Inferiors

I don’t remember where I happened on the term, but I know I did not invent it.  Those nagging thoughts that tell you to stop doing something just because.  Because you are not good enough, you are not worthy, you are not capable, you are not whatever.  I hear them frequently while I am out there.  Sometimes during a race when I know I have not hit the goal I set they start in.  “Back off a little, you already missed it, with all that extra effort you still are not going to be satisfied at the end.  Save it for the next race.”  Sometimes in the heat (heat meaning any day where I feel mildly uncomfortable, there are rules for running based on temperature and humidity).  “It’s too hot to run.  You criticize people who run in weather like this, what are you a hypocrite?  You could really hurt yourself.  You could die.”  Most often it is on the mill [treadmill].  “Just stop, mill running is the worst form of running.  It is running you, you are not getting much benefit.  That television is irritating, you hate it, just go home and come back when there is no one here.”

These are the inferiors.  Those voices that can drive you to turn back, stop the mill, or never get off the couch.  I suspect many of the people that are amazed that I line up at my races knowing that I am never going to win, while at the same time professing to not know why I run four days a week are jealous.  I will admit that I want them to be.  Jealous of the fact that their inferiors are louder than mine.  That they let theirs win.  My suspicion is that their jealously lies with the fact that they think I don’t have them.  That they think I am somehow immune to self-doubt.  This belief that I have immunity is what keeps them trapped in a life of inactivity.  A life they secretly hate. They think they are not special.  They are wrong.

On a lot of days, yes, I don’t hear them.  They are just not there.  That is what happens when running is a habit, or, as I call it, my addiction.  The voices telling me to run are louder than the ones telling me not to.  One of the things I am thankful for is the fact that I can see things from both sides of the coin.  I was once obese.  I was once a drunk.   I was once a smoker.  I was once one of the people that had to get off the couch to make the change, and I heard them loud and clear.  Here is a secret.  I still hear them.  They say different things to me than they did when I started, but they still pester me.  Learning what to listen to is the key to mastering them.

The challenge comes with discerning the difference between hearing the voices and knowing  when you should stop.  The Inferiors are sinister.  They will voice anything to get you to stop.  Your body is the one to listen to.  The best I can say is that this comes from experience.  If you hear those voices, push through, and end up hurt, remember.  That voice was subtly different.  That was your body.  Remember when you push and do not end up hurt, too.  The difference in the voices is the key.

After you learn to tell the difference you can start to quell them.  There are various ways of doing this.  Some people just ignore them; like playing an away game.  I find this difficult.  In fact, yesterday I came to a halt during a tempo run because I was “hurting.”  I should have backed off.  At least it was not a race.    I have a difficult time ignoring them.  The way I have found is to keep it fresh.  I used to run with the same music, the same playlists.  Now I create a new one for every run.  I also try to vary my routes.  Sometimes I can tell where I am by the stains on the road.  If I was out running for time I could tell my splits by the music.  Have a slow opening mile and that makes a tough mental run.  Change the music and I don’t know the splits.  I stopped the inferiors.

I think the best tool is to realize that everyone hears these voices.  Some are so loud they are almost debilitating.  Others are quiet, others crescendo, others decrescendo, but everyone has them.  Keep running while learning to know when to stop so that you don’t get hurt.  Those of us out there every day are not any different from anyone sitting in their living room.  We are not immune.  We have tough runs and runs where we quit.  The difference is we get out there again, inferiors or not.