It's a marathon, not a sprint

Click to watch an eventful Sunday morning go down.

I ran 13.1 miles this past weekend.

That’s 12.1 more miles than I thought could ever do. Growing up, the weekly mile run in P.E. class was the bane of my existence. Every Thursday morning, my classmates and I would change into our baggy t-shirts and shorts and line up at edge of the football field. The whistle would go off and I’d sprint like no tomorrow, exerting every ounce of my energy and willpower before burning out at the first turn at the goal post. And then the rest of the run was pure misery.

I’ve always been a hare. It’s my personality - impatient, extremely competitive, quick to start things but also quick to give up due to a paralyzing fear of failure. I never had long term goals — I’d make decisions quickly and carelessly, always prioritizing speed and quantity over quality.

Thanks to Covid, I’ve had to train for this race for a whole year and a half. Simon and I would run a lap around the lake most weekends. It was a decent distance but I’d always get a faster than normal running start. I’d think about all the Olympics sprinters — Allyson Felix, Gabby Thomas, Elaine Thompson-Herah — and channel their victories into every step, pushing myself to stretch farther, harder, faster. It felt amazing flying down the sidewalk, darting past the trees… until it wasn’t. I’d double over to catch my breath as the cramps quickly set in, and lose all stamina. A few seconds later Simon would catch up to me in an easy jog, waving at me to follow along. I couldn’t.

One day, in an attempt to research how to actually get through a long race, I came across a quote that described a marathon as a 3-mile race with a 20-mile warmup. Suddenly everything became clear. I was always so used to focusing on the present I never put much thought into the long run (pun intended). A marathon meant I had to pace myself — if I go too fast, I’ll run out of gas. I needed to keep energy, patience, and passion in reserve for the miles to come, in a long run and in life.

Life consists of long-term goals that that are more meaningful and fruitful than short-term goals. If I want to succeed at something, I have to do it slowly and steadily. I need to do the work, with persistence and consistency. Don’t get distracted by others seemingly doing better than I am. Compete with only myself.

As I get older I’m making an active effort to unlearn the terrible lessons drilled into my head at a young age (“Rank number one in your class!”) and separate my true self from the personality and ego telling me to compare myself to others and seek validation for my accomplishments. As obvious as it sounds, real skill doesn’t come quickly, and focus is vital. That means accepting my limits, embracing the challenge, and doing the work, day in and day out. Become the tortoise.

Because slow and steady finishes the race.