The Four Types of Runners
“There are four types of runners,” stated Patrick, my close friend, and training partner. I forget which year this was, thousands of miles have passed with us in lockstep, stride for stride, passing hours in discussion.
With a friendship this seasoned there’s a shorthand, a reference to past debates that move conversations forward more quickly. In our case, this is “The Running Matrix.” A “2 by 2” as it’s known in the business world, for laying out two spectrums against each other.
Every runner fits onto two different axes depending on their fondness for running and racing.
People who don’t enjoy running or racing
People who enjoy racing but not running
People who enjoy running but not racing
and
People who enjoy both running and racing
Though a bit simplistic, once you consider runners through this lens I’ve found it provides an easy way to understand other runners.
“First, there are the people who don’t enjoy running or racing. This is actually most people.” Patrick explained the fairly evident reality of the running world.
For most people running sucks.
It’s painful, time-consuming, and unenjoyable. Sure they’ve run at some point, and might again, but in general you don’t find them out enjoying miles.
Relatedly, possibly correspondingly, many people also don’t enjoy running races. It’s difficult to imagine loving racing if you never practice running, but these racers do exist.
On an early Thanksgiving morning I noticed there were few parking spots available outside the local Turkey Trot race gymnasium. “Everyone’s a racer on this holiday!” I remembered. As I hopped out of my car, with a $20 bill in hand for my entry, I noticed a man perched up against a signpost outside the gym, taking long slow drags of a pre-race cigarette.
“Whatever gets you ready I guess.” I chuckled, then nodded to him as I walked past. Certain races pull people from their regular routines and get them moving again. Whether it’s the community, the general excitement, or to settle an annual bet, many people love to race even if they don’t love to run.
This type of runner might be mistaken for the slowest among us, but that’s hardly always the case. I’ve known former D1 All-Americans, even major marathon champions who put in thousands of miles a year during their peak, who promptly put away their trainers once their competitive days were done.
“I didn’t really see the point in running if I wasn’t preparing for a race,” I heard a past champion remark. Who can blame them? Again, running is often painful and inconvenient. If competitive fire was what got these runners out then no amount of proselytizing will compel them once meaningful competitions are in the past.
The opposite type of runner loves to run, but hates to race. I suppose I understand this as well. For many people the movement itself is more than enough. With little or no need for competition on the roads, they make time for miles for the pure enjoyment.
I’ve known some runners who nearly always vomited before races due to nerves. These puke sessions didn’t engender much love of footraces, so they either learned to calm their anxiety, or walked away from competition entirely.
Someone in the running industry admitted to me during the pandemic that races being canceled was actually somewhat of a relief to her.
“I feel like I’m not supposed to say that I don’t like racing, but I don’t like racing,” she confided. The intensity of it all isn’t for her, which is understandable except within the confines of the running world where eagerness to compete against yourself or others can be assumed.
We’ve seen some of these people thrive coming out of 2020 as they were able to focus on what they enjoy most for a year. Though many found inspiration to train lagging without starting lines, for those who don’t enjoy competing it was a relief that freed them to focus on their true love of running.
And then, finally, there is the fourth quadrant, those who love both running and racing.
These are the people most often thought of as Runners. They rarely see reason for an excuse to train, and sign up for the next race without hesitation. Though this much exuberance sounds insane to some, scores of runners fit the description. They train year round and race whenever possible. They’ve made time for miles over years and have a finisher’s medal collection that could crush you.
An important point to The Runner Matrix is you don’t have to have the utmost of both enthusiasms to succeed in the sport. In fact, too much of both can often overwhelm the eager athletic body. These athletes risk so aligning their identity with training and racing that burnout and breakage occurs when the other parts of their identity are eclipsed.
“Yeah, you can allow it to totally destroy you. And you’ll do so willingly, thinking it’s the best thing for you, and it’s really not,” David Laney remarked in a recent podcast. Laney has at times climbed to the peak of training and racing, but other times he’s gone too far.
Many have succeeded who love to race and put up with heavy training.
Many have thrived who adore mileage and occasionally coax themselves to a starting line.
And many have excelled who are all in on both and at times are able to keep their body and mind healthy enough to perform.
As I watched the Olympic Trials last month in Eugene I realized that although it’s thought of as the pinnacle of the sport, truthfully I assume there were runners there competing who live across the spectrum of The Runner Matrix. The workhorses and the race day heroes.
“These days, the races with the most pressure, that’s what guys like us live for,” remarked Woody Kincaid in his post-race Olympic qualifying interview. Maybe he was right, or maybe he was projecting his own view onto others. The man is famous for saying he felt awful the day of some of his most memorable performances. But when the gun fires he’s alive. I could see how it would help, on a stage that intense, to absolutely adore racing.
But I bet there were others who adore race day nerves less, who came down from their quiet altitude camps, endured the performance chaos, and became Olympians despite loving competitive conflict less.
It’s been illuminating to understand the running world in this way because it helps me see others with less judgement and appreciate their performances with relative ability. Each of us lies somewhere on these spectrums, it’s on us to come to terms with where we are, where we want to be, and what it will take to maximize our ingrained strengths.