I thought I would have been more disappointed than I was.
A week ago today was the day I was expecting to run the Boston Marathon. Until, that is, the coronavirus pandemic forced the postponement of the race until September.
Running the Boston Marathon is a goal I have been working toward for many years. The world’s oldest annual marathon and regarded as the pinnacle event within the sport of road racing, entrance is granted only to those athletes who attain a qualifying time (relative to age), something that is achieved by only 10% of all marathon finishers. I came close to qualifying once in 2006, but as time passed the goal seemed to be getting farther and farther away. Determined not to let it forever elude my grasp, Judy and I joined a marathon training clinic hosted by a local running club in 2017. Even then, progress was measured by one step forward and two steps back: At my next marathon, a number of physical issues compounded to result in a new personal worst marathon time. In 2018, surgery and a bout of achilles tendinitis limited my training. Finally, at the Glass City Marathon in Toledo, Ohio a year ago tomorrow, I achieved a qualifying time with 3 minutes and 14 seconds to spare.
Judy, who had already completed the Boston Marathon in April 2019 (based on a qualifying time achieved at the Toronto Marathon in May 2018), re-qualified at the Erie Marathon in September. We were on our way to Boston together, with a vision of crossing the finishing line together, linked hands held high—an 18-year dream come true! Or so we thought.
When the announcement came on March 13 that the 124th Boston Marathon would be postponed until September 14, it was no surprise as by that time we had already seen many other major sporting events cancelled or postponed due to the coronavirus. And, at this point, it’s hard to muster any confidence that the event will even go forward in September. The world in which a 26.1 mile road race is the apogee of runners’ aspirations doesn’t exist, for now, and it’s difficult to foresee when it will return. It’s hard to imagine the Commonwealth of Massachusetts and the City of Boston any time soon welcoming an event that will attract more than 30,000 runners and 500,000 spectators from all over the world, when (as of April 25) Massachusetts has recorded more than 53,000 cases of COVID-19 and 2,730 deaths, more than the entire country of Canada. But, barring an announcement of cancellation between now and then, in a couple of weeks’ time Judy and I will commence a rigorous 18-week training program to prepare for the big event on September 14.
However, on Marathon Monday, the third Monday of April (Patriot’s Day as it is known in Massachusetts), the day we had been building toward for months (if not years), I felt little disappointment—if any. After all, what is value of my deferred dream compared to the disappointments than so many others have suffered as a result of the coronavirus pandemic? Goodbyes unsaid, because a loved one passed away alone in a hospital. Rites of passage—weddings, baptisms, graduation ceremonies, high school proms—cancelled or postponed. New business ventures, months in the planning, hundreds of thousands of dollars invested, shuttered—perhaps never to reopen. Our collective focus, until now, has rightly been on protecting our physical health, but there may be a coming mental health crisis. In a recent survey, half of Canadians polled said their mental health has gotten worse in the past several weeks. An underground reservoir of grief, fear and despair is growing in society that may cause an “echo pandemic” of depression and anxiety once the virus is brought under control.
“Disappointment exists in the space between desire and reality, whereby the more reality falls short of our desire, the more disappointed be become.”
David Lieberman
To be disappointed is to be human, even though the factors that collude to create disappointment may be accentuated by our current public health and economic crisis. Author David Lieberman says, “Disappointment exists in the space between desire and reality, whereby the more reality falls short of our desire, the more disappointed we become.” Lieberman goes on to explain that disappointment is mitigated by expectation: My desire was to line up to run the marathon in Boston on Monday, April 20, but as of late I didn’t expect to do so. Reality fell far short of my desire, but my low expectations mitigated my disappointment.
Even though we’re taking comfort in the declining numbers of new cases of COVID-19, it’s likely that we’ll be living with disappointment for a few weeks or months to come. Today brought the disappointing news that London, Ontario’s big three music festivals—Sunfest, Home County Folk Festival and Rock the Park—have all been cancelled for 2020. How can we manage a steady stream of disappointments without surrendering to pessimism and depression?
“By telling yourself it’s wrong to feel disappointed, you are gaslighting yourself.”
Katerina Georgiou
- Acknowledge your grief and loss. We can easily question our right to feel disappointed about the cancellation of summer festivals when thousands of people are in intensive care on ventilators and exhausted healthcare workers are fighting to save their lives. But, when you’re sad, you’re sad. The loss of an event that you’ve been eagerly anticipating for months is still a loss. British psychotherapist Katerina Georgiou says, “By telling yourself it’s wrong to feel disappointed, you are gaslighting yourself.” Similarly, don’t gloss over your pain by rationalizing or romanticizing the disappointing experience. There may very well be a silver lining to the cloud (see my next bullet) but receive it as an unexpected gift rather than something you require for order to be restored to your universe. Our universe is going to be disordered for some time to come.
- Take positive action. Georgiou says, “Once you have accepted your disappointment, choose what you wish to do with it.” Judy and I were planning a trip to South Africa in October of this year to celebrate our 40th wedding anniversary, an idea which has become unrealistic. Rather than sitting in a place of sadness as we think about cancelled plans, we’re envisioning the possibilities for a similar trip in 2021, only now with more time to plan and save. We can also frame our disappointment within the wider context of life by commemorating the things we’re grateful for: Among other things, I am thankful that the pandemic has taught us to offer more attentiveness to the needs of our elders, greater respect for the contributions “essential workers” make to our wellbeing, and deeper appreciation for the positive ways in which technology and social media can bring us together.
- Manage your expectations. Just as expectations can mitigate disappointment, so they can exacerbate it. Unmanaged expectations can produce toxic disappointment, disappointment that has matured into anger (at God, the universe, or at life itself). Expectations unhinged from reality are an expression of an out-of-control ego. Life is not fair; bad things do happen to good people. If, in a couple of months, we are informed that the Boston Marathon will not go ahead as planned in September, I will not take it as a personal affront. No one owes me anything. Even though I worked hard to qualify, I obtained that prize as much by virtue of privilege (blessed with good health, surrounded by supportive friends, financially secure and therefore able to invest adequate time in training) as by dint of my effort.
To be disappointed is to be human. Life—this world—will never satisfy all our desires. We are designed to yearn for something beyond this existence. But, with attention to our feelings, we can acknowledge disappointment and hold on to hope for a better day. Patience, flexibility and resilience come from dealing appopriately with the loss that results when our lives don’t move forward according to plan.
Text © 2020 Edwin Wilson. Banner photo by Fryderyk, “Homme dans la tourmente.” Some rights reserved.
