My relationship with running has been a lot like Ross and Rachel’s, off and on with lots of breaks.
The lengthy hiatuses are often broken with a decision to take on a hefty challenge before swiftly hanging back up my trainers.
One thing however that is always a guarantee is the words so often asked.
What time are you aiming for, or what time did you do?
On my half marathon race last month, I ran the only way that I can. Slow and steady.
I ran the same route as everyone else. I completed the same race, and received the same medal as everyone else.
It got me thinking…
I have never been proud of my running achievements as I never felt like my time was worthy of pride. Like it didn’t fit within the criteria of “being a runner” so I would just tick it off and not give it another thought and continue to coin myself as “not a runner”.
This viewpoint of extremity seems common. Unless we are Olympic medal winning or raising an Oscar above her head we deem ourselves not good enough.
We don’t allow ourselves to be beginners or to try something out.
To do something simply because we enjoy it even though we might not be the best in the game.
Maybe I am alone in this, but where we live in a world constantly seeking external validation I fear I am not.
Ahead of my marathon next week it inspired me to write the following…
What time are you aiming for they ask.
Like I am suddenly applying to take over Mo Farrah’s spot post-retirement.
Like I can only be a success if I hit a PB or reply with I am looking to break the land speed record.
What time are you aiming for they ask.
Like the accomplishment can only be speed and not the fact it took every part of my being to put one foot in front of the other.
What time are you aiming for they ask.
Like minutes and timings on Strava mean more than courage, grit and determination.
The battle for Kudos on an app rather than real life gratitude for our body’s achievement.
We attach ourselves to these numerical markers like that of the safety pins we used to attach our race number to our running vest. One that feels a little forced and always leaves a questionable impression.
How about we stopping asking that question.
And instead we start asking...
What inspired you to take that first step?
What gives you the motivation to keep going when the road ahead is longer than the steps already taken?
What’s the biggest thing you have learnt about yourself?
How about we simply reply with...
You should be so proud.
How about we champion someone for getting up and giving it a go?
I wonder how much of us would do the things we love without such pressure?
I wonder how many of us would start something new if the only expectation
was to simply try.
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