Runner’s Achievement versus Disappointment
As I drive to the start line of yet another race, I find myself reflecting on the number of races and kilometres I have done. I estimate somewhere around 150 and 80,000 respectively, as a competitive runner.
The fascinating part of that reflection is not specifically about the races themselves but rather the prevailing sentiment I experience at the finish line: disappointment. The inherent human attachment to a number that correlates with a biased definition of achievement rather than the consideration of what was actually achieved on a given day. There is a typical undercurrent of disappointment at the finish line of a 5k, 10k, half or full marathon race despite the enormous effort it takes to push oneself, at maximum effort, to that point. A virtual chagrin to something missed or a goal not quite achieved. In my experience only a few demonstrate an authentic sense of triumph and exhilaration.
In Pursuit of the Perfect Number
The undercurrent of disappointment present at a finish line, mine and others, I assert, correlates with an expectation of ability to run a particular time. Anything greater at the finished being deemed unsatisfactory. That is, I and others have a specific set of numbers provisioned as acceptable based on training protocol, effort exerted in the race, previous results, and possibly a mixture of wishful thinking. To hit a personal best, at a particular distance, a number of factors have to roll over, like 7s on a slot machine, for it occur. Weather, the distance being raced, training experience, state of injuries, and specifically how one is feeling on that day. It is truly outstanding when all those align, and if one does sufficient races it will, from time to time, yet is not nearly as frequent as expected.
For those of us who race competitively, the goal is not merely to finish but to finish fast, often placing in the top tier of our age group or even the field overall. The irony, however is the harder we push, the more we expect, and the more elusive that perfect number becomes. Running a race at the edge of your limits is not just a physical challenge; it’s a mental and emotional one. The effort can feel as if one’s stomach is about to explode, where vomiting or collapsing into a ditch seem like reasonable options. And yet, it’s this very sensation—pushing oneself to the point of nausea—that indicates we are operating at our optimal peak level, at our lactate threshold.
The Post-Race Paradox
Yet, at the finish line, the joy of having pushed oneself to the limit is often overshadowed by the gap between expectation and reality. This is certainly present for me and have noticed in conversations with other runners. Rarely does a finish line conversation take place like:
“How did the race go?”
“It was an outstanding. I completely killed it and am ecstatic with the my time!”
Instead the response is more akin to:
“It was okay. I was hoping for a time of X but was only able to get Y. I wasn’t able to ….”
With the logic being a varied diatribe of unfilled expectations and reasoning that provides little to celebrate in the incredible achievement of covering the distance of the race in the time it took. For 99.9% of the world’s populace the achievement of competitive runners, or any racer that finishes, for that matter, is general astonishment. But for those of us who race, the number at the finish line rarely aligns with the number we had in mind, leaving us with a lingering sense of something lost.
A Reflection on the Human Condition
This post-race paradox is more than just a runner’s dilemma; it’s a reflection of the human condition. We are a species driven by goals, often to the point where the achievement itself becomes secondary to the pursuit of an idealized outcome. The consistent loss of perspective that life is the journey and not the destination is not present for most competitive runners. Of course, the author of that statement, I assert, was likely not a runner.
As I wait in the start chute of the current race, I entertain an internal conversation that I will appreciate the race, that I am not attached to the result, and that whatever I achieve I will celebrate at the finish. However, the evaporation of that sentiment begins with the countdown from 10 and has completely disappeared by the time Go is announced. As I cross the start line the pursuit of another ideal number begins with all logic of this being a journey completely forgotten in the pursuit of another destination.
