Running to and from

July 6, 2020

Greetings from the purpose,

Some time ago a fellow runner offered a quote: “All runners are either running from something, or toward something.”  And then asked which category I fell into.  In the moment I didn’t have an articulate answer.  I think I said ‘neither’ which was not entirely satisfying.  Some months later the question surfaced again, and I thought long enough to better say what I meant.

It occurred to me perhaps the quote is false, that it is one of those ‘overthought’ truisms that somehow have survived runner’s conversations over the years.  Maybe it’s a good illustration that we will talk about anything to do with the sport.  From chafing to child rearing, we can connect it to running.

For the non-runner, and some casual runners, none of this might matter.  “Run, don’t run, whatever,” they think, “just don’t bore me with another story about being injured.”  Understood.   But don’t give up reading yet.

Simon Sinek’s book,  ‘Start with Why’ gave me some clues.  His approach addressed the question to organizations but certainly applies to individuals.  We know what we do, we know how we do it, but if we understand the ‘why’, the purpose behind what we do, it makes it possible to move past challenges that may otherwise divert us.  Provides meaning.  Hm.

I’ll agree that some runners, maybe sometimes me, are running ‘from’ something.  They run to lose weight, from failures, to escape responsibilities, to try to move away physically and philosophically from whatever they want to leave behind.  I’m not sure I run to escape anything, although there is a certain uninterruptible sanctuary in the act. 

And I see the perspective of running ‘toward’ something.  To accomplishments, to goals, literally to a finish line.  Or perhaps running toward some better version of ourselves.  The miles we run provide us a way to be healthier, and the time on the road is a great place to create a healthy philosophy of life too.

A couple of nights ago I sat on the deck with Sawyer and Tim, all runners, talking about training.  Sawyer, accustomed to the stratospheric weekly miles, Tim and I bound by gravity and age to less ambitious plans.  I dropped out of the conversation but listened as they talked mileage, speedwork, repeats, ladders, off weeks, tempo runs. 

Sometime in the last decade I found myself clinging less to some of these details.  I know the value of a plan; I know that to accomplish anything of significance you have to be intentional.  It is important to set some standard to achieve, to hold yourself accountable, or it is too easy to give up or be distracted by other things.  But even knowing all this, I think less of it as something separate, or as part of something I am running toward, or trying to conquer.  I have developed more of an instinctual, organic feel for my running, formed more by the ‘why’ than the ‘how’.

Yesterday morning I ran along the river.  The sun was already up, and by the time I reached the path that follows the curving water I was just past the aching and stiffness that might have kept me at home. 

As I ran, I peered through the trees and saw a man standing in the river in waders, working a rod over the water, making elegant waves with his line, long graceful calligraphy in the air.  He had no creel, no other equipment but a small bag on his hip.  I watched him long enough to see a fish strike, to see him reel it close enough to release it back into the water and then cast again.

Maybe half a mile downriver I saw a heron standing near the shore, poised still over the water, watching a small eddy at his feet, waiting for his breakfast.  Intent on his purpose.

Both were fishing, one for the simply pleasure of the act, the other to eat, to survive.  I shouldn’t speak for the heron, perhaps there is pleasure in the act of waiting and watching as well.  There is value and beauty for both fishers.  One with a specific goal, the other, an expression of something he enjoys.

The starlings wheel and whirl in clouds of living art, and I have come to believe they do it simply out of the joy of being able to.  That is why I run, to express the sheer joy of being able to.  Somehow, maybe after many years of pushing my body to run, I have found that this is one of the things I am made for.

Each of us have gifts we will connect with during a life, and we feel this exhilaration, this ‘rightness’ when we make use of them.  It is as close to knowing our ‘why’ as it gets.  I feel this when I run.  To borrow from Eric Liddel in ‘Chariots of Fire’ “I believe God made me for a purpose, but he also made me fast.  And when I run, I feel his pleasure.”

It’s likely that during a lifetime of it I have been running to, or from, something at one time or other.  But for the most part, especially now, I run simply for the experience of running. 

It may not seem relevant in this moment, but sometime today give it some thought.  Whether you are intentionally moving away from something or toward something, or if you are simply enjoying the experience, does it fill you with the sense of joy that we were made for?

Hope this finds you finding your why,

David

Copyright © 2020 David Smith