As the year comes to a close, it’s easy to feel like you’re supposed to be measuring yourself—what you accomplished, what you didn’t, and whether you did “enough.” In this New Year’s Eve episode of Still Becoming, Bobby offers a quieter, more honest perspective.

This episode isn’t about resolutions.

It’s not about reinventing yourself.

And it’s not about pretending January 1st magically resets everything.

Instead, it’s about recognizing that growth doesn’t happen on a calendar.

Becoming doesn’t start and stop with the year. It doesn’t care what month it is. Some of the biggest changes in our lives begin not in moments of excitement, but in exhaustion, doubt, and quiet decisions no one else sees.

Still Becoming isn’t a one-year project. It’s not “I’ll give it everything this year and see what happens.” It’s not a last shot or a deadline. It’s a long-term commitment to staying in the process—through sprint seasons, survival seasons, and rebuilding seasons. All of it counts.

In this episode, Bobby speaks directly to those who feel tired. Those who showed up even when they didn’t feel strong. Those who kept going quietly while others seemed to be “winning.” This isn’t about proving anything—it’s about choosing not to quit on yourself.

Becoming can look like training harder.

It can look like resting without guilt.

It can look like admitting you don’t have all the answers.

That’s not weakness. That’s wisdom.

Rather than asking, “What do I need to accomplish this year?” this episode invites you to ask deeper questions:

Who do I want to keep becoming?

What am I willing to stay committed to—even when it’s uncomfortable?

What version of myself deserves patience?

You don’t need a perfect plan. You don’t need massive momentum. You just need honesty, compassion, and the willingness to stay in the process.

As the year ends, don’t measure yourself by what you didn’t do. Measure yourself by the fact that you’re still here. Still curious. Still trying. Still listening to that quiet voice inside that says, “There’s more in me.”

There is.

This isn’t the end of anything.

It’s just another step.

Episode Summary — “Chasing My Old Self”

In this episode of Still Becoming, Bobby takes listeners inside one of the most vulnerable moments of his marathon training journey—a day that was supposed to confirm progress, but instead forced him to confront doubt, comparison, and identity.

The episode opens with a familiar fear many athletes and high achievers know well: not the fear of slowing down, but the fear that maybe this is all you have left. Bobby recounts heading into a marathon simulation run fully prepared—training, fueling, sleep, mindset all aligned. This wasn’t just another long run. It was meant to be a statement. A chance to prove that all the work was leading him back to the runner he once was.

The early miles felt smooth and controlled. Confidence crept in. But as conditions worsened—light rain, gusting wind—and the miles added up, something didn’t click. When Bobby tried to press into marathon pace, the response never came. Effort increased, but pace didn’t. His body tightened. His stride shortened. And the familiar internal dialogue surfaced: Why can’t you go faster? This used to be easy. What if you’ve lost it?

By mile nineteen, the weight of it all set in. Not anger. Not frustration. Just a deep sense of defeat. Bobby made the decision to shut it down—not with a dramatic finish or heroic push, but quietly. And almost immediately, the inner critic followed: You gave up. You’re not who you used to be. Maybe you’re getting slower.

What made this moment hit hardest wasn’t the workout itself, but what it symbolized. Bobby wasn’t just fighting the weather or the run—he was fighting a past version of himself. A version that existed in a different season of life.

In the reflection that follows, perspective begins to shift. Sitting with the data—twenty miles at a solid average pace in tough conditions—Bobby realizes the comparison isn’t fair. The runner he was in 2021 and 2022 wasn’t building a podcast, raising a family, working full-time, and carrying the weight of more responsibility. Today’s version isn’t weaker—he’s carrying more.

This episode becomes less about chasing an old self and more about honoring who he’s becoming. Strength, Bobby reminds us, doesn’t always show up in splits or results. Sometimes strength is simply continuing to show up when belief feels fragile.

The episode closes with a powerful reminder and listener challenge: progress isn’t always visible. Some days, it feels like defeat—but those are often the days shaping who we’re becoming. Listeners are encouraged to reflect on where they’re comparing themselves to an older version of who they were, and instead ask a different question:

Who am I becoming?

Because becoming isn’t a moment—it’s built mile by mile, day by day.

There’s something powerful about seeing someone in their 60s still moving with purpose — not out of nostalgia, not to prove a point, but because the fire is still there. Not the reckless fire of youth, but the refined kind. The kind that knows who it is.

In this episode of Still Becoming, Bobby sits down with Ray Knerr — a lifelong runner, coach, competitor, and quiet example of what it means to keep showing up long after the world expects you to slow down.

Ray is in his mid-60s and still competing at a high level. Just this past year alone, he placed fifth at the Indoor World Championships in the 800m, ran 2:18 in the 800m, clocked 18:25 at the Carlsbad 5000 on the roads, and ran an indoor 3K in 10:22. On paper, those numbers are impressive. But the real story of this episode goes much deeper than times and results.

Recovery took longer. Speed required more intention. Strength had to be maintained, not assumed. The body no longer bounced back automatically. But what’s striking is that Ray doesn’t frame these changes as losses. He frames them as information.

What changed physically? Recovery became more important. Warm-ups mattered. Cool-downs mattered. Strength and mobility stopped being optional. But on the flip side, something else remained remarkably intact — the love of the process, the desire to compete, and the internal drive to keep improving.

Ray talks openly about comparing himself to his younger self — something almost every aging athlete struggles with. Instead of pretending those thoughts don’t exist, he acknowledges them and then reframes them. The goal is no longer to chase who you were. It’s to respect who you are now.

When the conversation turns to training, Ray is refreshingly practical. He still runs frequently, but with purpose. He still does speed work, but it’s tailored. He still pushes himself, but not blindly.

Recovery, he emphasizes, is no longer something you squeeze in when convenient — it’s part of the training itself. Easy days are truly easy. Hard days are intentional. Strength training and mobility work are no longer accessories; they’re foundations.

The Mental Game

For Ray, it’s not fear of decline. It’s curiosity. It’s identity. It’s the simple question: What am I still capable of?

He talks about days when the body doesn’t respond — when the legs feel heavy, when workouts don’t click. Instead of spiraling, he zooms out. He reminds himself that consistency over time matters more than any single session.

When asked about the biggest mental difference between Ray at 20 and Ray now, the answer is clear: patience. A deeper trust in the process.

As the conversation closes, Ray offers advice for athletes in their 40s, 50s, and beyond — especially those thinking about restarting or redefining their relationship with sport.

Aging athletes often bring more discipline, better emotional regulation, and a stronger appreciation for the opportunity to move. When paired with smart training, that mindset becomes a powerful advantage.

The answers are quiet, grounded, and deeply human. There’s no dramatic declaration — just the steady truth that growth doesn’t stop unless we decide it does.

Aging doesn’t end your fire.

It refines it.

And as always, the reminder that anchors Still Becoming:

You’re still becoming.

And you’re the only one stopping you.