Performative Masochism and Internal Narratives
“It’s a 2000 ft gain in less than 2 miles, it’s gonna hurt so bad…”
“Halfway through the burpee broad jumps are when you really start to wonder why the f*&k you’re doing this to yourself…”
“I hit mile 20 and just think to myself ‘Don’t suck these last 6 miles’...”
In our line of work, Dr. Ethan and I are privy to the musings of many different types of athletes- and I can’t help but notice that there’s been an uptick in the type of discourse many of our patients lapse into when talking about their competitive events.
As someone who’s lost, regained, and lost running more times than I can count in my adult life and is currently unable to run and fairly limited in my own ability to climb, hike, and strength train…I can’t help but wonder if these folks choosing to see what they’re training for as something inherently negative — something to be conquered — isn’t missing the plot to a large large degree.
Sure, most athletic endeavors will involve some degree of physical discomfort. And I’ll even grant you that there’s a fairly cavernous delta between the Cocodona 250 and some easy rope flow at Wash Park- but the pain/discomfort can’t be the focal point of the experience. Or maybe it can, but even then it ought to be what you can learn about yourself in going through the pain and discomfort. In that sense, athletic events become a prism for reflection and self-discovery- a crucible in which one deepens one’s relationship with themselves.
When I think about what competition, training, and general activity ought to be for what keeps coming up is this thread of relationship/connection. To individual friends/family, to a larger community, to nature, to childlike excitement, to risk, to the meat suit you have the privilege of residing within for 80 or so years.
When we view our movement disciplines as things we need to pour willpower into to overcome/win/dominate/prove ourselves…I fear we’ve already lost. As Liz Gleadle frequently talks about, “Happy people move differently”. An athlete terrified of losing status if she doesn’t hit a Boston qualifying time will have a different internal state than one who’s arrived ready for the challenge but ultimately detached from the outcome. This shift in internal state will bleed into the movement system. Minds, workouts, and bodies become more malleable, more adaptable. And, paradoxically, it’s often these athlete that tend to thrive in high-pressure competitive situations over the long haul.
What’s your own internal narrative when you think about your upcoming race/event?
What’s your self-talk like during a tough workout?
What frame do you choose to put your physical practice in?
Stay Learning, Stay Moving
Dr Tim