In a week in which the world is waxing eloquent about two greats Mo Farah and Usain Bolt, I can’t be blamed for claiming I am a runner too. 

Is one better than the other asked a friend? I don’t know if it is fair to compare. But Farah I think, I replied. There is a certain elegance to distance running that appeals to my general lack of speed at anything. I don’t run particularly fast, I don’t eat particularly quickly, I can’t claim to be a trail-blazer at anything. If anything I am slow and steady at everything I do. 

In my humble opinion,  the pain involved and endurance needed to finish off a distance run seems more a mind game than a 10-12 second sprint. There is a certain beauty to it. The long strides, the pick up in pace and the scene of the field being left behind by the champion are together nothing short of poetry. Of course Bolt is a legend and the way he has captivated the minds over the years is fascinating. I can’t even come close to understanding what it must have taken him to be at the top of his game for the last decade.

In a week when so much about running has been printed, I also wonder why I run.  I guess it’s the easiest sport to take up and yet captivating. I don’t have to compete against anyone and yet there is sense of competition – with myself. There is no technique needed. Runner techniques come in all shapes and forms. As long as you can put one foot in front of the other, you are qualified to call yourself a practitioner of the sport of running. You don’t have to be bio-mechanically blessed like a Dean Karnazes (Ultramarathoner who runs 260+ miles at a stretch) for the average weekly running in the park. And as far as running goes, we can never wake up feeling one day there is nothing more to achieve. And achievement is purely a function of one’s own efforts. Running therefore is almost an ideal form of challenge.

For the human race that is obsessed with trying to make its existence felt, running perhaps offers the best avenue to express that sense of worth without feeling obstructed by the rest of the human race. I could win a game of tennis 6-0 6-0 against someone and my performance might just earn sceptical applause wondering who my opponent was. But if I announce I ran a 21 km today with no mention of my times, the world around me in general will applaud whole-heartedly. Such is the simplicity of running. You need nothing but the ground under your feet to feel fulfilled.

And the long months of practice needed to improve one’s endurance translates into a sense of confidence that anything we stay with, whether we like it or not, ultimately makes us better at it. So I have picked up tennis with the same feeling that I am not playing against the opponent but myself. I am quite bad at tennis. But that is besides the point. Or you could look at your profession and approach it as you do running i.e. keep plodding and be satisfied in the plodding, not where you are plodding or how quickly you get to where that plodding is going to lead you. Such is the simplicity and greatness of the sport of running.

I thank my good friend (a fellow runner and a much better runner at that) for asking me who is better – Farah or Bolt. This set a trail of thoughts in my head on what I preferred and why I run. I can’t claim I have penned a master-piece, but the answer at least addresses my own wonder of why I run. 

Today I did a sub 60 min 10 Km for only the second time ever in my running history. And it wasn’t even a race. In a world that insists on comparing everyone and everything every moment, it is easier to practice contentment when you know you are  getting better at, if not anything else, running! 😉