Run Your Own Race

A number of years ago I took up running to get rid of some post (post) college weight. Under the long-distance coaching of a dear friend, I slowly worked my way up to a 5k distance, then increased my speed, then moved from a treadmill to outside and ran my first 5k race. Now I aim to run at least one, sometimes two, half-marathons a year. It’s an amazing journey to look back on. I’m pretty sure the version of me that took those first, tentative steps would never believe where I am, now.

I’m still incredibly slow, and will never win anything, in my age group or otherwise. Some days I wonder if I’m actually getting slower. I was an athlete as a child, and I regret not taking up running sooner, when my body and age weren’t working against me. Recently I’ve added in Barre and Yoga for weights and flexibility (again, the aging thing), and I'm a tiny bit obsessed with both. But it’s running that keeps me moving forward, literally. And I’ve learned over time to embrace my pace. As long as I keep putting one foot in front of the other, I’m happy with where I am.

During the height of the pandemic, I worked from home for eighteen months. On a macro level, this didn’t bother me. I’m a giant introvert, I was perfectly able to do my job from home, and honestly, home is my favorite place to be. But as a daily (weekly, monthly) reality, my regular 8-10 hour workdays quickly turned into 10-14, seven days a week. It was a lot. I was mentally and emotionally exhausted. During that time, my nearly daily morning runs became my favorite time of day. Some days, it was the only time I got to be outside. It became something truly meditative and restorative.

Since that time, I have returned to the office, but I have done my best to maintain these (almost) daily runs. They continue to be meditative, and I have started to notice a deep connection between those runs and my writing. As I turn my intentional brain off, I'm able to work out plot points, character arcs, dialog and more. And it reminds me of the need for discipline. One foot in front of the other. Get up, lace the shoes up, hit the pavement. Butt in chair, pen in hand, words on page. The only way out, as the saying goes, is through.

There’s so much about running that connects to writing, or really any kind of focused work. It doesn’t require much, but you have to have the right equipment. You have to work at it over time; no one jumps into running and runs a marathon on day one. Sometimes you have bad days, but you have to keep showing up, for no one but yourself. Nobody cares if I show up for my run tomorrow, but me, no matter how many post-run photos I post on Instagram. No one cares if I write anything today, but me. The commitment is to me. The discipline is for me.

The night before my very first half marathon, a good friend who had been there before pulled me aside and gave me some critical advice: “Start slower than you think you should. Everyone else is going to try to dash forward, and they’re going to regret it around mile eight. Start slow and run your race. And most importantly, have fun!” The next morning, as we lined up (so to speak; anyone who’s done this knows it’s more of a group crush towards the front), the local college women’s basketball coach gave a pep talk over the loudspeaker. “Run your race, no one else’s,” she reminded us.

Those words stuck with me and got me through to the finish line. I think about them every time I get ready to run a race, whether it’s 13 miles or 3. And I try to remind myself of them at work, as I write, in anything I set out to do. Life’s too short to waste time comparing your first draft to someone else’s finished product. A 12-minute mile and a 6-minute mile are the exact same distance. So run your race. Be as proud of every step it took to get to that starting line as you are of getting to the finish. And most importantly, have fun while you’re doing it.