On Life and Running
I’ve become less and less interested in the mechanics of running. What once was an obsession with minimal footwear, drills and proper falling is wearing rather thin. Instead, I find the metaphysics of running—how it affects us as human beings—utterly fascinating. As it happens, running is the perfect metaphor for life itself.
Some are born gifted. They leave the womb running beautifully for miles on end, seemingly without the need for practice. Others—like myself—have to work hard to slowly build up the body and technique for the sport. Analogously, some people seem to be born with the ability to let life’s sorrows wash over them, without being drowned. They seem to have a sense of self-worth at the very core, a feeling that they are going to be ok. Others have to work hard to attain something that comes even close. However, everyone can get better, both at running and at living, no matter what your genes tell you.
Running needs to be practiced regularly if you want to keep improving. Even the most proficient athletes must rebuild themselves slowly after a long hiatus, starting far below their usual level. I think the same is true of good living. You can’t just learn a few tricks once and for all and expect them to change the rest of your life. You need to practice every day.
The hardest lesson running, as in life, is learning to relax. Don’t use more muscular force than is necessary and don’t worry about all the little things that might go wrong. I believe it takes a lifetime to get this. You also need to forgive yourself when tension seems inescapable. Self-reproach only makes matters worse.
Sometimes you have this small nagging pain, perhaps in a calf, or in the mind. Usually, the best thing to do is to keep going, making small adjustments to ease the discomfort. Usually the pain subsides after a while. However, sometimes the ache indicates a real, show-stopping injury. Then you need to step back, to rest and to heal. The trouble is telling the first kind of pain from the latter. When you come down with a soreness in the Achilles tendon, or when you wake at 4 am with anxiety—you should stop dead in your tracks. Then something has to change before you get back out there.
In running, as in life, you have good days and bad days. On good days everything flows without conscious effort. On bad days you might just want to quit. However, if you persevere, if you take it one step at a time, even bad days will start to brighten sooner or later. Between the good and the bad days are the average majority of life and running. Those days—the days which we tend to forget—are your real life.
