I'm Only An "Average" Runner, But Here's Why I Keep Going

Sports were never really my thing growing up.

I played soccer from when I was in Kindergarten up until the age of 11. I was never the star player, and my coaches only ever said I was "okay." Cue the participation trophies. Then, I tried out tennis for a while. I went through all the motions, struggled with a backhand, and finished off my summer classes not making much of an impression.

And then, running came into my life. I loved it- the thrill of racing, the sense of accomplishment I felt after going for a long run, the team spirit. It was the perfect sport for me- no balls or bats, just me, the pavement (or grass), and my own thoughts. I really felt I had found my place. And at first, I was pretty good at it. In fact, I was one of the best girls on the team in middle school.

Being "good" at running was, at times, my justification for doing it. I mean, I wasn't good at anything else, and enjoying it was just a bonus as far as I was concerned.

Participation!!

When I was in high school, things started to change. I held on for dear life to the tail end of the girls varsity cross country team- everyone was getting better, and I felt like I was plateauing. Some races, my coach would put me on the varsity team. But if I let my position slide just once, I was back to Junior Varsity. I distinctly remember one instance where he told me and my teammate running in front of me midrace that "only one of you is going to States, now's your chance to decide who that's going to be." I was constantly trying to prove myself as something more, but time and time again I came up short (and ended up getting terribly injured in the process).

This is where my mental and emotional battle with running began. I was constantly grappling with feelings of inadequacy as a runner. I made every success that my teammates had into a failure of my own. When my best friend who was pegged as a mid/short distance runner ran the two-mile for the first time ever, she beat my personal best by a landslide. I had been working on that personal best for three years. I was proud of her- I really was. But it served as a staggering reminder of my own performance- that no matter how hard I tried, I would never even come close to being the best.

It's moments like these that made me question why I put in the miles- why I even bother to compete in the first place. Shouldn't more than a decade of being a runner (who trains, who races, who takes it relatively seriously) be enough to make me better than average?

I still deal with these feelings today. Being on my club team at University has given me a space to grow individually, while still providing me with opportunities to compete. But sometimes I see my teammates earning trophies and medals, and I wonder why my long-term commitment to this sport hasn't rewarded me in that kind of way.

For the most part, my team at University lets me leave my tendency to compare myself to others at the door. But still, I sometimes question why I invest so much time and both mental and physical energy into running if I'm not seeing what others might deem as "results." This is what makes being an average runner so frustrating and difficult. This is what makes so many people quit competing, or at least think about quitting (myself included).

I figure that the solution to these moments of self-doubt and crippling inadequacy would be to stop comparing myself to others. But realistically? We're runners. We compete. And competition only exists through comparison. So maybe the solution isn't necessarily block out the noise of other's successes, but to come to the understanding that while competition exists, it isn't always what matters. What matters more is reflecting on your own successes and using those to drive you forward.

Next week, I'll be competing in my second half marathon ever. And so I've been reflecting on how I performed, and how I felt, running my last one. The first word that comes to mind? Euphoria. That feeling of adrenaline and pure joy. I had a feeling of satisfaction from knowing that I trained all summer to be able to run what I thought was a fantastic time.

Most of all though, I'm proud that I continue to be an average, run of the mill, nothing special runner. And I still run. Not only that, but I still compete when I can because I love it. In many ways, I think it takes a lot more out of you to be committed to something that you're not necessarily naturally good. It's easier to stick with a sport or hobby if you're the best at it, but it's not so easy when everything is working against you.

So here's to the average runners. The ones who churn out miles and run races and never win. The ones who work hard, put in the time, and stay passionate despite not seeing results. We keep going because we love it- we crave it- and because even the greatest moments of self-doubt are long forgotten by the time we cross that finish line.

This average runner will be running the Royal Parks Foundation Half Marathon this Sunday. I'm trying to raise £400 for Teach First and I need your help to get there. If you have anything to spare, I would appreciate any contributions. You can read more about why I'm running for Teach First and send in your donations here.