For years, I have asked myself the question, “why do I run?”
The answer was never obvious to me. Was it a pressure I put on myself? Was it my want to test my limits and see how far I can go with it? Was it because it’s a form of exercise that was simple and an easy habit to maintain?
After I finished my first ultra marathon that was 50 miles, people asked me, why did you put yourself through something like that?
The answer was a trite, “to push myself.”
That was a simple answer, but the answer wasn’t that simple.
Honestly, it wasn't clear to me why I signed up for marathons and ultra marathons. In fact, in about every endurance event I have ever signed up for, there’s a point of existential dread where I think, “why am I doing this?”
When you are truly experiencing discomfort, the thought of comfort becomes a siren song.
During endurance events, I’ve thought about dropping out plenty of times when I didn’t need to drop out. Deep down, I knew that I could continue, but the truth was, I would rather not do it anymore. However, my ego was in a conundrum. If I dropped out, knowing I could have given more, what was I going to tell others? What was I going to tell myself?
Moments like these are when you get to weaponize your ego to do something good. Your ego doesn’t want you to look bad, so you’ll tell yourself, “I can make it to the next aid station, and then I’ll see how I’m feeling.”
You get to the next aid station, there are volunteers working there, cheering you to keep going, and then you think to yourself, “well shit, I can’t stop now.”
Eventually, you’ll get to the point where you’ve finished such a large percentage of the race, you think to yourself, “I can’t quit now unless I’m going to miss the cutoff or have to medical drop.”
You keep going and once you cross that finish line, you think to yourself, “I’m never doing this again.”
Two days later, after eating a bunch of food and enjoying those joyous recover days, you forget all those negative thoughts you had during the race and remember the feeling of crossing that finish line. I’m never doing this again, becomes when’s the next one.
Running is for my mental health
I didn’t realize how necessary running is for my mental health until I took a hiatus from it. This past winter, I think in the entire month of December, I ran a total of 4 miles. Aside from my Garmin severely punishing my VO2 max for it, I started to feel down. I didn’t even realize at the time that I was experiencing this level of anxiety because it came upon me hastily.
My decision-making was pure paralysis analysis. I struggled to think about what I needed to do next. Instead, I would do nothing. The only things I would do were the things I had to do to get by. I was no longer being proactive.
The thought of going on a run was like, “do I need to do this today? I can do it tomorrow, I’m not feeling it today.”
I wasn’t feeling it today? There wasn’t much of an excuse, I hadn’t run in weeks at that point. It wasn’t like I wasn’t recovered.
I barely ran all winter and I could feel myself getting out of shape, which made myself feel worse about myself. It wouldn’t be until the spring that I started slow and was able to start changing things.
Breaking out of the rut
It wasn’t until I went some time without running did I realize how important it was to me. This past winter was probably the fewest miles I have run in the last 15 years.
I began running my freshman year of college after I quit playing football. The gym and conditioning drills were always my sanctuary during the offseason. I loved training and that feeling that I was working towards something. During my freshman year, as I started to realize that maybe college football wasn’t for me, I started to think about what I was going to do next. I thought, “maybe I should try to run marathons and triathlons?”
The triathlon part still has not arrived, but the marathon part did. I signed up for my first marathon in my senior year of college. Being a poor college student working at Starbucks for $8.50/hr, I couldn’t afford the sign-up fee of $300 for the marathon. I was paying for rent and groceries on my small wage. Fortunately, I was able to find someone to sponsor me for the race. A family friend who owns a running shoe store was kind enough to sponsor me for the race. (Shout out to Glen Kamps).
After that first marathon, I fell in love with running. It wasn’t just training for races, it was training to always be ready for races.
What I mean by training to always be ready for races isn’t about races. It’s about always keeping yourself in top physical shape. I came to learn that if I can find time to always keep myself in shape to run any race that I want, I’ll be ready for anything that life throws at me.
This lesson isn’t easily learned and easy to forget.
After I got into my rut of not running this last winter, I forgot all these lessons I had learned over the years.
When I tried to get back into running over the winter, I forgot how cumulative the entire process is. I’m not going to get back to running sub-20 minute 5Ks after a single outing. I have to commit and keep trusting my process. Progression is never obvious. You’ll never see yourself get better over a week or maybe a month. Then one day, you’ll start to see progress, but often that comes after many discouraging days.
Some may be discouraged about these heartbreaks that you may feel, but I love them for the life lessons they provide. When you’re training you learn lessons in keeping patiences, trust and consistency. When you’re in a tough race, you learn grit, endurance, and tenacity.
Running is never easy, and that’s why I love it.
Sounds like you have great outlook towards retraining. Keep it up!