I’ve been motivated — and demotivated — by other folks’ achievement s all my life.
When I was a teenager, a neighborhood friend 41 a marathon race. Feeling motivated, I started running 42, but then two things happened. First, a girl I met one day told me she was 43 for a “super,” referring to a 52.4-mile double marathon. Then, the next day I went on my longest run — 15 miles. To be honest, I 44 it! Between the girl making my 45 seem small and the pure boredom of jogging, I decided that the only 46 I’d ever run again is if a big dog was running after me!
So I 47 cycling. I got a good bike and rode a lot. I 48 of entering cycle races until I flew to San Diego to visit my sister. While she was at work one day, I 49 her bike and went for a ride. The 50: The roads there went through large valleys where I’d be riding uphill for miles at a time. I’d never faced such 51. That day, I got 52 by about 100 “local” bikers who were used to such roads. When I got back home, suddenly riding my bike didn’t seem quite as 53.
I’ve 54 a lot since then. I’ve come to accept that whatever 55 I set for myself, they just have to be my own.

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