Running Is {Underrated.} Yeah, I Said It!

Like many kids at my high school, I ran cross country because I lacked the prerequisite talents required to make the soccer team. And even then, I ran it primarily to get in shape for basketball. I suspect this is common across many cross country teams. Because unfortunately, we athletes (I’ll use that term loosely) have been brought up to see running as a punishment.

It’s the penalty for lollygagging on a play. It’s the grueling conditioning test we must pass before we are even allowed to lollygag on a play. And it’s the means by which we get ourselves ready for that grueling conditioning test in the first place. In sports, you cannot escape the running. It is the Russian nesting doll of sports; just when we think it’s time to play, there’s that same creepy face lurking diabolically. There’s just no escaping it.

But running is integral to most sports. It’s always there. It’s exhaustive and exhausting. It’s the prelude and the conclusion. The part we don’t practice to get better, because coach used it as a weapon against us. It was never billed as a fun skill—like hitting or shooting or dribbling, But it’s the nucleus of so many athletic activities we love.

I have always loved playing team sports. That love hasn’t faded since I started playing sports, almost 30 years ago. But in recent years, I have also embraced the underrated sport of running.

Two or three times a year I enter long distance races. Each race asks you to endure the taxing and demanding physical grind, battles that are sometimes negligible compared the psychological toll. And still, I couldn’t recommend them enough.

I am not here for rah rah motivational talks. But no matter if you are Usain Bolt or those futuristic fatties in WALL-E, you can be a successful runner.

There are countless opponents out there when I line up for a race. The hundreds or thousands of runners around me. The course. The clock. The weather (shout out to the wind for seemingly always being in my face).

Unlike in team sports, the competitors around you don’t matter very much. The biggest opponent is the only person you showed up to this race knowing. It’s yourself. It’s me.

In the months, days, hours, and seconds leading up to the opening gun, I am working to best myself. My specific opponents are the things I control: my fitness, my nutrition, my psychology, my last race, my PR. Sure, there are plenty of men and women who will finish ahead of me, but the only person I won’t stand losing to is myself.

I love competing against me.

When I run, the other runners are faceless, nameless things around me. Running is the time to be entirely self-centered, focusing on the immediate me. My breaths, my legs, my confidence, my constant gauges of the body, the remaining mileage, and the memories of being in this formidable place before and working my way through it.

Racing puts me in a weird limbo, fiercely inspecting my past self. As I wait for the start gun, I question what I did differently the last time. Dread coming up short of past selves. Perpetually wonder if I am better now than I was then. Realize there was always more that I could have done to prepare.

It gets maniacal. But iron sharpens iron, unless you are Ray Finkle.

All those internal battles are moot once the gun goes off and my feet go to work. I’ve been up and down these literal and figurative hills. I know I can do this. The hour of racing is a celebration of all my body can do because I’ve invested time and pain for it. Fueled by last night’s pasta, today’s Gatorade, and weeks of pent up adrenaline, nothing feels better than gliding over miles. And though there may be dozens running in lock step with me, the lack of other opponents is refreshing, I only have to beat me, and though every time is a little harder, it’s always just one-on-one.

So that’s why I am going for runs when there isn’t a race on the horizon. That’s why I don’t ever have to rush myself back into shape. And that’s why I am back at the office dripping in sweat, so please withdraw that complaint you left with HR. I am running to be a faster me, a more athletic me, and a better me.

Some people become their most reflective in prayer. Many while taking in, or creating art. Others with the help of professional therapists. And some, probably, in the shower. But for me, running—nay, racing—is the most effective way for me to navigate the mazes in my brain.

Whether you are looking for some inner peace, or some outer chafe, running may be the best thing you are not doing.