Most of us are scared of failure. Of trying something and falling short. It stops us from even attempting many things that we’d like to do. And it’s stupid.

I try to help my runners get over this fear when I’m leading my running groups. Each week that they attempt a new distance I’ll be met with a few voices saying “I can’t do that.” And many more faces that say the same thing.

I ask them: what’s the worst that’s going to happen? They’ll stop running a minute or two early and walk. That’s all. The ground won’t open up and swallow them, they won’t be pointed at and laughed at and they won’t be thrown out the group. They’ll just come back next week and try again. Because all that matters is that they try.

This year I’ve attempted two things that I haven’t achieved. Back in April I tried to run a 3:30 marathon and last month I tried to do Ironman UK. I staggered round London Marathon in 4:19 and failed to finish Ironman UK in Bolton. The world didn’t stop turning. I’m still allowed to keep running and cycling and swimming. I haven’t had my membership card to running or triathlon taken away and cut up.

I’d declared publicly both of these aims. I’d been open about the fact that there was a good chance I might not finish Ironman UK, but I was willing to give it a go anyway. I’m glad I did because I’ve challenged my body in the past six months to do many things that it has achieved, and I’ve had a great time doing that.

If I’d let my fear of failure get in the way I wouldn’t have learnt how to love swimming in lakes and rivers, I wouldn’t have ridden my bike nearly 74 miles through quiet country lanes on a sunny day in June and I wouldn’t have found out just how lovely some of the people I know are.

10487582_10154410702845571_397479048927007803_n

I had an amazing amount of lovely comments on my Ironman UK blog. The same thing happened back in April after London marathon. After both of these races I’ve had much more fun and laughs (and drinks) than in any of the races where everything has gone to plan and I got a medal and a shiny PB. My friends that came to Bolton and London and took me to the pub afterwards, although supportive in my efforts to try, didn’t care that I failed in my aims.

We’re often scared to fail because of what people will think. Lovely people don’t care if we fail. And as for everyone else, stuff them. Have a go anyway. Fail gloriously and then go to the pub, happy that you at least gave it a shot.