Today’s run: 2.5 miles, 25 minutes. YT: 80.9 m. Today’s semi-successful speedwork was really an excuse not to do a long run. Curse you, last night’s second glass of sake, you limpid, delicious fairy pool. I guess I am who I am… and that makes for a delightfully contradictory preamble to the post below.
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The transformative power of running is more than inspiration. As you move from being a nonrunner, or an occasional 3-miler, to a person who runs 10K as the stretch of a leg (or heaven help me, a marathon) you are, through discipline and diligence, literally transforming yourself. You will get thinner. Your muscles will get stronger and sleeker. You will have more energy and sleep better. And if you’re me, your hangovers won’t be as bad and your blood sugar will stabilize.
But I’m not talking about a physical transformation so much as a mental one – and yet they are so closely related it’s almost like staring into a glass of water and trying to see the individual drops.
I started my running believing very strongly that I was not meant to be a “real” runner. Or at the very least, not a distance runner. We’ve all got what the self-help crowd calls “limiting beliefs.” If you’ve always been athletic, yours may manifest somewhere else. (“I’m not creative.” “I’d never have the courage.” “I can’t work the DVD player.”) But they can be particularly powerful when it comes to exercise because these beliefs are wrapped up in our physical bodies. I remember as a child always fearing group hikes. Because I was slightly heavier than everyone else, and not particularly athletic, I thought I would be the slowest, the reddest, the huffiest and puffiest.
So guess what? I never tried to lead. I purposely brought up the rear, content with being the straggler. Or I would avoid group athletics. Years later, as an adult with a decade of regular exercise under my belt, I realized one day on a group hike that I was actually among the fittest in the bunch.
But even today, as someone running a couple 10Ks a week, I fight the mental image of myself as someone who’s most comfortable, most herself, while at rest. Even today, I have to talk myself out of that mental image sometimes to get my butt running. And, voila, I have still other limiting beliefs to contend with – such as believing there’s no fun in stopping at one, see above.
Fake it ’til you make it, people. If your body goes through the motions enough, the mind will follow.
In the meantime, what’s your limiting belief?
That I’m slow. This is a particularly tricky one because I run 90% of my miles at 10:30 mpm or more. That really .is. slow by any definition. But when I race, I regularly come in the top 30% of women, and faster than half the men. I’ve occasionally done even better than that, and I’m always left feeling slightly disoriented about what to think.
What could be more rational than to define your identity in terms of what you do most of the time, or what you’ve done in the past? Yet, running teaches you that reason isn’t as firm as you thought. Elephants can fly.
Our stories begin similarly, though I haven’t made the change you have. I still believe that I’m unathletic, awkward and slow. Although I’ve finally realized how much I love to be active, I still prefer to do my sports alone. Cycling, hiking, running. No one around to judge me. I prefer to backpack alone or with my husband because I can’t stand the thought that I might slow others down. I don’t look at other runners I cross paths with because I’m afraid they wonder what on earth I think I’m doing pretending to run. Whew! That’s a lot off my chest! So if getting better at running could change that, I’d be quite please.
I’m dealing with the slow problem too, Elodie. I’m too soft on myself because I think I’m not meant to be faster.
Sharon, wow, thank you for sharing that. I have been there! Yes, running will change you! But a friend once gave me some good advice: Be patient with who you are *now* too. Try to let the self-judgment slip away. It will help you make the transition. BTW, are you on DM? It might be awesome to find someone where you live at your level to run with.
For me, one of the transformative powers of running has been the almost complete elimination of “limiting beliefs.” It grates on a nerve to hear the word “can’t,” especially when it comes out of my own mouth. I really hate the c-word and try not to use it.
As long as one keeps expectations reasonable, and performs within the context of those expectations, there’s no reason to let those negative thoughts creep in. I’m not a fast runner either, but just getting hooked on running in my 50′s, I don’t expect to be. I expect to get a little quicker with further training, but I’m not really worried about it. Speed is so relative. Whatever your pace, you will look at faster runners and admire their speed. And they don’t think they are fast; they are comparing against runners faster than them. No runner thinks “Wow, I’m really fast!” Runners are an inclusive lot. They don’t think less of runners that are a little slower. They just admire them for getting out there!
One of the beauties of running is that it is so intensely personal. So don’t let others define you. Define yourself!
I’ve been going through the same thing with dancing. I always saw myself as a non dancer. I would never dance in public except for a handful of times with some liquid courage. When I finally admitted to myself that I loved to dance and started taking classes, I told myself I wouldn’t expect to be any good at it for years. After dancing a solo in a small performance, my dancer friends told me that I was no longer allowed to say that I am not a dancer. I still find it mind boggling. Thanks for this reminder.
Great post Sara! Coincidentally, today’s RW Quote of the Day applies quite nicely here:
“Our sport becomes not just what we do but an integral symbol — on all levels — of who we are” ~Gloria Averbuch