50 Shades of Green

As an introspective person, I’ve often thought about the importance of running in my life and how it should fit into who I am as a person and a professional. And in doing so, I’ve come up with a spectrum of runner identities.

Professional runner....semi-professional runner/professional “other”..... casual runner/professional "other"..... retired runner.

Now, as an impulsive, fast-thinker, I’ve probably experienced most of these identities over the course of a week searching for the proverbial greener grass.

The good news from my experience is that the grass is pretty green everywhere. The bad news is that there are some major flaws in all of that grass. As a professional runner, that hamstring injury is equivalent to a yappy dog taking a large crap on your perfectly manicured, already precisely (hopefully not chemically) fertilized lawn. As a retired runner, the grass was once a nostalgic and sharp Crayola “forest green” hue, but is now overgrown, in the rejected and dull Crayola “asparagus” color.

Asparagus, you are even too dull for 50 Shades of Green.

Stick with me as I outline the basics of each identity. I promise that I can only be pessimistic for a few minutes, so either speed read, skim, or skip ahead to my optimism.

The Professional Runner:

Perhaps you are a professional runner who is 30 and has pursued running since finishing up a collegiate career. It’s been 8 years of 100+ mile weeks and the money is tighter than your IT band. While your college friends are now driving Porsches, you are just worried about whether you are going to get reimbursed from your sponsor for the 2001 Chevy Impala you rented in Fargo, North Dakota for your last race. While setting an unbelievable PR in the indoor 2 mile a few weeks ago, you still finished dead last in a stacked race.

Okay, perhaps you are of the .00000000005% of runners who runs for the Oregon Project. You don’t have to worry about that rent-a-car, but if you finish fifth in a stacked race, that rent-a-car employee is just going to laugh in your face. To the public, winning is an expectation, not a celebration.

The Semi-Professional Runner, The Professional Other:

The alarm goes off at 4:30 AM followed by a string of expletives, as a tired, stiff body mechanically downs coffee and heads out the door for that 13 mile, marathon pace tempo. The sunrise is beautiful, but the mile splits are ugly. You know you could be seconds faster. If only. If only you slept more last night. If only you didn’t stand on your feet in the operating room all day yesterday. You know you are not at your full running potential. Too many damn if only’s. 

Skip ahead, a whole 3-minute shower later. You are standing in a white coat trying to keep your eyes open when you see a patient’s eyes roll behind their head for several seconds. Wow, how could you have cared so much about those precious marathon pace seconds this morning?

When you wake up the next morning for your 200s, those seconds are just as important.

Casual Runner & Professional Other:

You need something to justify your passion for running to your co-workers who are constantly second-guessing your obsession. You can just imagine them talking behind your back—how can you be so into running when you are not a slender beanpole? Why don’t you eat more you slender beanpole? How can you turn down drinks at the corporate function because your long run is tomorrow? People just don’t understand your love for the daily joy of running. You know that perhaps an accomplishment will squash the questioning. A half marathon PR is just not going to happen right now. All right, you’re going to count finishing as an accomplishment. Time for an ultra-marathon.

Retired Runner:

Oh, those glory days. You remember the times when running felt so free. Your high school PRs and your college PRs came so easily. After years and years of mileage, your body is ravaged. Those creaky hips can no longer manage proper running form, let alone proper sitting form. You’re still a fan, perhaps a coach. Kids are getting faster and running earlier. Oh, where is this sport going?

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Now that’s a whole lot of pessimism. The moral of that outline, however, is that running is hard no matter how you define yourself as a runner. The grass is not greener in any one identity--it’s simply different, so stop searching. The simple beauty of running is that it’s hard. And that it’s hard in unique ways for everyone.

The answer to embracing that struggle is to find the simple pleasures in running (#cliche), which are possible in similar ways for every runner. It’s embracing a beautiful sunrise, which every morning runner experiences, whether at 10 mph or 2 mph. It’s choosing to go to bed at 8 PM because you have a long run the next morning, whether at 5 AM or 9 AM. Mostly though, it’s just supporting each other as runners. Regardless of identity (or fluctuating identity for those impulsive folks) we are all runners. Our running stories are important no matter what, and so is our post race beer.

This has to be substantially greater than 50 Shades of Crayola Green.