More than Just a Sport

I write about the highs and lows of my sport regularly on this blog. The times I’ve struggled to make it through a tough race, the times I’ve surprised myself with a faster time than I knew I was capable of, the challenging workouts, and the runners high. There is a lot to say about a sport that causes so much pain and simultaneously so much excitement and joy.

I’ve learned, though, that running is not just a sport. It’s more than stop watches, medals, PRs (Personal Records), fast heart rates, sweat, and finish lines. It goes much, much deeper than that.

This past weekend I was visiting my family out of town for a “celebration of life” in honor of my grandmother, who passed away in January. It was a day dedicated to celebrating the woman who touched me so deeply with her kindness, strength, loyalty, generosity, sense of humor, and lust for life. It was a beautiful event filled with family and my grandparents’ closest friends, most of whom they met through the running community.

These were people I have known for much of my life, but I never realized how much they could teach me. I watched as each of them came to my parents’ house, hugging my grandfather and telling him how special my grandmother was to them. I listened as they spoke about how she was their confidant, a role model for women, and one of the most dedicated and loyal people they had the honor of knowing. And as the day went on, I heard them share story after story about their running days (some of them, even at 85+ years old, are still living out their running days).

The stories shared were not about record-breaking finishes or medals earned. They were about the community that had been built out of a common love for running. This group of people had bonded over miles and miles of pounding pavement and had a sort of mutual respect for each other and all other runners, recognizing that any human who willingly stands at a starting line at 6am just to push their body to it’s absolute limit must be ~~crazy~~ worth getting to know. They just understand each other.

What was really special was that it didn’t matter which of these people had the fastest PRs or had run the most miles (they weren’t falling into that comparison trap that I’ve been working to avoid). No one cared to talk about that one race where they couldn’t make it to the end, or that time they dominated the field and got to break the finish line tape. What mattered instead were the relationships that were built and the experiences they had.

It’s funny how when you’re living your glory days of running the things you focus on most (numbers and accolades) don’t really seem to matter later in life. That’s not to say hard work and fast times don’t have any significance, but I’m learning more and more that there needs to be a balance. I could win every race there is but if I’m not happy and having fun with running, it’s not worth it. A shelf of trophies would mean nothing to me if I was miserable earning them.

My grandfather is a perfect example of someone who values the experiences he had and the people he met more than any hardware…

A couple years ago I was helping my grandparents prepare to move out of their house and into a condo nearby. I remember opening the trash can lid and being surprised and maybe a bit disturbed when I saw a bunch of my grandfather’s running trophies piled up, ready to go out to the curb. He saved some, like his plaque from being inducted into the Hudson Mohawk Road Runners Hall of Fame, but many others were tossed. I couldn’t understand how he could just throw away those awards (and he had A LOT of them, being a 20x marathoner and regular participant in local races).

I noticed, though, that what my grandfather did not throw away were his running memory books. He has several binders, almost like scrapbooks, filled with hand-written notes, invitations to pre- and post-race parties, photos, old bibs, and his own written reflections. I used to love looking through them with him when I was first falling in love with running myself.

I realized that when he threw out his trophies my grandfather was not getting rid of memories, or parts of who he is. The trophies didn’t make an impact on his life, but the people surrounding him and the experiences he had while earning them, did.

It’s easy to get caught up in performance, and I do feel that having goals and challenging yourself to reach them is important. But I learned from my grandparents and the community of people they’re surrounded by that the laughs, the memories, and the bonds formed are the things that stick and have the largest impact on our lives.

My grandmother was a very special person to all of those people who showed up to celebrate her life last weekend (and many others who couldn’t be there). The running community admired her even though she wasn’t the fastest runner of the bunch or the one running the most miles. They admired her because she was a woman who showed up, who trained hard, who supported her friends and husband, who made an impact, and who will always be remembered as a bright light in that local running community. And that, to me, means more than any finish line she ever crossed.

Running is more than a sport. It is a way to connect to like-minded people, to challenge yourself, to have fun, to make memories, and to constantly work towards becoming a better (not necessarily faster) version of yourself.

Sweeter Strides

More than Just a Sport

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