I have taken a lot of flak for bashing on the sport of triathlon as a money sport populated by rich elitist pricks. But there is a sport that is the antithesis of triathlon. This is distance running. Distance running is not a prick sport. It is an everyman sport. It is the perfect sport.
You don't need money to be a runner. There is no fancy bit of equipment you need to buy. You can spend a lot on the shoes if you choose, but it won't buy you speed. In fact, as author Christopher McDougall has pointed out, the shoes may actually harm you more than they help you. Running is a sport where people have competed and won in just their bare feet.
There are gimmicks in running just like any other sport. You can wear compression socks, arm warmers, and a nifty GPS watch that tells you how far you have run. But none of these things seem to actually make you run faster. Running well is not about what you buy but how many miles you put on the road.
Distance running is the most egalitarian of sports. The top ranks of distance running are peopled by athletes from two poor countries--Ethiopia and Kenya. Here in the USA, we have the almost mythic blue collar runner who competes on hard work and guts. A glance over the history of the sport reveals the legendary Steve Prefontaine who lived in a trailer and tended bar while training for the Olympics. You have Boston Bill Rodgers with his floppy hat and garden gloves. In the modern era, you have throwback runner Brian Sell competing while also working part time at Home Depot.
These guys aren't wearing Speedos. They aren't competing on $5000 bikes. Distance running is just a basic sport. You don't need expensive equipment. You don't have to have an expensive gym membership. You don't need to wait for that gym to open in the morning. Running is always open except in a hurricane. You just step out the front door, and there you are. Running is just you and the road.
Running is cheap. Running doesn't care how much money you make. It only cares about your work ethic and your mileage. Runners are also humble. This happens in an egalitarian sport where you not only compete against living competitors but against history as well. In the USA, runners aspire to be like their gritty heroes from the 70s and early 80s who competed on high mileage, beer, and pizza crusts dipped in mayonnaise. Being poor is seen as a competitive advantage because it makes you hungry to win.
Ultra running takes running to an even tougher level by hitting the trails and the deserts and extending the distance to soul crushing levels. Yet, the top competitors in ultra running are guys like Anton Krupicka who may spend part of the year living out of his truck or 60-year-old Marco Olmo, a blue collar Italian who beats competitors half his age.
These guys are skinny, but they are tough. They don't give a fuck that you have an MBA and drive a BMW. Money and status vanish at the starting line. The thing being tested is not your net worth, but the character it takes to run lonely roads and trails mile after mile in preparation for the event. This is purity.
Not everything is perfect in the running world. Despite being tough, runners can be a whiny, grumpy lot. This is because of injury. Runners get injured. Talk to any runner for any length of time, and you will hear of blisters, black toenails, sciatica, plantar fasciitis, iliotibial band syndrome, stress fractures, shin splints, and on and on. Runners are either injured or dreading future injuries. The irony is that the runners who whine the loudest are the ones who run the fastest. Every runner is a crybaby pussy almost as an act of defensive pessimism and humility. Then, the gun goes off, and these self-confessed cripples take off like the resurrection.
Runners walk the knife edge between peak fitness and injury. There is something admirable about an athlete that will put in 100+ mile weeks but says stuff like, "I hope my knee holds out for the race." That is humility and an acknowledgement of limitations. Yet, runners push those limitations. Running is one of the few sports where the old timers are often as admirable as the runners in their prime.
Running is not just a sport but a lifestyle. It isn't just something you do when you are young but something you pursue for a lifetime. You get slower as you get older, but runners look forward to birthdays because it gives them the chance to compete for age group records. Some might laugh at these geezers, but it is hard to mock a 70-year-old who can run a sub-3 marathon. The rest of us will be playing shuffleboard and wearing Depends at that age.
Running is a tough sport. Almost anyone can do it, but it is painful. Training and racing is often a crucible of torture. This isn't surfing. This is suffering. Running is elemental in its simplicity but complex in the varieties of pain it inflicts. From the wall of the marathon to the lung searing kick of the mile to the utter emotional despair of the ultra, running is hell. To be a runner is to be intimately acquainted with pain. It takes a certain level of masochism to be a runner, but there is joy in that suffering. Runners spend a lot of time in their heads. They learn things about themselves. Running has a way of clearing away the bullshit. Training is like meditation. The body pumps out endorphins to ease the suffering. There are depressing lows but unbelievable highs as well. It is introspection and mysticism. The hardest part of running is not so much the physical as the mental. Runners spend a lot of time with their thoughts.
Triathlon is flashier. Golf is less painful. Bowling is more fun. But running is almost the perfect sport. It is cheap. It is always available. It will get you in unbelievable shape. It will build your character. It will humble you. Plus, you don't have to shave any body parts. You can do it for a lifetime, and it doesn't matter if you are rich or poor. You can start anywhere, but where you finish is all up to you.
In life I’m a loser, I was born poor, as I am still poor now. I run to revenge myself.
MARCO OLMO
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