When you pick up running, whether
it be as a competitive sport or a casual hobby, naturally the conversation can
shift to races. It can sometimes feel as though these race events are the
inevitable by-product or end-result of any running journey.
When I started running a year and
a half ago, I did so because my sister and I decided to sign up for our first
ever half marathon on a whim one evening. I committed to the challenge with
every intention of giving up running as soon as I crossed that finish line, but
somewhere along the way I began enjoying myself and well, here I am some time
later, still running.
Regardless of the bout of shin
splints in my case, and the obvious hardships that we willingly put ourselves
through – tempo sessions I’m looking at you! – I generally enjoyed my first
experience of training for a race.
However, by the time I signed up
for my second race, I was acutely aware from the start of the – entirely
self-inflicted yet highly palpable – pressure to beat my last time and achieve
a PB.
For the first time since I
embarked on this journey, running felt like a chore, not a choice. Even pushing
through underlying injuries and ignoring my body’s pleas for rest in an attempt
to achieve an arbitrary finishing time that I had come to define as ‘success’.
By leading with my ego and convincing myself that anything less would be a
failure, I began resenting running and enabled the enjoyment of the race day
and preparation itself to became secondary to external validation, or kudos on
Strava. So much so that even after completing the race and achieving what I’d
set out to do, I began to question whether it had all been worth it.
In the fallout to the event, I
decided to take some time to focus on how I could restore my relationship with
running to that of a positive, healthy one again. I had to decondition my mind
from the patterns of thinking it had become accustomed to. Like how my purpose
or status as a ‘runner’, albeit amateur, would certainly not diminish if I
broke the cycle of training, racing and repeating.
Or, that my time, pace or
general running stats were in fact of no lasting interest to anyone else as
they distractedly scroll down their Strava feed dishing out kudos like theres
no tomorrow.
6 months on from completing my
last race and I have found my love for running again – this time in ways that
don’t revolve around competition, comparison or PBs. I’ve trained based on my
heart rate, slowing it right down in an attempt to stay within a HR zone unique
to me.
I’ve ran trails, being careful to conserve my energy on the inclines or
avoid tripping over tree roots. I’ve ran to discover new places, stopping to
take pictures or pin coffee shops that take my fancy on Google maps as I pass
by. I’ve ran barefoot on the beach, enjoying the feeling of strengthening
different muscles and tackling unusual terrains.
All of which have taught me to
find purpose and enjoyment in running in ways not dictated by the constraining
metrics of time and pace. Instead of seeing each run as a means to an end, or
as insignificant pieces of a puzzle that fit together to create something of
importance, I’ve learnt to enjoy each run for what it is. And if along the way you see signs of
improvement, however you chose to define ‘improvement’, then that’s just an
added bonus!
