On Running, Writing, and Feminine Life Changes
Photo by Fitsum Admasu on Unsplash
The Feminine Time Crunch
I set out to run a half-marathon for selfish reasons. I had no charity or worthwhile cause in mind.
The half-marathon goal arose from the fears I had about the next chapter of my life.
Scholars, psychologists, high-achievers, and the like have all spoken about the myth of women "having it all." Roughly between the ages of 28-33, you have to find your life partner, get married, birth kids, and raise said kids while committing and devoting yourself to a career you (hopefully) enjoy. To me, these life-altering, overwhelming changes encompass a fucking unattainable checklist.
I'm 29, and I haven't been handling it well. Career-wise, I haven't accomplished much (unless you include dropping out of law school and crossing off things I don't want to do). With my complicated health history, I'm terrified of giving birth. And I couldn't (still can't) shake the feeling that I'm not close to having my shit together to create and raise a family.
So, I decided to kick off the new decade by taking control over this one thing, with the hope that it would spill over to all these other areas in my life. I wanted my Brittany Runs a Marathon moment! (On a much smaller, less sensational scale.)
I would first start with the half-marathon in June, then a marathon in the fall. Or at least, that's what I had planned.
Getting back to the basics: Relearning How to Run and Ask for Help
In January, I went to the Big Peach Running Co. store in Atlanta, GA, nearby where I live. To entice you to buy their running shoes, the sales associates will record you running on a treadmill, and give you pointers on how to improve your running form. I didn’t realize this was a store perk and did no stretching to get ready for this — I simply got on the treadmill and started jogging. The associate and I reviewed my recordings. Although I thought of myself as a decent runner, my form was atrocious: I heel-struck, fully extended my legs, which causes added stress to the knees, crossed my arms in front of my chest every time I swung them back and forth, which slows you down, and my shoulders were super tight.
The man provided a few shoulder and hip opening exercises that would help with my stride and flexibility. But, it was clear. I would have to relearn how to run.
I watched tens of youtube videos, listened to running and training podcasts, and halved my running pace throughout the first few weeks of training to try to lock down the S-shape running form and to control my breath. It felt good to be a beginner at something physical again.
But, the most valuable thing I did was ask for help.
In a live conversation with organizational psychologist Adam Grant, relationship therapist and creator of the podcast, Where Should We Begin, Ester Perel asked their audience to raise their hand if they were comfortable asking for help. Some raised their hands. She then asked how many of those people were from countries in the Eastern hemisphere, and the majority continued to hold up their hands. Perel goes on to suggest that Western civilization has a culture where we’re reluctant to ask for help and have a more independent, “do-it-myself” mindset.
At least for me, this was true — I’ve always thought to ask for anything was a sign of weakness. And when I ever needed help, particularly when it comes to working out and training, I become defensive.
Throughout this process, I learned that when you’re challenging yourself beyond your skillset, it’s inevitable you’ll ask for guidance. So, you might as well do it with humility and the drive to improve. I would even take it as a bad sign if you’re not asking anything; it most likely means you’re staying inside your comfort zone.
I told my fiancé about my running goals and asked how I should prepare. As a former personal trainer, he not only bought enough protein shake powder to last us our entire life but also decided to run the half marathon with me. Although we ran on different schedules, he pushed me to run and work-out on my worst days. I asked a close friend who also happened to be training for a half-marathon for tips. She was awesome enough to send over her running schedule and was a valuable resource when I had questions about finding a marathon to run in the fall. I even asked a Nuun Energy sales rep who looked like a runner while I was in Whole Foods if she had any advice. Surprisingly, she knew almost every half marathon and marathon race in Georgia and gave great advice on the different races I should try and explained why working on my core would help me prepare.
I felt way more confident about my preparation and ability every time I asked someone it.
Running in The Time of Corona
I had been training for a couple of months before public officials began to take the virus seriously. By late February, the farthest I had run was around 11 miles at a 9:30min/per mile pace. It wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t great.
I was hoping to increase my speed over the next few months, but with concerns of the virus growing, I figured that my Hotlanta Half-Marathon race in June would get canceled as well as any marathon I would register for later in the year.
This race that I was using as a symbol of taking more control over my life was going to change, yet another change, and surprisingly I was OK with it. I think this process highlighted why the journey was more satisfying — how I felt running five times a week and tracking my progress every day was more rewarding than the result— the t-shirt and the medal. As things change, I’ve become more focused on adapting and staying in the present, what I can do right now to better myself.
Instead of the race, I decided to run a DIY half-marathon along the Atlanta Beltline (a three-mile trail in Northeast Atlanta) the following weekend before we were likely to get locked down.
Photo by Jessica Furtney on Unsplash
DIY Half-Marathon Day: Why Running Is Similar to Writing
It felt a little surreal when I did the four and a half laps on the trail. And when it was over, I felt like I picked up a few things on running and writing:
1) The Power of Compounding
Like how your money compounds, the more you invest over time: the more you work out, the stronger you become, and the easier it is to stay healthy over time. And it’s the same thing with writing. Novelist, Haruki Murakami discusses this in his fantastic running memoir, What I Talk About When I Talk About Running, chronicling his four-month journey training for the New York City Marathon:
“Fortunately, these two disciplines—focus and endurance—are different from talent, since they can be acquired and sharpened through training. You’ll naturally learn both concentration and endurance when you sit down every day at your desk and train yourself to focus on one point. This is a lot like the training of muscles I wrote of a moment ago. You have to continually transmit the object of your focus to your entire body, and make sure it thoroughly assimilates the information necessary for you to write every single day and concentrate on the work at hand. And gradually you’ll expand the limits of what you’re able to do. Almost imperceptibly you’ll make the bar rise. This involves the same process as jogging every day to strengthen your muscles and develop a runner’s physique. Add a stimulus and keep it up. And repeat. Patience is a must in this process, but I guarantee the results will come.”
Murakami, page 56
Every time I would go for a run, I would try to write afterward. And the more I wrote, the easier it became— not just the ideas I had, but also how unprecious I became with what I put down on paper.
2) Mental and Physical Symbiosis
In his recent Q&A podcast, Billions writer and producer, talks about how he writes a song every day to help him screenwrite. While he tries extremely hard to improve his songwriting abilities, he knows that no one will ever hear him sing or see his work. He recommends that people find another creative outlet that they don't want as a career to help them with the one they want to pursue. However, I think paralleling your creative work with physical activity is a better pairing. Let me explain:
Kind v. Wicked Learning Environments
Investigative reporter, David Epstein discusses in his book, Range how there are different learning settings.
There’s a kind learning environment: Where rules are well-defined, you can receive accurate and quick feedback, and learning patterns are repetitive. So, it’s easier for you to practice and improve deliberately. Or as Epstein says, “the learning environment is kind because a learner improves simply by engaging in the activity and trying to do better.”
And then, there’s a wicked learning environment: Where rules are often unclear and inaccurate, information is hidden, feedback is delayed, infrequent, nonexistent, and/or subjective. Learning patterns are usually not repetitive, so it makes it more challenging to practice and improve.
Most creative pursuits have wicked learning environments.
I often feel so lost with my writing, and I usually can’t tell when I’m improving. With running, however, the improvement was easier to track, and my results were concrete and objective, which gave me more confidence in both my physical and mental capabilities.
It seems to me it’s better to pair your creative pursuit that has a wicked learning environment with something that has a kinder learning environment, particularly something physical like running or another sport where your progress is more clearly defined.
Persevering, Especially When it Hurts
By mile 8, my ankle and calf starting giving out. I had severe Achilles tendonitis throughout training, so it wasn't surprising when I started to feel a sharp pain from my ankle going up along the lower half of my left leg.
But, after pulling over to the side of the trail and stretching for about a minute, I kept going—it even upset me that I had to stop. The pain brought back memories of pushing through 2 am dance practices and the last basketball suicide drill before you thought you were about to puke from exhaustion—it hurt, but it was great and worth it because that was part of the process.
Writing can have similar (mental) exhaustion and pain. For a while, I've tried to avoid it— writing was something I did for fun, why should it be exhausting? From running, I also realized that all the things that I've enjoyed throughout my life, those painful moments were inherent in that process.
3) The Long Game and Challenging Yourself
To persevere in both writing and running, I think you have to be willing to play the long game. Although I knew (and used) the phrase, “It’s a marathon, not a sprint,” I never took in its meaning until I started long-distance running. Before this, I figured two miles was a long-run; and writing for five years was a long time.
I haven’t even hit a full marathon yet, but after running 13 miles, I’ve reframed “long game”: Am I not just willing to write for five years, but decades without traditional publication? Am I willing to put in the work time and time again as long as it takes to move someone with a story?
Also, unlike team sports, running and writing are about setting your own pace and competing against yourself. Running is more valuable for someone starting off their creative profession because it teaches you to hold yourself accountable.
“Running day after day, piling up the races, bit by bit I raise the bar, and by clearing each level I elevate myself. At least that’s why I’ve put in the effort day after day: to raise my own level. I’m no great runner, by any means. I’m at an ordinary—or perhaps more like mediocre—level. But that’s not the point. The point is whether or not I improved over yesterday. In long-distance running the only opponent you have to beat is yourself, the way you used to be.”
Murakami, page 10
So, what was the result? I ran 13.1 miles at a 10.13/mile pace.
It wasn't what I wanted, but running long-distance has already taught me a lot more than I anticipated. I feel calmer about my trajectory and growth. And I'm ready to tackle the marathon(or maybe something more than that) when there's somewhat of normal life after the coronavirus era.
