Framing Failure: What a 100km Walk Taught Me About Myself
Over the weekend, I set out with friends to walk 100 kilometers in one go. Nope, not me—I’ll admit right upfront that I buckled after 30 kilometers. Circulatory collapse, probably because I was running on empty, sugar-wise. What does that do to me? Honestly, I was proud of myself. Not proud of my body giving out in that moment, mind you. Proud of finally feeling my limits again. I was also surprised. Seriously! My personal goal was to walk over 50 kilometers on foot. In the end, I made “only” 30 kilometers. I hadn’t expected to fade that fast. Am I disappointed? Nah, not really. Now, you could argue, “Someone who isn’t disappointed was never fully committed.” We took the train and bus to the starting point, a trip that took over two hours. During that ride, I kept asking myself, “Why am I even doing this? What’s my commitment here?” For me, it was never about proving how strong I am or showing the world how athletic I can be. Not even the thought of discovering my own limits crossed my mind. Deep down, I just had this urge to do something sporty, something challenging. I knew 50 kilometers—my original goal—was no small feat. But I didn’t dwell on the details of why it might be tough. I could’ve racked my brain beforehand: What about foot pain? Cold? Cramps? Group dynamics (there were nine of us)? Endurance? Somehow, I didn’t go there. Foolish! I can already hear some folks chiming in. And yeah, you could question where that motivation came from—or why I didn’t think it through. Fear of fear itself? Just plain absent-mindedness? Those are questions everyone answers for themselves, and no one else can do it for you. Right now, I’m thinking: I didn’t overthink it because I never had some grand athletic goal. My main drive was simple: to finally walk a long distance again. The lesson hit me hard after 30 kilometers, and it landed well. Satoji, here’s where your physical limits are right now. And it felt good. My mind threw a tantrum, looking for someone or something to blame. My body chimed in with nausea, dizziness, trembling, and sweat attacks. And then, as the grand finale of the whole experience, my emotions kicked in. Tears of despair and gratitude mixed together. That grounded me. It meant I got to experience the raw reality of life again. And honestly? That makes me proud! Proud to be living this life.
Final thought: Life is all about the right framing. Framing is just another word for perspective. Most of the nine in our group made it on foot from start to finish —100 kilometers, no sleep, nearly 30 hours. Just wow! And me? I “only made it a third of the way.” If it was really about the kilometers, I could spin it like this: Hey, I walked “from Mellau to Schoppernau,” then “back from Schoppernau to Mellau,” and then half of “Mellau to Schoppernau” again (this is a famous song in my region, so please allow me this inside joke.). But I rebel against that kind of framing! We’re living in an era where one thing is incredibly important and getting even more so: the age of self-reflection. So my framing for this 100-kilometer adventure is this: What did I learn about myself? Where in my life am I maybe still a bit too pessimistic instead of a bit too optimistic? Where’s my trust?
