Running Outside the Box
I've always hated running. Vivid, wheezing memories of running 4-lap tests around the sandy, high school track at Cariboo Hill will forever be seared into my subconscious. It was something that I so loathed growing up, that it was a real victory to enter into adulthood, with all the freedom of choice that entails, and leave the unwanted remnants of any kind of running hobby behind on that sandy track. Given all of that, I admit to being a bit daunted and perplexed to find myself, twenty years later, voluntarily signed up to run a half-marathon.
I've been asking myself, what possessed me to take up a hobby that for years I've spurned? Perhaps it's the whole getting older thing and desiring to get fitter and have marginally decent cardiovascular health. Maybe. Perhaps it stemmed from a good friend being a runner and looking to share interests. Possible. Perhaps with the end of the dancing season, it came from a desire to have something else physical to focus on rather than spending the summer eating my feelings on the couch. Getting warmer.
While it is likely some combination of all the above, in large part, I feel it arose from a desire to push myself outside my comfort zone. To run up to the walls of that box we put around our life--the sameness and safety of our routines and what we think we know about ourselves--and to run right on past them.
A recent Freakonomics podcast featured Kevin Kelly, co-founder of Wired Magazine, bestowing kernels of wisdom. Bits of advice he wish he'd known when he was younger. And a couple bits stood out to me, in particular because I happened to be running at the time and musing on why I was actually running.
"90% of everything is crap. If you think you don’t like opera, romance novels, TikTok, country music, vegan food, NFTs, keep trying to see if you can find the 10% that is not crap."
Kevin Kelly, co-founder Wired Magazine
It struck me that for twenty years I had fixated on the 90% of what was crap about running--how boring and monotonous it is, how it sets my lungs aflame, how I could imagine a thousand other things I would rather be doing. But that I had never really tried to find that 10%. How often do we get set in our preferences, shaped from an early age when we may have been more motivated to stick with what we seemed to have an aptitude for? For there were our peers and teachers and family and our own nascent identity and sense of self-worth to be considered. But could there be latent pleasures to be found? I wondered about how often we break off a new potential hobby, or just not even try it at all, because we can't open our mind enough to see what we could gain from the experience.
Which lead me into thinking about another of Kelly's kernels of advice:
"At a restaurant do you order what you know is great, or do you try something new? Do you make what you know will sell or try something new? Do you keep dating new folks or try to commit to someone you already met? The optimal balance for exploring new things vs exploiting them once found is: ⅓. Spend ⅓ of your time on exploring and ⅔ time on deepening. It is harder to devote time to exploring as you age because it seems unproductive, but aim for ⅓."
Kevin Kelly, co-founder Wired Magazine
I could recognize in myself the fixation for most of my life on deepening, continuing to build upon interests I'd established as a child--dance, music, photography. As adults, I feel it's often the case that if we don't think we could potentially demonstrate mastery, or at minimum competency, at something we try our hand at, it's not worth pursuing. But the importance of exploration rings true to me. Not only because it has the potential to broaden horizons and uncover hidden gems, but also because I think there is value in sitting with a bit of uncomfortableness. To being ok with the uncomfortable fact of not being terribly good at something for awhile. And maybe that you will never be terribly good at it.
It got me thinking about why it is we're drawn to the hobbies that we are. And I do wonder how much of it is because we happened to be good at them. Barring actual aptitude in this case, I've been very consciously considering what it is I might enjoy about running (searching for that 10%, so to say). I have yet to experience the so-called "runner's high" (though apparently research indicates that that may actually be somewhat rare). But I have managed to surface several things:
I love planning, and race training requires quite methodical and meticulous planning of schedules and running distances.
The nerdy former academic in me appreciates the research that goes into learning about a new hobby--reading about running technique or diet for instance
There also can be a social component to running, which I've come to enjoy--my friend and I have taken to running together weekly, giving a dedicated time to catch up
Being able to explore the city--running around at the crack of dawn through empty streets can be a beautiful way to see where you live
The actual physical challenge of it is strangely appealing. Getting into a kind of "can I survive it" headspace. I remember experiencing a similar sensation the first time I tried rock climbing in Thailand 15 years ago. Staring up at the rock face and wondering if I could tackle it. Similarly, as I see the kilometres increase week by week, I enjoy pushing myself to see if I can reach that next kilometre
planning and record-keeping for race training
While the act of running itself still isn't terribly pleasurable, I have found there are things to explore and to enjoy. And so, I will spend the next four months preparing for this, once inconceivable, half-marathon. While I will probably curse a pantheon of deities as I slog through the approximately 3-hour race, I hope I will cross the finish line feeling fulfilled. Not because I ran terribly fast (or even the entire way), but because I ran towards something different.