Flight & Fear

An attempt at a succinct equation for our sport

Running is a simple equation – the pursuit of flight in the face of fear.

It’s a struggle against gravity and ego.
The first is simple, yet frequently confused.
The second is innate, yet often ignored.

Running is flight.
It’s pushing up against gravity repeatedly.

It’s settling into a pattern of arm swings, knee drives, and heel flicks, while attempting to forget all that – clear your mind – and lose yourself in flight.

Of course, this pursuit gets complex as you approach your apex. As oxygen is tight, hydrogen spikes, and muscles begin to scream. Even adding the discomfort of heat, sleet, inclines, and wind resistance would only be an exertion, except that…

Running is fear.
It’s standing tall as waves of uncertainty and insecurity crash back.
It’s thinking that you’re too slow to sprint and too weak to let yourself jog slowly.
It’s standing at a start line, hoping for success, while already obsessing the moment you may fail.

And it’s wishing others luck while secretly hoping that they’ll join you in disappointment.

Running is staring down the uncertainty of an effort for so long that you can’t tell which is worse, the discomfort of the distance or the weight of your expectation.

Pushing to your limit means facing not only gravity, but also the fear of actually giving your all.

Cause what if you do?
Facing the terror of trying your hardest means losing yourself in the effort, body a mess, mind spent, and ego exposed, only to finish and have to face the cold truth that that was everything you had.

Please resist the urge to allow ego and uncertainty to spoil the sport.
Cause running isn’t some boogie man waiting to jump out and trip you.
It’s just flight and fear intertwined – a space you make to experience the world in motion.

I learned, through years of trying, that my only path past pressure was through.
The only solution to my self-doubt was acceptance.
I grew so tired of feeling afraid that I faced it.
Embraced it.
I practiced acknowledging my fears so often that race day arrived with an ironic ease.

Don’t overthink the flight or ignore the fear.
Accept the turbulent beauty of the sport that we adore.

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— Lessons I’ve learned —

This is the first in what hopefully will be an ongoing series of posts aiming to succinctly capture lessons I’ve learned from the sport. Coaching allows me to see the running from new perspectives, and inspires me to articulate elements of those lessons that I’ve learned over the years.

If there’s something you think I should write about, please let me know! No guarantee that I’ll dig in, but I’m always curious to hear what strikes other runners as interesting.

Cheers!
Peter