“The only good race pace is a suicide pace, and today looks like a good day to die.”
- Prefontaine
I wonder why I like to run. Most times it’s about going fast, I like to see how fast I can go but going fast means pain. The faster you go, the longer you go: the more pain you have to endure. I like testing how much pain I can endure. I must admit, I don’t like enduring alot of it. It’s far too easy to ease down, to take it slow and to tell myself “There’s always another time. There’s always a tomorrow.” The self help guru in me whispers “Perhaps that’s the difference between the successfuls and failemptys” - Sometimes I succeed.
Running is simple, it’s a road, shoes and feet. One foot over the other, again and again and again. Whenever the pain gets too painful, I scream, howl and insult myself inside. I tell myself it’s only a kilometer more, or only until that bend there, or until I pass that red car. When I exhaust these cajolings, I start to bargain - it doesn’t matter whether it’s God or the devil I make the deal with - whoever keeps me on that road in that pace, I’ll sell my soul to him. When deals too don’t help - I finally give in but I’ve learnt to not stop, I’ve learnt to go slow.
Going slow is hope, to stop is the death of hope. To stop is to admit I’ve had enough. What is there to be had enough of? if I hadn’t stopped I’d still be running.
I sometimes wonder if it’s the same for all runners, from what I read it is. We all feel the same fears and bear the same agony. The fast runners are those that bear it longer. Why do they bear the agony? One of the reasons must be that it’s more painful to give in to the pain and slow down than to bear it until the finish line.
“Sometimes I wonder if pushing myself to the limits is really worth the pain I have to pay. All I can say is it better be.”
- Prefontaine