I am, uh, very slow. When I'm out running and think I've got a nice clip going, someone inevitably glides past me going much faster with much less effort. But I have only ever competed against myself (I only started running 4 years ago) and I feel good about my effort if I'm faster than the race before. Then again, I have only every been deliberate about my training one time. Usually my schedule is - please run this week so that when you have your race, you don't pass out and embarrass yourself. So talent-wise, I am not an athlete (my sport growing up involved a 1000lb athlete doing the majority of the work) but I still feel proud of myself if I finish what I set out to do.
This one hits home for me. I was blessed, and still am, with enough base athletic ability to have been decent at many sports but never really great at any of them. Which is mostly down to the fact that though I worked hard for the team, I didn't do the hard work for myself when it came to practicing on my own. Or at least not enough. This was also applicable to academic work - university was a real wake up call for that.
But since I've started running again, and really running this time, something has definitely changed. It used to be that I ran cross country to stay in shape for other sports and running was always just a thing to do, rather than a thing to work at. Now that it's becoming a thing to work at and to purposefully train for, I have been finding that my mindset has started to shift and I'm making peace with the sense of "wasting my talent".
I haven't wasted my talent at all, but it's very easy to get into that way of thinking. I still play soccer competitively and I'm not terrible, but I'm just not as good as I could be. Even then, I am still improving as I age and the comradeire of a team sport is valuable to me.
Anyway, thanks for this post Paul, and the newsletter in general. It's been an excellent addition to my reading as I continue to work on my running and find the wins that come from it.
First of all, thank you for making another book recommendation. I am in the middle of both Endure and Born to Run and they have been inspiring; can’t wait to read Peak. A quote (paraphrasing mine) in Born to Run from the other day stuck with me, “Make friends with pain and you’ll never be lonely.” Seems appropriate given the topic of today’s entry.
My demons are run of the mill and stem from being both fat and a late bloomer in high school. As a result, my nascent athletic prowess is less of a missed opportunity than it was a crib death. I waited until my junior year to harness my bulk in pursuit of shot put glory. Getting a varsity letter was fun and I loved being on the bus with the team, but I still wish I hadn’t waited so long to join and feel like those extra two years could have been something special. Ah well. I’ve come to terms with it at this point. There are enough other demons lurking in the closet of my grey matter to keep me on the hamster wheel of shame for the rest of my adult life without fretting over my teenage dirtbag years. Maybe I have made friends with that particular pain - others I am still not on speaking terms with!
Now, at 33, I finally feel like I am building towards something. With the help of whatever algorithm was used by the app that determined the plan I am currently on I am finally beginning to see split times I would have never thought possible. It isn’t much, but seeing meaningful gains of any kind has been a buoy during these cold gray days. It makes me excited to get out every morning and puts the (friendly?) pain I often feel after in perspective.
I hope everyone else is getting out there and “making friends.”
I try to stay away from motivational quotes and cliches as much as possible, but one quote that stays with me is “endurance races are a microcosm of life.”
What I feel and process through running, I find, I often apply at work. Your point of there being a complimentary relationship between excellence and meditated execution, and how one cannot exist without the other, is something I had felt in my bones but could not verbalize up to this point. I got so excited that I shared this article with my entire team.
If I may be so bold, I would love to read your thoughts on the word you mentioned in this article, “torture.” :) This word speaks to me too, and I just wish I’m not a crazy person trying to connect the dots between the torture you put yourself through and loving yourself.
As a kid, I decided I wanted to be on my elementary school's "city olympics" team, which was basically an open track meet for kids from elementary through high school. I was in elementary school, so young enough to be aware of the idea of competition (and losing/winning) but not old enough to understand anything beyond that. Up until the boys starting catching up with me in high school, I was always one of the tallest kids. Middle spot, back row of school pictures. This meant that not only was I clumsier but I was often much slower, with no discernible athletic talent and terrified of being the kid whose fault it was that the team lost. I was given the last leg of the 4x400 relay. Well, I trained as much as a 3rd grader could and wouldn't you know it, I came in dead last causing our team to come in last. It was painful because it was everything I feared. Later toward the end of high school, after being the kid afraid of team sports, I discovered that instead of being a self-esteem crusher, running could be a confidence booster. And I could do it without others' (perceived) judgement.
I lived abroad in college and was on my host university's cross country team/running club. I was a middle of the pack runner, could hold down some tough legs of meets, but never won anything on my own. It was OK because we were in it together. One meet we ended up winning a case of beer for having the male runner with the slowest time. I mean, go us???
Anyway, improvement in distance and speed and time and all of that came with the one thing that I have always known to be a very specific character trait of runners: persistence. If I ever feel down about how slow I've been or how heavy my legs feel or if I'm just flat out exhausted, one thing that I know is that I will persist. I'll get out there. I'll give it the most I possibly can give. And I can certainly be proud of that.
Ha, If only! Again, persistent is really what I am. I’m definitely going to be breaking any landspeed records but I get out there, like most of us, because we love to. It’s a release and something we can not only be proud of but something we can call our own.
This one hit home for me too. I am athletic and was decent at running, but I was never the fastest on my cross country team. And I originally chose cross country (and track though track I did mostly to stay in shape for cross country. track sucked - so boring!) to avoid mandatory PE (if you played a sport, you didn't have to take PE in my high school). But, I was decent enough that I lettered as a freshman, but once I didn't have to do sports anymore, I basically stopped running. I only picked it up again as a way to maintain some fitness when I wasn't doing other sports. I only started to really get more invested when I discovered trail running (and when my son showed a real talent as a runner such that in order to participate with him, I had to up my game). And I found that the more I was invested and the more I enjoyed it, the better I felt about pushing myself and getting more out of my talent. And I legitimately shocked myself by seeking out winter runs, but besides getting some exercise, I really have come to see it as a part of who I am.
I am, uh, very slow. When I'm out running and think I've got a nice clip going, someone inevitably glides past me going much faster with much less effort. But I have only ever competed against myself (I only started running 4 years ago) and I feel good about my effort if I'm faster than the race before. Then again, I have only every been deliberate about my training one time. Usually my schedule is - please run this week so that when you have your race, you don't pass out and embarrass yourself. So talent-wise, I am not an athlete (my sport growing up involved a 1000lb athlete doing the majority of the work) but I still feel proud of myself if I finish what I set out to do.
Speed is nothing but a number!
That's what it's all about. Bet you're faster than you think
This one hits home for me. I was blessed, and still am, with enough base athletic ability to have been decent at many sports but never really great at any of them. Which is mostly down to the fact that though I worked hard for the team, I didn't do the hard work for myself when it came to practicing on my own. Or at least not enough. This was also applicable to academic work - university was a real wake up call for that.
But since I've started running again, and really running this time, something has definitely changed. It used to be that I ran cross country to stay in shape for other sports and running was always just a thing to do, rather than a thing to work at. Now that it's becoming a thing to work at and to purposefully train for, I have been finding that my mindset has started to shift and I'm making peace with the sense of "wasting my talent".
I haven't wasted my talent at all, but it's very easy to get into that way of thinking. I still play soccer competitively and I'm not terrible, but I'm just not as good as I could be. Even then, I am still improving as I age and the comradeire of a team sport is valuable to me.
Anyway, thanks for this post Paul, and the newsletter in general. It's been an excellent addition to my reading as I continue to work on my running and find the wins that come from it.
Thanks for the kind words. With you on school work too. It took me until college to figure out how to study.
First of all, thank you for making another book recommendation. I am in the middle of both Endure and Born to Run and they have been inspiring; can’t wait to read Peak. A quote (paraphrasing mine) in Born to Run from the other day stuck with me, “Make friends with pain and you’ll never be lonely.” Seems appropriate given the topic of today’s entry.
My demons are run of the mill and stem from being both fat and a late bloomer in high school. As a result, my nascent athletic prowess is less of a missed opportunity than it was a crib death. I waited until my junior year to harness my bulk in pursuit of shot put glory. Getting a varsity letter was fun and I loved being on the bus with the team, but I still wish I hadn’t waited so long to join and feel like those extra two years could have been something special. Ah well. I’ve come to terms with it at this point. There are enough other demons lurking in the closet of my grey matter to keep me on the hamster wheel of shame for the rest of my adult life without fretting over my teenage dirtbag years. Maybe I have made friends with that particular pain - others I am still not on speaking terms with!
Now, at 33, I finally feel like I am building towards something. With the help of whatever algorithm was used by the app that determined the plan I am currently on I am finally beginning to see split times I would have never thought possible. It isn’t much, but seeing meaningful gains of any kind has been a buoy during these cold gray days. It makes me excited to get out every morning and puts the (friendly?) pain I often feel after in perspective.
I hope everyone else is getting out there and “making friends.”
Oh man, pain is such a deep and interesting issue. I plan on writing more about it in the future.
TRUTH.
I try to stay away from motivational quotes and cliches as much as possible, but one quote that stays with me is “endurance races are a microcosm of life.”
What I feel and process through running, I find, I often apply at work. Your point of there being a complimentary relationship between excellence and meditated execution, and how one cannot exist without the other, is something I had felt in my bones but could not verbalize up to this point. I got so excited that I shared this article with my entire team.
If I may be so bold, I would love to read your thoughts on the word you mentioned in this article, “torture.” :) This word speaks to me too, and I just wish I’m not a crazy person trying to connect the dots between the torture you put yourself through and loving yourself.
That's a good one. Going to think about it some more. My relationship with pain is very catholic. That's cool that you shared my piece. Thanks!
oh god, complementary/complimentary... this bothers me and i'm gonna run it off tmr.
As a kid, I decided I wanted to be on my elementary school's "city olympics" team, which was basically an open track meet for kids from elementary through high school. I was in elementary school, so young enough to be aware of the idea of competition (and losing/winning) but not old enough to understand anything beyond that. Up until the boys starting catching up with me in high school, I was always one of the tallest kids. Middle spot, back row of school pictures. This meant that not only was I clumsier but I was often much slower, with no discernible athletic talent and terrified of being the kid whose fault it was that the team lost. I was given the last leg of the 4x400 relay. Well, I trained as much as a 3rd grader could and wouldn't you know it, I came in dead last causing our team to come in last. It was painful because it was everything I feared. Later toward the end of high school, after being the kid afraid of team sports, I discovered that instead of being a self-esteem crusher, running could be a confidence booster. And I could do it without others' (perceived) judgement.
I lived abroad in college and was on my host university's cross country team/running club. I was a middle of the pack runner, could hold down some tough legs of meets, but never won anything on my own. It was OK because we were in it together. One meet we ended up winning a case of beer for having the male runner with the slowest time. I mean, go us???
Anyway, improvement in distance and speed and time and all of that came with the one thing that I have always known to be a very specific character trait of runners: persistence. If I ever feel down about how slow I've been or how heavy my legs feel or if I'm just flat out exhausted, one thing that I know is that I will persist. I'll get out there. I'll give it the most I possibly can give. And I can certainly be proud of that.
tracey, sometimes i think you are sandbagging about how awesome of a runner you are. ;)
Ha, If only! Again, persistent is really what I am. I’m definitely going to be breaking any landspeed records but I get out there, like most of us, because we love to. It’s a release and something we can not only be proud of but something we can call our own.
This one hit home for me too. I am athletic and was decent at running, but I was never the fastest on my cross country team. And I originally chose cross country (and track though track I did mostly to stay in shape for cross country. track sucked - so boring!) to avoid mandatory PE (if you played a sport, you didn't have to take PE in my high school). But, I was decent enough that I lettered as a freshman, but once I didn't have to do sports anymore, I basically stopped running. I only picked it up again as a way to maintain some fitness when I wasn't doing other sports. I only started to really get more invested when I discovered trail running (and when my son showed a real talent as a runner such that in order to participate with him, I had to up my game). And I found that the more I was invested and the more I enjoyed it, the better I felt about pushing myself and getting more out of my talent. And I legitimately shocked myself by seeking out winter runs, but besides getting some exercise, I really have come to see it as a part of who I am.