Running is an imaginative act.
It is a physical act, too (of course). When people claim that running is 10 percent physical and 90 percent mental, I like to remind them that, 100 percent of the time, we use our legs.
But it was impressed upon me—in listening to the reflections of the runners who competed well at the Olympic Trials—that they had all done the imaginative work that permits one to perform at a high level.
Dakotah Lindwurm (3rd place, now Olympian) disclosed that she told her freshman year roommate about her Olympic dreams, while a walk-on in a Division II program. She had a vision and pursued it over many years.
Sara Hall remarked, “I want to make this team more than ever before…In my dreams, it’s how the story ends.”[1] She had fixity on that hope—of making an Olympic team. She chose and acted in light of the possibility of that hope. It didn’t come true, but she had her highest placing in her 8th Olympic Trials, at age 40, placing 5th.
Jess (Tonn) McClain knew what she was capable of—top 10, or maybe top 5. She placed 4th. While few people anticipated she would perform as well as she did, she was not surprised because she had already envisioned it.
They were all imagining big days. They were telling themselves stories of triumphs and writing themselves into those stories. Of course they trained their bodies. But running is as much a work of the imagination as it is of the body. It’s the stories we tell ourselves about what we are doing as we put on our sneakers to take fast steps—needless steps—away from, then back to, our front doors.
It’s the wondering we do about how fast we can run, where the trail goes, and how long we can endure. These works of the imagination are a critical part of running. They are a critical part of a human life in general, and certainly a part of running.
I think that is what has made it so hard for me to think about racing in the last couple of years. I can get the training in. I can schedule running into the small spaces between obligations, and often the miles add up to something substantial. But the imaginative work of training—the wishing and the wondering—is crowded out by the busyness of daily life. Maybe you can relate?
I also don’t think this is just a busyness problem. I think this lack of wondering is characteristic of a broader phenomenon in the Western world—a crisis of attention. We fill empty spaces with noise. I watch my students enter classrooms with their phones, exit with their phones, and walk across campus with their phones. They are always consuming content and confuse consumption for productivity.
I wonder whether they leave any space for the imagination—for wondering, aspiring, and examining. These things are part of running, but they are also part of what it means to be human.
Training Update
It is race week…perhaps.
The last time I wrote, I said I was training for the Holiday Lake 50K++. I have been excited about this race since I first committed to it. I love the people there, and I really want an adventure day—if for no other reason than just to feel like myself again. I have been training hard to make it happen.
For the past year, I have been running consistently, so I had a solid base. In this block, I ran 5-6 weeks above 80 miles with key long runs—a 22-miler and 18-miler, with a few double days that totaled 16-18. For me, that is a manageable load. It is a good amount of training, but not so much that I can’t absorb it. I feel the same in an 80-mile week as I did, pre-kids, at 95 miles.
Last week, I started to notice a nagging tightness in my heel. Or, more accurately, on Christmas, I noticed a nagging tightness in my heel. (I guess there have been signs since Christmas…No, YOU need to take rest days.) I was running in New York and slipped wearing light trainers during a hill workout. My foot arch pulled a bit, but it was fine. I can only recall a couple of times I have felt it since. I forgot about this until last week.
Well, now it is an acute issue, and not a cute issue. I took two days off to rest. Then I resumed running but carefully. I am off to the doctor tomorrow to get it looked at. I want to race badly. But I don’t want to lose my spring and summer by pushing to the point of injury. I have a very important title to defend in April, racing the 5K at my toddler’s preschool fundraiser.
Last week in summary:
Miles: I have no idea. I stopped tracking because of my foot.
Bike workout: I like to warm up for 5 minutes, then do 3 minutes hard/2 minutes easy for 70 minutes. It feels like I have done something. Sometimes riding a bike feels like I am just *spinning my wheels.*
Resting heart rate: 39
Lectures taught: 9
Visiting lecture: 1
Office hours: 6
Meetings: 2
Paper submitted to journal: 1
Pancakes: I don’t know. One billion.
Podcast interviews: 1 (Thanks, AJW!)
In future substacks, I will talk about my book. But that’s all for now.
[1] Gault, J. At Her 8th Olympic Trials, Sara Hall Ready to Step on the Podium. LetsRun.com. 24 January 2024. Web. Accessed 12 February 2024.
So enjoyed reading this. Thank you. ✨
I’ve noticed the mental business of everyday life taking its toll. I’m a Physical Therapist and see patients every 30 minutes without a break in between, and I’m often documenting during my lunch. The constant mental engagement is exhausting, and when I do finally make it to the end of the day, or even the weekend, there isn’t much energy left to have an imagination. I’ve discovered that doing yoga on my lunch break, even for 15-20 minutes is enough of a mental reset. I’ve tried to find more ways to take breaks where my body is occupied but my mind is free, in addition to my morning runs, but there is only so much time in the day.
Glad you’re getting the foot looked at. As you discovered from the informal online survey, there is a lot of varied information on how to treat plantar fasciitis, if that’s what it even is. Kind of like a training plan, it’s best to choose one focused approach and stick to it instead of trying everything there is all at once, and sometimes it helps to have a “coach.” I hope you have a speedy recovery.
I love the weekly tally at the end, especially of bagels, pancakes, etc consumed.