Defining 100%

Photo by Emma Simpson on Unsplash

I ran a 5K recently, and it was the first one I had run in a while. I have been very consistent with walking, but my running routine had gotten away from me and so I was not exactly sure what to expect when I showed up that morning. I knew I could finish, but I did not know what kind of pace I could hold. 

To my surprise, I was doing better than I expected. I settled into a steady rhythm, and even though it was hot and humid, I kept moving. When I rounded the corner and saw the finish line in the distance, it was probably about a quarter mile away, close enough to feel real but far enough that there was still work to do. That is usually the moment when something in me switches on. Any of you who are athletes, or grew up as athletes, probably know the feeling; you see the finish line and tell yourself to give it everything you have. Push harder. Pick up the pace. Leave it all out there. 

I told myself to give 100%. What I didn't realize was that I already was.

I tried to run faster, and there just was not another gear there. My mind was ready for the dramatic finish, but my body had a much more practical answer. This was the pace. This was the effort. This was what I had available that day. 

If you compared my pace in that race to what I might have run at another point in my life, it would be easy to say I was not giving 100%. On paper, I have run faster, finished stronger, and I have had days when a final sprint was possible. 

This day was different. This day, my 100% was shaped by the heat, the humidity, what I had eaten that morning, how much I had trained, how well I had slept, and the fact that I had not been running regularly for a while. We talk about giving 100% as if it is a fixed number; as if our best effort should look the same every day, in every season, under every condition. It does not. Some days our 100% looks like running a marathon while other days our 100% looks like getting out of bed, answering the email, taking the walk, making the appointment, or trying again after we have fallen out of the routine. 

Research on self-compassion and physical activity found that self-compassion may help physical activity by reducing psychological distress and increasing confidence in our ability to work through barriers. In other words, being honest and kind with ourselves does not make us weaker, it may actually help us keep going. 

Some days, your best will be impressive to everyone looking from the outside. Other days, your best will be invisible to everyone but you. It may not look like a personal record. It may not look like a sprint. It may not look like the version of success you had in your head. But it still counts. 

Stop asking, “Why can’t I do what I used to do?” and start asking, “What does 100% honestly look like for me today?” Then give that. Not someone else’s 100%. Not your old 100%. Not the version you wish you had available. Today’s. 

At the end of that 5K, I crossed the finish line without the big dramatic kick I have been able to give in the past; I just kept running at the pace I had already been running and for that day, in that weather, with that body, and that preparation, that was my 100% and I'm damn proud of it.