Often. And it doesn’t mean I quit striving (been racing since 2004, not as long as others but longer than most). I often set ambitious goals, and I am often just outside them. Rarely am I so far off absent a mechanical or other serious unforeseen issue.
However more recently I’ve been judging my race performance more on how it makes me feel versus whether I was 45th or 50th in my AG at a large WTC type race. Did I pace correctly and hold back smartly where needed? Did I push appropriately? Did I give in to the voices in my head telling me to stop? This started a couple years ago when my Garmin flooded just before Oceanside so I raced it blind. 6th time I’d done the course, and TBH was super happy with my execution, didn’t even look at my time until several days later. Now I race in a similar fashion, no running time although I do have the Garmin for data
I’ve had faster years and I’ve had slower years but if I execute to the very best of my ability at the time of the race, that’s a success. Whether that result meets my “time goals” is not really relevant to me, and really just tells me there are things I have to work on if I didn’t meet that goal.
Friend of mine writes the back page piece in the USAT Tri mag. Best line he wrote: “Ultimately, it’s not about the time it took you to get from the start to the finish, but the time you had in between”
This is close to how I’d described my attitude toward race performance. I do set ambitious goals and look to do well by PB and relative to others in my age group. But success is really about how well I execute on race day, especially if conditions are challenging and I’ve got to think on my feet. Interestingly, I no longer race with a watch. It just so happens that about the time I quit wearing my watch I got both happier and faster.
I think someone mentioned the difference between ‘happy’ and ‘satisfied.’ It’s a good point. I’m always happy when I’m doing a tri and after: I’m doing something I love, I’m outside, and I’m on my bike. That’s about as great as life gets.
When I cross the finish line, I evaluate whether I’ve met my goals. That’s an objective process, not an emotional one. There’s always room for improvement. If there wasn’t I wouldn’t be doing this sport. You always want to feel like you’re getting smarter and faster and that search to do so is what drives you. But unless I’ve truly screwed up - ie, unless I’ve disappointed myself by making a weak decision, given in to the voices telling me to stop or slow down, not being my ‘higher self’ - then I’m always happy even if I also know I could have physically gone faster. But I’m still going to see how I can improve.