The Beauty of a Goal

Europe is melting again- not just in temperature, but in mood. Cities empty, out-of-offices bloom like wildflowers, and my countrymen and women are using beach towels to colonize every square meter of coastline from Barcelona to the Baltic. It's peak vacation season. The time when most people hit pause- and many endurance athletes start shifting gears toward the second half of the season.

You're either tapering, peaking, or pretending you're not behind schedule. Some are in prime shape, others nursing quiet injuries, many caught somewhere between the calm of midseason and the chaos of what's still to come.

Finally, the fear of missing out has gotten the better of me, and I may well have bitten off more than I can chew.

In August, I'll toe the line at the OCC UTMB- 56 kilometers of steep, rocky beauty from Orsières to Chamonix. I've long heard of the Mecca of trail running and figured I should see it at least once. It's trail running in its most honest form: altitude, suffering, scenery, and an uncomfortable number of descents that would make a mountain goat reconsider its life choices.

For someone not exactly known for his power-to-weight ratio, this is way out of my comfort zone. The timeline, thanks to a few injuries and crashes, throws out any textbook preparation. With only five weeks to get ready, this is possibly a spectacularly dumb idea.

But also- exactly what I needed. The gravity, the element of uncertainty and excitement that I've always loved about a goal.

There's something quietly powerful about setting out to do something that scares you a little. The kind that makes your inner voice go, "Really? That's the plan?" Tim Ferriss calls this “fear-setting”- clearly defining what terrifies you so you can move toward it anyway. Apparently, my fear involves vertical kilometers and the very real possibility of walking stairs backwards for a week afterwards.

When you're not chasing anything, the days blur. Exercise becomes directionless- productive, maybe, but often just scratching an itch. Lock in a date, a location, a distance well outside your current comfort zone, and suddenly everything sharpens. Your mornings have direction. Your decisions tighten. That late-night dessert, the skipped session, the "maybe tomorrow" excuse- they all meet resistance from something bigger.

Big goals create small habits. I know- one of those sayings you'd find on a gym calendar next to a photo of someone doing burpees at sunrise while looking unreasonably happy about it. But it is the simple, repetitive actions over time that build the capacity for larger achievements. I do after all have a few years of running in my legs- let’s hope they remember.

I always used to love this part of the season because it separates the predictable from the possible. It's easy to keep doing what you're good at. I was never a fan of "if it ain't broke, don't fix it." There's so much more reward in seeing how far you can actually stretch- even if that stretching involves literal mountains and metaphorical breakdowns.

That's what OCC is for me. It's not about proving anything- I’ve crossed enough finish lines for that itch to be thoroughly scratched. It's about becoming something new again. A guy who can suffer on trails. Who can go long and slow and quiet. Who trades watts for views and cadence for calm. Even if only for one event, and even if I spend most of it apologizing to my legs. The risk of falling short is part of the appeal. If you knew you could do it, it wouldn't be worth chasing.

If you're in the middle of the season, unsure where you stand or what you need, I'll offer this: don't wait for motivation to strike. Go out and plant a flag. Sign up for something that makes you slightly uncomfortable. Take your shot. Let the deadline shape your discipline.

Whether you're racing, resetting, or sipping rosé in the Mediterranean sun, I hope you've got something out there pulling you forward. Not because you need it, but because you want to see what happens when you try. The beauty of a big goal isn't in the achievement- it’s in where you go while chasing it.

See you in Chamonix. Hopefully upright.

Keep chasing,

Jan

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