What Running 1000 Miles Taught Me about Goals, Overachieving and Self-Compassion

“The race is long, and in the end, it’s only with yourself.” ~ Mary Schmich

I can’t really tell you why I decided to run 1000 miles in 2018. It felt like a good idea at the time.

Numbers aside, running that much taught me a lot. Running, like anything challenging in life, acts as a hologram: all the beliefs and patterns elsewhere in life show up when I’m running. I wrote a blog post at the time about what I had learned; you can read that here.

Sometimes, when I reread old posts, I feel quite proud; I sounded pretty wise back then. But this one had me cringe.

Looking back, I can see all the telltale signs of perfectionism and overachieving driving me. That need to set such a big, arbitrary goal, and then the pressure I put on myself when I fell behind; those weren’t healthy motivators. And while I did feel a buzz from achieving something hard, it came at the expense of my wellbeing.

To be clear, I'm not saying 2018 Vix was wrong. She rocked and I'm very proud of her for this particular milestone. I wouldn't be here today, looking back, if it wasn't for her and her dogged determination to do hard things. I wouldn't say anything to her to change it. But after a few more years of self-reflection and some significant trauma therapy, there are some things she did that I'm glad I've learned how to do differently.

This post is a reflection, looking back at what I said then, with compassion for my past self, and offering what I would say now. There’s value in both perspectives, but I hope that by sharing this more nuanced view, you’ll feel invited to approach your own goals with more care, compassion, and connection. This post is self-contained but, if you have a few extra moments, I recommend taking a look at what I wrote then and seeing if you can spot the implicit perfectionism running the show.

1. Have Stretch Goals

What I Said Then
I encouraged setting stretch goals: big, audacious goals that feel scary but achievable. I saw them as a way to lift your vision beyond the day-to-day and to push yourself to grow.

Where I Stand Now
I still believe stretch goals can be valuable, but I’ve learned that not all 'stretching' is generative. Sometimes, what we call a stretch goal is really a disguised form of overachieving. I think stretch goals can still be helpful. If I want to get better at a skill, I need to make it progressively harder so I keep developing. But what makes a goal meaningful isn't inherently its level of difficulty; it's the aliveness it brings. A meaningful stretch goal challenges you, but it also nourishes you. It doesn’t drain you or force you to abandon your wellbeing.

2. Break It Down

What I Said Then
I suggested breaking big goals into manageable chunks, like thinking of 1000 miles as 3 miles a day. It makes huge goals feel less overwhelming.

Where I Stand Now
Breaking things down is still helpful, but here’s the trap: I didn’t leave space for rest. Three miles a day sounds doable, but it adds up to every single day. There was no room to listen to my body, to rest, or to adapt. When breaking down big goals, I now ask: “Where’s the spaciousness? Where’s the flexibility?” Because life isn’t linear, and neither is progress.

3. Progress Adds Up

What I Said Then
I celebrated how small steps accumulate over time, that even on days when I didn’t feel like running, just doing a mile still moved me closer to my goal.

Where I Stand Now
This is still true but, like all things, there’s nuance. I used to run even when I was injured or exhausted because I didn’t want to 'fall behind' a [completely arbitrary and invented] goal. Chasing progress just for the sake of it? That’s a slippery slope, one I’ve been down before. Reducing our aliveness to a bunch of numbers is, well, reductionist. It’s how science has approached understanding the world for centuries and look where that’s gotten us; the very life we seek to understand is dying because we ignore the relationships between things. Life isn’t meant to be measured in numbers alone.

4. Show Up Every Day

What I Said Then
I encouraged consistency, running every day to keep the habit strong and avoid falling behind.

Where I Stand Now
Consistency is powerful, but so is rest. Showing up doesn’t have to mean doing the same thing every day. It can mean showing up for yourself and your needs. Some days, showing up looks like running. On other days, it looks like resting, stretching, or even staying in bed. The key is discerning what kind of 'showing up' truly serves you.

I’ve wrestled a lot with the idea of consistency since then. If you’re curious about how I’ve unpacked the tyranny of consistency, check out this video and this post.

5. Don’t Quit

What I Said Then
I wrote about pushing through hard times, not giving up just because something was difficult, and proving to yourself what you’re capable of.

Where I Stand Now
Not quitting isn’t always the brave choice; sometimes, quitting is. There’s a huge difference between giving up because something is hard and stepping back because it’s harming you. Sometimes, things get difficult and you need to be resilient and determined in creating the life you want or the change you hope for the world. Other times, it's really not necessary to beat your head against a brick wall for an arbitrary goal. Like the serenity prayer, the wisdom is in knowing the difference. Rest is a vital component in having the space to recognise which it is.

6. Ask for Help

What I Said Then
I talked about how reaching out to friends to join me on runs helped me push through tough miles and made the experience more enjoyable.

Where I Stand Now
This one I absolutely still agree with, and I’ll add: ask for help not just to achieve more, but to feel more connected. In the past, I saw help as a way to make the goal easier. Now, I see it as a way to make the journey richer. Community isn’t just a tool for productivity; it’s a source of nourishment.

7. Understand Your Why

What I Said Then
I emphasized the importance of connecting to your Why as a source of motivation.

Where I Stand Now
Yes, and...your Why might not always be what you think it is. Back then, I thought my “why” was to create a healthy running habit. In hindsight, I can see how setting such an extreme goal was, in part, a way to avoid emotional discomfort. I was putting myself through physical strain to distract from deeper emotional wounds. This wasn’t about building a healthy habit; it was about proving my worth.

The body doesn't always tell The Truth; it tells A truth. I was excited about this goal, it felt motivating at the time. My body was excited about the goal, sure, and in hindsight, I can see that excitement was rooted in familiar patterns of overachieving. Trauma lives in the body, and sometimes what feels ‘right’ is really just what’s familiar.

Now, I ask: “Is my Why rooted in love or fear? Expansion or avoidance?” A nourishing Why brings aliveness, not just validation. A helpful practice is to keep asking yourself "why?" to get underneath the surface of what's really motivating you.

8. Hold It Lightly

What I Said Then
I reflected on holding your goals lightly, not tying your worth to whether or not you achieve them.

Where I Stand Now
This still feels true, and there's more. Holding goals lightly doesn’t mean being detached; it means being flexible. It means allowing your goals to evolve as you do. And it means trusting that your worth is inherent, not something you earn through miles, medals, or milestones. Even the idea of holding goals lightly can become another thing to ‘get right.’ Perfectionism is sneaky like that. But the truth is, it’s all a process, and I’m still figuring it out.

Be Kind in hindsight

Looking back, I see how much of my motivation in 2018 was tied to perfectionism and overachieving. I needed to prove something to myself, and to others. And while I don’t regret that experience (2018 me did the best she could with what she knew), I also wouldn’t do it the same way now.

Today, I’m more interested in how I feel along the way, not just what I achieve at the end. I’m more willing to rest, to adjust, and to be gentle with myself. And I see goals not as measures of my worth, but as invitations to grow, to connect, and to feel more alive.

If you’re reflecting on your own goals, I invite you to ask: “Is this goal expanding me or depleting me? Is it rooted in love or fear? And how can I hold it more lightly, with compassion for myself along the way?”

If you’re curious about how perfectionism sneaks into goal-setting, I’ve written more about that here. And remember: you don’t need to get it perfect. Growth is messy, and that’s okay.

I’m grateful to 2018 Vix. She did the best she could with the tools she had. And without her grit, I wouldn’t be here now, writing this with more softness and self-compassion. That feels like a different kind of success.

Let me know what resonates with you. Have you had similar reflections on past goals? I’d love to hear your stories.