Runners are strange. Since I’m a runner, by default, that means that I’m strange too. No surprise there. When I say that we’re strange, it’s not so much about who we are as individuals, rather it’s about how our chosen sport causes us to behave strangely, neurotically even. We are the great rationalizers, mentally manipulating ourselves, constantly making deals with our bodies, justifying our training decisions to fit how we feel, forever watching the weather and judging the terrain we run across. One of the most wonderful things about being a runner is that generally speaking, we understand and forgive each other’s quirks and neuroses. In fact, we are prone to emulate other runners, even when (maybe especially when) they are making dubious choices.
Each of us claims to love/hate hills, flats, heat, wind, trails, rain, roads, mud, cold, rocks or snow when what we really love or hate is ourselves based on how we perform on a given day under the conditions present. We deem certain conditions as being our favorites while we claim to loathe other circumstances. The truth is that we like to run well and feel good so we wait for that to happen and then we reverse engineer our minds to believe that the conditions which were present during this good run were perfectly matched to our strengths. In reality, any of us can be good at running in any conditions but first we must allow our minds to believe it. If the mind believes something to be true, the body will perform to that same level.
We all know that running is usually better with a healthy body but a strong mind is far more critical to long term success. A solid mental approach to running can overcome a battered body but the reverse is not normally true. Our thinking can cause failure even when our body is perfectly healthy and ready to run. Or as I like to say, 50% of running is half mental more than 90% of the time. What? Anyway, as I said runners are strange…..and we like it that way.
In most sports, competitors attempt to intimidate their opponents in order to throw them off their game. This is entirely unnecessary in running because our heads are already stuffed full of self intimidating, self defeating crap that we’ve spent years putting there. Nobody else needs to bother screwing with our heads because we’ve got that covered.
For instance, when I hear someone say “I just want to finish”, I don’t believe them. I’m not saying that the speaker of those words is not being sincere. In fact, I am sure that I’ve said those exact words myself at some point and I’m just as certain that I meant them whole heartedly at the time. But with the clarity of looking back, I don’t think that I really “just wanted to finish”. I think what I really meant to say was “I just want to finish without suffering too much and I would like to look good doing it and if it’s not too much trouble, I would like to finish much faster than I expected to but without vomiting on my new shoes. At a minimum, I just want to finish fast enough to wipe that snotty self satisfied look off of my co-workers face because she thinks she’s all that since she ran Boston a few years ago. But if the weather is really bad and the course is tough and I have stomach issues and my IT Band acts up again, THEN really, I just want to finish”. I think that’s what I meant.
Like most battles we have with ourselves as runners, it is really just a tug-of-war between ego and fear. When I say “I just want to finish”, fear has already won the first battle, but ego is really calling the shots. I am announcing loud and clear that “I may not finish this race but if I do, it might be really slow, so don’t judge me”. All of that nonsense is born in ego and perpetuated by fear. It serves no real purpose other than to help soften the blow of failure. In truth, this statement sets the bar so low that we couldn’t even crawl under it. It’s as if some of us compete at not competing. If there was a prize for being the most non competitive, wouldn’t that defeat the purpose?
It may sound as if I am chastising all of us who have hedged our bets or given ourselves permission to perform at the lowest possible standard. Maybe I am. But there is actually a positive side to this hedging too. The very presence of fear verifies that I do have an ego, albeit an inflated one. The key is keeping my ego in check without freaking myself out with fearful thoughts of catastrophic failure. What would other people say if I ran a slow time or if I didn’t even finish? The painful truth is that they wouldn’t say much because even though I might think that everyone is watching me, it’s not really true. There is really only one person that genuinely, deep down cares about my finishing time. That would be me. As it should be.
Through 35 years of racing, my reasons for running have changed as much as my life has. I was 12 when I started to run in races and I have no recollection as to why I ever tried running. Probably to please my Dad. Today, I know why I run. I run so that I can create a haven for my thoughts and feelings, a place that is protected and hidden from my fears. Running is where I go to be safe, to create an energy zone around me. Running is a cozy house with an alarm system or a sturdy reliable car with airbags or the feel of a loved one’s arms around me. Running is serenity and sacrifice and sunshine on my face. Running is the friend I can trust, the lover who won’t leave me, the ice cream that won’t make me fat. Running is the perfect partner because running gives back to me exactly what I give to it. Above all else, running has taught me humility. Given the choice, I would always prefer to reach the finish line than not reach it, although arguably the lessons learned from not finishing (I didn’t say failure) have probably been more valuable to my long term success as a human being.
Speaking of finishing something, I have been here in Beckley, West Virginia Federal Prison for nearly 14 months, with several more months to go. Before I got here, I had many pre conceived ideas about what to expect. Most of them were wrong. But the one thing that has proven to be true was my expectation that I would get out of this experience whatever I put into it. As I near the end of my time here, I am tempted to withdraw, to protect myself, to change what I have been doing, which is a lot. In other words, I feel like saying “I just want to finish”. And of course, taken literally, that statement could not be more true. I do want to be finished with this. I do want to go home. I do want my life back. But I will do it my own way.
I have not become docile in prison but neither am I angry, although I could probably justify being angry. If anything, this time away has stoked the fire that has burned inside me, building what is now a fully engaged inferno. I have never wanted an easy life and I don’t want one now. So instead of just trying to finish, I want to pick up the pace, push myself farther and harder into the uncomfortable unmanageable unknown, trusting that if I do, I will find new territory to explore both inside of me and outside in the world. I want to go beyond the safe confines of the finish line where there are no course markings or orange cones telling me where to go next. The path ahead is not obvious for me, there is no guarantee of safety or comfort. Perfection is implausible, if not impossible, so I will rely more on passion than on a well thought out plan. I do want to finish but more than that, I just want to do my best, even if I am only RUNNING IN PLACE.
