We instituted a new policy last week on the North Star Track and Field team. Athletes will need to wear their sweats to at least warm-up in. After that, do what you will. Anyone who has EVER participated in, been involved with, or seen high school sports will recognize that awesome, cotton garment seen above. Now this policy is not unique to our team, but it is a change and is meant to build some collectivism among the group. As is the case with any teenager, there was some rough going.
When the policy went into effect, there was a two day grace period for these teens to get their collective acts together. The sprinters were all over it. The throwers could have gave a damn. The jumpers just went along with the sprinters. But you know who had the hardest time? My freaking long distance runners. They were as ticked off as something (fill in your own old timey or farming metaphor). Their team sweats seemed to be the only thing that they DIDN’T want to wear. Most have come around by now, but there are some stubborn hold-outs. The point being, is that this reaction got me to thinking about one of the many oddities of runners in general. A lot of “true” runners consider running to be the “purest” sport. Let’s be honest, it is. But do you LOOK the runner life or do you LIVE the runner life?
Imagine being a non-runner hanging out with a bunch of runners. What do they talk about? Upcoming races, shoes they just bought, the latest in training ideas or technology, the fairness of a particular course, PRs, blah, blah, blah. Think about how inane some of this stuff sounds. At yoga the other morning, a large group of people were talking about their long runs in prep for the Lincoln Full or Half Marathon. Look around at the start of any race. Flashy shoes, flashy clothing, flashy technology. It might be expensive, but it is not hard to look the part of the runner. Give me a pair of minimalist shoes, a tech tee, a nice jacket, a pair of jeans or track pants or 3/4 tights and voíla! Runner. I am guilty of this as anyone. Just the other day at practice I debuted a new pair of plaid split-leg shorts. They are awesome and in my opinion they look pretty good (if anyone from Brooks reads this thing contact me re: modeling).
Now every culture has their “look”. I am most familiar with the running, surfing, and mountain looks. Looking out my window right now, I see neither surf nor mountains. But I have stuff in my closet that reflects my passion for both. For some of it the functionality is sweet. But I really do take satisfaction in how they look. Does dressing in this manner bring me that much closer to that particular pursuit? One of the things that bugs me most is when I am out at the local market or just getting some random errands done, and I see someone who is wearing workout gear but obviously did not just get done working out (or maybe did not workout that hard?). Despite the fact that I enjoy feedback on the site and I put my thoughts out there, I view my running pursuit as something deeply personal. When I see someone updating Facebook, or Twitter, or wearing something out and about I really try to avoid judging someone based on that, but I just can’t help it.
I think every runner, maybe everyone, does this. They see somebody roll by in a certain brand and wonder if they are walking the walk, or maybe just talking the talk? Lookin’ or livin’? Is that Saucony jacket really needed? Are you actually going to use all of those bottles on your belt? We are on a bike trail, not sure you need that GPS going. Too much spandex. Or not enough? Let’s face it, in anything we do we want to at least look the part. I wear a tie to teach in at least four days a week. I love my down jacket. But because I look like a teacher (or a mountain guy, or a whatever), does that indicate I live like one?
How about that for a loaded question? What does it mean to BE something? That is the question I am trying to get at today, albeit in what is by now seeming like a very circuitous route. Anyone can look like a runner. What does living like a runner entail? Might be getting up at 4:00 in the morning just so you can watch a marathon on the internet. Waiting to see the limited coverage of Millrose Games on television without checking results on LetsRun could be part of your weekend plans. Reading Jack Daniels’ book cover to cover and understanding what the heck he is talking about. Being comfortable enough to wear short shorts in public and not worry about the comments. Being aware of every single trail in your area. Having named runs. Foregoing that extra slice of pizza or glass of beer. Going after that extra slice of pizza or glass of beer. Having different training shoes for different conditions and/or types of workouts. Knowing your splits for a given race but forgetting birthdays of friends. Leaving a social gathering because you have to get your miles in the next morning. Filing away every recipe you can that sounds healthy. Subscribing to Runners World, Running Times, TrailRunner, and something else that looks good on your coffee table. Knowing how much further running in lane two is. Living like a runner entails all of these. Living like a runner entails none of these.
Does it really matter?
To a certain extent, how you live is important (who gives a hoot as to how you look). Living right is meaningful because that is part of the process of becoming a better runner. Becoming a better runner involves seeing what your potential is and improving yourself as a human every damn day through the sacrifices you make and the work you put into that process. To me, that is one of the most special things when it comes to what running might be about. Seeking the truth of your potential and making yourself better everyday, no matter how you look doing it.