I'm a natural runner. For my whole life I've been one of the top distance runners in my school. I've hardly needed to train to beat most people. I once put on my trainers for the first time in two months and ran for one and a half hours straight. I ran 7.5 km up a hill, turned around at the top and ran the whole way back. I just can. It's one of my natural gifts.
At first my competitive nature revelled in it. I love winning. I was unbeatable in my small country school, beating the fastest students two years ahead of me. But when I left primary school and moved to a bigger intermediate I found out that there are other people who are naturally gifted runners like me. I was no longer assured of a win, but people still knew I was one of the fastest, and that satisfied my need to win.
One of the other runners was not a natural. He'd trained. His mum was his coach, and she offered to coach me too, to unlock my potential, make me faster and better. Of course I agreed. And I liked it. She took me to weekly meets where I competed with all the other runners my age, and while I wasn't the fastest there, It made me faster than all my peers at school. Eventually my coach left the country to push one of her kids into competitive gymnastics. I switched to a different coach. I liked him. He pushed me harder and faster, and I ran harder and faster. But after a while I started noticing how the other runners were improving.They were always fast, but now they were faster, and it felt like I wasn't improving.
I was only fifteen when I dropped out of running. Still quite young. My latest competitive races hadn't gone well, and I was getting thoroughly beaten by up-and-coming runners who hadn't been training as long as I. For the last 5 years I've told myself that this is the reason I stopped. Selfishly protecting my ego as a runner. I didn't get worse at running though. It never took long to get back up to a fitness that far surpassed that of my friends and classmates. In my final three years of college I ran the school cross-country in the same age group. I ran it in bare feet and I came in the top ten every time. I knew I was a good runner. Perhaps I could have done better had I trained, or worn shoes. The course involved running through gorse infested fields, down roads, and along gravel paths. But I knew that if I did run in bare feet, and if I did it without training, I could prove my natural superiority and skill. Such is my ego.
It wasn't until recently that I realised the true reason I stopped running. I no longer enjoyed it. Running became a chore. I was putting stress on my body to reach an outcome that was not worth the effort.Well, I knew that, but I could never explain why I wasn't enjoying it as much. But now I know.
Running is a gentleman's sport. It is a true test of one of our most basic skills. Who can't run? It is easy to test, compare, and compete in. But it's two-dimensional. You stand at the start line with all your competitors, Then you run until you cross the finish line. You never interact with your competitors during the race, you never stop running, never change. And that is why I pulled out. I could not compete in an environment where I couldn't use my creativity. There was no space for personal flair, personal style, or trying something new.
Running is something I am gifted at, and I always thought that was my gift. What it really is, is the first real use for my gift. My legs are strong. It's kind of weird how strong my legs are. My cardiovascular fitness in good, but my legs have never fallen out from under me before my lungs or heart. Running is not the only thing my legs are good for. Many sports require running as a part of the play...
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