I love running. I hate running.
Repeat as necessary.
Over the past couple of months I’ve played at being a runner. And as much as I struggle with definitions, believing that no one can be simply characterised by their choice of exercise or transportation, it’s as good as any to define who I am. But to be comfortable with the moniker it needs to be earned. I need to run.
And there’s the rub. I don’t want to.
There’s an oft-tweeted motivational saying that you’ll never regret a run but you’ll always regret skipping one. But at the moment I’m not only not missing them I’m actively finding reasons not to go. So far my list has varied from the good: I need to make sure I get to work on time and I’ve overslept. The average: I’m tired and Game of Thrones is on. And the bad: I just going to watch these two flies circling the lightbulb. (Yes, I’ve actually done this. I’m not sure my vision will ever be the same.)
If procrastination were a sport I’d certainly have an Ireland vest. I’d probably not get off my arse to go collect but you know, it’d be there if I needed it. My energy output avoiding anything remotely considered to be exercise far outweighs the output it would take me to complete said exercise.
My denial has exceeded the numerical scale and I have entered a realm previously known only to Donald Trump. But, as anyone who’s attempted a 12-step plan will attest to my first stage has to be acceptance. So here it goes.
Bombshell
Gary takes time out to indulge in the one thing ultrarunning justifies: lots and lots of food
Hi. I’m Gary and I hate running.
Now don’t get me wrong, I love what running enables me to do. I love being able to move relatively quickly through the countryside, climb mountains, see things in a day that would otherwise take a week. I love that I’ve met some of my best friends through running and through them been introduced to more. I love the community and the fact that the simplest of propulsion methods can unite so many. I love the peculiar vernacular we employ, words that mark us with a common band. But running itself? Meh.
Motivation is a peculiar and personal thing. A simple Google brought up books, blogs and articles by the dozen. All worthy I’m sure but all entirely personal. One person telling another how they motivate themselves. How they find their mojo. But I’m not looking for their mojo. I’m looking for mine. So though simple tricks may work to distract they’re never long-term solutions. For that I need a change of mindset and to do that the fundamental issue needs to be addressed. All the suggestions were based on extrinsic motivation.
For me running was a way to spend time inside my head. Finding a quiet time to still the business of modern life. I rarely needed outside distractions or bling to motivate me to get out for a run. Though I complained and moaned like only a middle-aged man can, I knew that it was all for show. I loved it and I thought it loved me back.
But for some middle age also brings discord. Changes in circumstance beyond our control. And like a loss in love I also lost my desire to run. And though extrinsic trinkets and distractions occasionally have their use to kick start or re-ignite a habit, they’re not the basis for long-term motivation. At least not for me.
But I’ve come to the realisation that a loss of form, or a loss of motivation, isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Every race I’ve ever done has contained highs and lows. Times when I was euphoric, when my running felt effortless and I could go on forever. And times when I wanted to beat myself to death with my own legs in an effort to make it stop. When I conjured up reasons to quit without shame, turning over in my head how they’d play on Twitter or Facebook. But I recognised them for what they were. Periods of time that would pass. And this too will pass.
I run to reduce the stress of modern life. And to allow more stress to creep in by worrying why I’m not running seems rather counter-intuitive to me. So I’ll take each day as it comes. If I fancy getting out for a jog I will. If I don’t then I won’t. But most importantly I’m determined to enjoy what I do and not regret what I don’t.
Because what’s the point otherwise?
