It goes without saying that the coronavirus has taken a toll on everyone in one way or another. It's had a significant impact on people's professional and personal lives, especially those who have been infected, have had financial struggles, or have had a family member or friend lose their life because of this awful disease. My heart goes out to those folks. Since almost everyone in my social circle is a runner (surprise, surprise), I've had several of my friends tell me that their running has slowed down over the last year in light of the world shutting down. They feel sluggish, they aren't running as fast as they were pre-pandemic, and sometimes they simply don't enjoy running like they used to. Their feelings are justified. It's not fun when you're steadily becoming a faster runner and you feel good about your performance, only to have it shuttered by negative psychological factors that drain you of motivation and energy. When my girlfriend brings this topic up to me, I listen to her and resonate with her feelings, but I always end the discussion with the same affirmation: I look her in the eye and tell her "It doesn't matter if you're super fast or not. You're a great runner, and that's what counts". She understands, however when I said this to her recently, I got a different response than the usual nod of agreement. She looked at me like I had a huge zit on my nose. "What do you define as a 'good' runner?" she asked. Very good question, since I clearly don't think that just because someone is fast, it means they're a good runner. So, in my twelve years of running every distance from a 5K to a 100-miler, this is the conclusion I've come to in terms of what it means to be a "good" runner. The "Liam Philosophy", if you will.
Good runners don't needlessly beat themselves up when they have an off day. Off days happen, rough races happen, and guess what? DNF's happen too, my friends. I completely understand that it's normal to be frustrated with one's self when they aren't at their best. That's completely okay. But being mean and degrading to yourself is not okay. A lot of runners struggle with this, and honestly, I'm no exception. Throughout my running career I've gotten better at not psychologically abusing myself and understanding that I can't be at my best all the time. Think about professional sports, especially hockey and basketball, where the teams play multiple times per week. They're not going to win every single game. We would all love that for our home teams, but it's just not realistic. The fact that every team loses games validates the fact that the players cannot be at their best twenty-four seven. Most dedicated runners lace up their shoes and throw down at least four runs per week. That's an average of sixteen runs per month, two-hundred and eight runs per year. Uh, hello! You're not going to have your best run all two hundred and eight times. Same goes with races. Some races will feel tougher than others, and some will go unfinished. When runners have a bad race, their minds automatically focus on what went wrong and how they can prevent it going forward. That's the right attitude, but sometimes there is no clear cut and dry answer. Some days we just don't have it. Sometimes we just have to say "you know what? It is what it is. I had an off day. I can't be at my best everyday" and leave it at that. Easier said than done, but it's the truth. Just because you have an off day doesn't mean you aren't a solid performer.
A good runner knows their limits. Sure, sometimes we make the mistake of pushing our bodies too hard which results in puking, cramping, injuries, or in extreme cases, even soiling our shorts. Good runners learn from those mistakes. They listen to their bodies and know when they need to back off so they don't self-destruct. We've all heard "those" people who say things like "if you're not puking or if you don't need to be carried away from the finish line, you didn't push hard enough". What a load of horse manure. As I said, mistakes happen, but good runners know when to take it easy so they don't consistently assume the role of vomit boy or girl or poo themselves just to finish that half marathon two minutes faster than their current PR. I would much rather finish a race feeling strong with a smile on my face and be able to walk away to have a celebratory beer. That beats the hell out of running the race ten minutes faster, puking everywhere, collapsing at the finish line, and yelling like I'm in labor before being carried away by medical staff.
A good runner knows how to be patient. You're a six-minute mile runner, you can run an eighteen-minute 5K and a two hour and forty-minute marathon. That's awesome and it certainly deserves massive kudos. But, can you run slowly on purpose? An early running mentor of mine back in Chicago recommended that instead of trying to run at lightning speed all the time that I try running at a slow pace instead. He said that by doing so, my fitness would improve. And it sure has. If I go running alone, sometimes it's nice to throw down a thirty-minute four miler, but it is also important to be able to run at what I like to call "ultra pace". Ultra pace is between twelve and fifteen-minute miles, and is the ideal pace for me to maintain while doing a fifty-miler or 100K so I can sustain my energy levels and get to the finish line. I practice running ultra pace for four, five, or six mile distances regularly with my friend Byron, who is new to running. Being able to run ultra pace on purpose, even for short distances, not only improves my fitness, it also teaches me to be patient. I've been on several group runs where we've started off running together at a modest pace, but the fast guys quickly grow impatient and tell everyone that they're going to push ahead and that they'll see the rest of us later. Distance running is a mind game. When I do a long race, I have to cope with the fact that I will be out there for a while. The best way for me to do that is by teaching myself to be patient. This means running at ultra pace, even when I want to go faster.
Good runners are the master of their own reality. They don't compare themselves to other runners. They don't try to out do others simply because they have something to prove. Friendly competition is okay, but good runners don't let other people get in their heads and they don't obsess over how their performance compares to their own. What it all boils down to is that every runner is their own unique person. Everyone has their own unique physical attributes, their own talents, and their own personal stuff going on outside of running. In other words, we are who we are, we aren't anyone else. There will always be people who are better runners. I know damn well that there are countless people out there who are better runners than me. I don't fight it, I accept it. They may be better, but they're not me. They don't have my life. Athletically speaking, good runners would rather be themselves than anybody else. We're all the master of our own universe. We do us, and everyone else can do them. The bi-product of this is that good runners celebrate other people's success rather than think of them as schmucks because they perform just as well or better.
Finally, good runners know that they can't have all four of the above qualities pulsing through their veins at all times. We can't be at our best all the time, remember? What I do is I remember these four principles and I hold myself accountable to them. All runners know subconsciously that they are good runners even though we all have to check ourselves sometimes. Because let's face it; if we didn't know deep down that we were good runners, we'd just throw our running shoes away and give up when things become difficult. But we don't. We keep going because we believe in ourselves, and that's what counts.
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