — there’s some adult language in this episode.
(Guitar plays - melodic plucking, sliding)
WILLOW: The first time I heard about the Enduro, I was out for a drink with some friends, and there was this guy at our table who kept talking about a bike race. A really long, really hard mountain bike race.
(Music fades)
This guy described the race as a sufferfest. (That’s actually the term he used – “sufferfest”). But, in the same breath, he also said it was super fun, and that I should try it some day.
Now, I love cycling, but a “sufferfest” did NOT sound fun.
And yet, the place I live — Laramie, Wyoming — is aggressively outdoorsy. I’m surrounded by people who do epic things — whether it’s skiing, or biking, or climbing, or running. Herculean challenges are the norm around here.
CINDY DYWAN: If you’re a mountain biker in Laramie, you have to do the Enduro once. It’s an unstated rule. (laughs)
WILLOW: That’s Cynthia Dywan. She’s a mountain biker extraordinaire. She’s ridden the entire continental divide – all the way from Canada to Mexico — and she’s done the Enduro several times.
And what she said is kind of true. If you’re part of Laramie’s tight-knit, mountain biking community, it’s just expected that you’ll do the Enduro.
And so, this year, I caved.
I was nervous. But I told myself the race could be fun. After all, I enjoyed challenges —enjoyed seeing how far I could push myself. I’d done an Olympic-length triathlon, a half marathon on cross-country skis, even a 500-mile backpacking trip. Those were big athletic endeavors, and — yes — they were hard. But they were also some of the best things I’ve ever done for myself. They left me feeling exhilarated, and fulfilled, and ready to take life by the horns. They brought out the best in me.
And so, I told myself, the Enduro could be fun, too. At the very least, it would feel good to have done it.
So I signed up.
(Rhythmic, strumming guitar music begins)
Let’s be clear: I had no ambitions about WINNING. I simply wanted to FINISH. And yet, even that goal was a stretch. I was relatively new to mountain biking. The longest I’d ever ridden was 15 miles, and I wasn’t fast.
But I made a training plan for myself and resolved to spend every free moment on my bike.
To give you a sense of how that went — well, I’ll let you listen to some thoughts I recorded while I was out on training rides.
WILLOW (Tape): I am so tired. I, like just don’t want to keep going.
This ride kicked my ass. (sighs) And my back hurts and my knee hurts, and I am just stiff and sore and tired and hungry, and … exhausted. (sighs)
Holy fuck. (sighs)
WILLOW (narration): Ok, you get the picture.
(Guitar fades out)
It felt like as hard as I pushed myself, it was never enough. I was biking five days a week, and one of those days was always a really long ride – something that lasted hours, or even all day. And yet, I kept falling short of my mileage goals. Even when I did ride enough miles, it was painfully slow, and exhausting. I began to wonder if I could actually pull this off. Riding 70 miles on my mountain bike was starting to seem impossible. Maybe I just wasn’t cut out for this.
(Dreamy, tonal music begins)
That sense of inadequacy was toxic.
I used to love riding my bike. It was what I did to unwind. But now, it had become a chore — an item on my to-do list — something I resented. Training for this race had sucked the joy out of my passion. And worst of all, it was keeping me from doing other things I wanted to do — things like hiking, and kayaking. I canceled plans with friends, and told my family I couldn’t join them for a vacation. All I had time for was riding my bike.
It. Was. Miserable. And yet, with steely determination, I stuck to the schedule.
(Music swells)
One day in June, when I was feeling particularly low, a friend of mine suggested that I quit.
“Just don’t do the Enduro,” she said. “Just because you signed up, doesn’t mean you have to do it.”
(Music fades out)
Giving up had never occurred to me. But now that someone else suggested it, it suddenly seemed like a viable option. A GOOD option. And so, I stopped training. It was such a relief.
But then this nagging sense of failure started creeping into my thoughts. I don’t like being a quitter. In fact, I pride myself on finishing the things I start. Backing out on the Enduro felt like defeat. I needed to prove that I could do it — that I could accomplish this goal I’d set for myself. I wanted to show that I had just as much mettle as all my hardcore mountain biking friends.
And so, I decided to give it another go.
A few weeks before the race, I got some advice from friends who had done the Enduro before. One of them was Cynthia Dywan, who you heard earlier. The other was my friend Evan O’Toole. They’re both excellent cyclists, and they tried their best to cheer me up.
EVAN O’TOOLE: I would say, barring a mechanical failure, I bet you’ll finish.
CINDY: I think that you have tenacity and mental strength to, to make it to the end.
WILLOW: And yet, their encouragement wasn’t altogether encouraging.
EVAN: Like, it’s gonna be terrible for certain parts. You’re gonna go through certain parts of the day and just be mad, and just think, ‘This is so stupid; why am I doing this?’
WILLOW: And in fact, Evan told me, the race is so hard that it brings him to tears. Literally — he starts crying two-thirds of the way through the race, when he sees his wife cheering him on.
EVAN: It’s so like, mentally, and psychologically draining, I think, that just to see her — and I’m just like, ‘Oh I feel so bad, and there she is, and I love her so much.’ Uh, you can’t help it.
WILLOW: You might have heard Evan’s toddler making noise in the background there. We asked for her input as well.
(Laughter)
EVAN: Can you tell Willow what you think about the Enduro?
BEATRICE O’TOOLE: Waaaah. (Child whining)
(Melodic guitar and piano music swells, then fades…)
(Crowd noises, people talking)
WILLOW: Fast forward to race morning.Hundreds of cyclists are gathered in a gravel parking area. Most of them are wearing fancy skin-tight bike clothes, with ads from their sponsors. Many of them have ridiculously high-end bikes. All of them, I’m sure, are stronger riders than I am.
I shiver, from the morning chill, and — if I’m being honest — from dread.
LOUDSPEAKER: Five, four, three, two, one.
(Cheering, clapping, whistling)
WILLOW: OK, so the first part of the race was actually pretty good. A few miles in, I started to feel a sense of exhilaration. ‘I’m doing the Enduro! I thought to myself. ‘I’m really doing it!’ It felt SO BADASS.
When I rolled into the first aid station — where you can get food and water — two of my friends were there, cheering.
(Clapping and cheering)
FRIEND’S VOICE: Woo! Look at that smile!
SECOND FRIEND’S VOICE: How you doing?
WILLOW: Good! (panting)
FIRST FRIEND’S VOICE: Do you need some water? What do you need?
SECOND FRIEND’S VOICE: Also, Because I’m a mom, I brought you applesauce, in case nothing here looked good.
WILLOW: Woah, it’s baby applesauce.
SECOND FRIEND’S VOICE: Toddler.
WILLOW: I got toddler applesauce! How do you eat this?
SECOND FRIEND’S VOICE: Suck on it. (laughter) Please put that in your episode. (friends laughing together)
(Inspirational music plays, ends. Sounds of bicycling begin — chain clicking, wheels rolling on gravel)
WILLOW (tape): : I feel like I’m on top of the world right now. I am going to take this race by storm. Oh yeah!
WILLOW (narration): Ok, so the course does get harder. I end up having to plough my way through murky swamps, and slog up steep hills. In true Wyoming style, there are cattle grazing all over the course, and cow poop splashes up onto my Gatorade bottle. My bike starts making weird noises. My legs get tired.
WILLOW (tape): But this isn’t as bad as I was imagining.
WILLOW (narration): When I rolled into the fourth aid station, more friends were there to cheer me on.
(Cheering, clapping)
Someone told me I’d done 52 miles at this point.
WILLOW (tape): Fifty two. Fifty two! I’ve never ridden 52 miles on my mountain bike.
FRIEND’S VOICE: And you did it, and you’re smiling, and you’re only a little covered in cow poop. (Willow laughing) You are so close! You’re almost done.
WILLOW (tape): No no, but it’s like, all uphill from here. And it’s uphill on reallydifficult trails.
WILLOW (narration): Still, they remind me, I only have 18 miles left to go.
SECOND FRIEND’S VOICE: Eighteen! I could do 18. (group laughter). Not after doing 52.
WILLOW (narration): So, at this point, I’m pretty confident I’ll finish.
But then, the route gets steeper. It winds through gnarly hills of sagebrush, past red granite cliffs. I skid over sharp rocks, and my tires spin in the loose pebbles as I fight my way up punishingly steep climbs. Every few minutes, I have to get off my bike and push it.
The weather isn’t helping. This is the high desert, and the trail is completely exposed to the screaming August sun. Heat seems to radiate from every direction.
My head starts to hurt. Badly. I’ve been drinking a lot of water and Gatorade, but I still feel dehydrated. Nauseous even.
WILLOW (tape): Oh my gosh. (panting, footsteps, bicycle clicking) I’ve been biking for more than 8 hours. (panting) That’s pretty fucked up. (panting)
WILLOW (narration): And then, I look at my watch. It’s 3:34 p.m. The next and final aid station closes in less than an hour. If I don’t get there before then, they won’t let me finish the race.
All of a sudden, a huge wave of anger wells up inside me. I CAN’T miss this cutoff. Not after I’ve come this close. And so I muster all the energy I no longer have, and push myself to go faster.
I make it to the aid station four minutes before the cutoff. I’m too nauseous to eat anything, and I barely manage to gulp down some Gatorade. The aid station volunteers tell me I have 15 seconds to leave, if I want to keep going with the race.
I start riding again.
As I walk my bike up the last brutal hill, I can barely feel my legs. My left butt cheek feels like it’s covered in blisters.
My head is pounding, and I’m dazed and confused. This is a trail that I’ve biked many times before, but somehow it doesn’t look familiar. I wonder, fleetingly, whether I’m starting to hallucinate.
WILLOW (tape): I think I am past the point of being tired. And when you get past the point of being tired, you become a zombie, I think. That’s how it works right?
WILLOW (narration): There are only a few other stragglers left on the course now. We’re all exhausted. We’re all suffering. And yet, we all have a grim determination to finish.
Finally, I reach the home stretch: A beautiful long downhill. I glide down it exuberantly. And when I cross the finish line, I’m grinning from ear to ear.
(Cheering)
WILLOW (tape): Thank you.
EVAN: I saved you a beer.
WILLOW: Aw, thank you.
UN-NAMED VOICE: Willow Belden, congratulations.
(Willow panting)
WILLOW: Cheers! Oh man, this beer is amazing.
EVAN: So are you mad? How do you feel?
WILLOW: (Panting) Dazed. But I’m done. Now I’ve done it, now I don’t have to do it ever again. (laughter)
(Music, guitar strumming, drum beat. Fades...)
A few days after the Enduro, a colleague of mine asked how it went. I told him I finished. He congratulated me. And then, he asked whether it was fulfilling.
It was a good question. No, I realized. It was NOT fulfilling.
I was RELIEVED that the race was done. But I wasn’t exhilarated by the experience. I didn’t feel like I’d done something wonderful. I just felt tired, and drained.
At first, that made no sense to me. I’d met my goal — accomplished something big. So why the gloom?
But in hindsight, I realized what was going on. The problem was, I was doing the Enduro for all the wrong reasons.
I was doing it to fit in — to be part of the club. I wanted to be that girl who’s game for everything — wanted to maintain my identity as adventurous, and strong, and capable — wanted to succeed at the things my peers succeeded at. And so, I was pushing myself to my limits, over and over. I was doing this race to meet the expectations of my tribe.
We’ve all done this before: taken a job because our parents wanted us to, or gone to grad school because it sounds good at all the family parties.
We want to fit in, and so we do things that we think will make people respect us, and see us the way we want to be seen. A lot of times, that doesn’t feel so good.
And, so, after the Enduro — even though friends and family congratulated me profusely — I felt hollow. Felt like I’d wasted a precious summer on something I didn’t really want.
(Music, calm guitar)
Since the race, several friends have suggested that I do it again. “No,” I’ve told them. “Once is enough.”
They tell me I’ll change my mind — that I’ll start wondering how much faster I could do it the next time.
And they’re right: I do wonder.
But I’ve learned an important lesson. Succeeding at something doesn’t make it worth doing. Just because you can do it, doesn’t mean you should. And so, if I do the Enduro again — or any other difficult endeavor — I’ll be doing it for different reasons. From now on, I won’t take on athletic challenges just to prove that I’m not a wuss. From now on, I’ll be doing things because I WANT to do them. Because they’re exciting and invigorating. Because my heart is in them. I’ll be doing them for me.
(Music, calming guitar)
That story first aired in 2015. And it won a national award. It took second place for best independent podcast in the annual Public Radio News Directors Incorporated — or PRNDI — awards.
(Music fades)
If you enjoyed this story, please leave us a review on Apple Podcasts, or wherever you’re listening right now. Seriously — pause the episode and just do it right now. We’re always eager for new listeners, and your recommendation is our best form of advertising.
(Sound of waves crashing)
Coming up next time on Out There, we’re going to take a trip to the Galapagos…
(Sound of bubbles underwater)
TIFFANY DUONG: Excitement and wonder had replaced all my fear. This isn't scary, this is amazing. Bring on the whale sharks!
WILLOW: It’s a story about diving — and about letting go of a life that isn’t for you. Tune in on July 28.
(Ocean sounds end; sound of wind blowing begins)
WILLOW (tape): Alright, so I’ve opened up PeakVisor. It’s thinking.
WILLOW (narration): PeakVisor is our sponsor for this episode. When you open up their app, it figures out where you are, and then it shows you a panoramic image of what you’re seeing, with all the peaks labeled.
WILLOW (tape): Oh wow, ok. So, I am looking all the way down into Rocky Mountain National Park. Like, I can see Long’s Peak from here. That’s pretty cool.
(wind sounds end)
WILLOW (narration): PeakVisor has info on more than a million summits all over the world. Plus, they have detailed 3D maps to help you with your planning. And they have a peak bagging feature that lets you keep track of your accomplishments. Check out PeakVisor in the app store. You just might love it.
(Out There Theme music plays)
Today’s story was written and sound designed by me, Willow Belden. Story editing by Leigh Paterson. Leigh also helped out with recording and support on race day, along with Emily Guseman, Annie Wislowski, Erin Jones, Nanette Nelson, Koreen Zelasko, Case Button, and Caroline Ballard.
Out There’s advertising manager is Jessica Taylor. Our audience growth director is Sheeba Joseph. Our ambassadors are Tiffany Duong, Ashley White, and Stacia Bennet. And our theme music was written by Jared Arnold.
Have a beautiful day, and we’ll see you in three weeks.
(Theme music swells, then ends)
