How to run your own race
A few years ago, I went through a spell of running marathons. I ran in different cities and historic races, such as Berlin, Boston and London. Running marathons became a thing people often associated with me, even though I regarded it as a small part of who I am.
To the point where, at the start of 2023, if I bump into someone I haven’t seen for a while, they’ll likely ask me, “How’s the running going?”.
And the truth is, it isn’t. I enjoy running. But it stopped enjoying me. For the vast majority of my life, running was something that came naturally to me. But about 5 years ago, I started feeling a strange pain in my hamstring after every run. And then for days after. Sitting became uncomfortable. Changing gears while driving sent jolts down my leg. I’d pushed the hamstring tendon to its limits over the years and it was finally biting back. It was the first time I’d ever truly been injured and unable to run for a sustained period of time.
Numerous physio sessions, treatments and strength building exercises later, it’s never quite recovered. And over that time, the realisation has dawned that I’ll likely never reach those abilities in my running ever again.
One of my goals for 2023 is to build up my running as slowly as possible to be in a position where running a marathon might be a future possibility once more. And that means running much more slowly than I’m used to.
When I was at the height of my training a few years ago, not many people would pass me on a run. But that’s different now.
There’s a silent code amongst pavement warriors as they pass each other. First, there’s a nod of acknowledgement. And usually, there’s a flash of the eyes as each runner asks themself, “Could I take them in a race?”.
In many ways, it’s natural. It brings to mind the old joke:
Two men are walking through a forest. Suddenly, they see a tiger in the distance, running towards them. They turn and start running away. But then one of them stops, takes some running shoes from his bag, and starts putting them on.
“What are you doing?” says the other man. “Do you think you will run fast than the tiger with those?”
“I don’t have to run faster than the tiger,” he says. “I just have to run faster than you.”
What isn’t as natural is to ignore the need to compare, and remember that everyone is ultimately running their own race.
“School, politics, sports, and games train us to compete against others. True rewards - wealth, knowledge, love, fitness, and equanimity - come from ignoring others and improving ourselves.”
The desire to compete is natural. It’s what kept us alive for millennia when our ancestors were roaming vast savannahs replete with predators. Competition makes sense in some scenarios. But works against us in others.
Allowing my mind to fixate on competing against a stranger on a pavement in London ignores something important. That stranger doesn’t care. They’re simply running their own race on a wet Sunday morning. I have no idea what stage of their training they’re at. Perhaps they’re a few weeks out from running their new personal best, having trained for months on end for that very moment. Maybe the reason they’re running that day is to try and forget about their partner’s terminal illness. We all run our own races for our own reasons.
(Watch 'The Runners', a short film captured in London's Victoria Park interviewing people as they run, and asking why they do it.). And here I am, just starting out again, a long way down the road from my previous achievements. And that’s ok. It’s ok to feel those natural competitive feelings, so long as I don’t always act on them and chase a stranger down the street. That’s not going to help my recovery, and it’s not going to earn me many friends in the neighbourhood. It’s in those moments that I remind myself that “it’s ok to be where you are right now.”
My race is different now. It no longer matters how quickly others are running around me. What matters is that I do what I can to stay in my race. If I keep chipping away, slowly, perhaps I’ll be able to run a marathon once again. And if not, then I’ll know that I’ve developed the perseverance to keep trying, even when the times get tough. And that feels like a race worth running, regardless of who’s passing me by.
Running isn’t for everyone. But we’re all involved in our own individual races in life.
It’s easy to look around at Instagram, LinkedIn, Facebook, YouTube, and feel like you’re not running as fast as others. Like you’re being passed by.
Maybe you’re looking at where you’ve got to in your career, and feel like it doesn’t match up to the current titles of your friends from university.
Or you find yourself living alone in your 40s after a messy divorce, while your friendship circle is filled with their offspring bounding all over Facebook.
Or you can’t quite get the hang of that advanced yoga move, but are forced to watch others in your class move into it with ease.
How we feel about ourselves ultimately shouldn’t be decided by comparing ourselves to others. It should only be weighed up by comparing the current version of us, to our former self. Are we better today, than we were yesterday?
“What the superior person seeks is in themself; what the small person seeks is in others.”
The reason why most people choose to run a marathon isn’t because they love the training. Or the pain, sweat, blood and tears of the race itself. Or because they expect to win it.
It’s because they want to feel that moment of recognition that comes from choosing a goal, and giving everything they can to get there. It comes from looking back at where you came from, to where you are now.
And in that moment, it doesn’t matter where you finish.