Why I let go...

I broke a finger tripping up the steps in my apartment recently. It fractured in two places. I knew it was broken immediately. And I recall the second I felt it, I thought to myself, “At least it’s not a toe.”

As the ER physio was putting the splint on my finger, I looked at him and asked, “So this won’t take me out of the marathon, right?”

He smiled widely and declared, “It’s not going to take you out of the marathon.”

He admitted to me that he was running the Sydney Marathon as well. His first! He asked for my advice. And I told him to “run your own race.” I would do well to take my own counsel. I’ve been training for this marathon for roughly a year, rehabbing an old injury in my Achilles, trying to make it to the start line without a scrape. I failed that bit, but I’ll still be crossing the finish line, thankfully. 

Here in Sydney, race week (for the marathon) is upon us, just as we experienced roughly three straight weeks of moderate daily rain, resulting in the wettest August in 27 years.

It is supposed to be dry here in August—the driest month of the year, no less—but this wet trend appears to be consistent with the dramatic increases in rainfall the city has seen just after COVID-19 hit. 

This isn’t a post about rain, but rather about running, what running has taught me, and why we can’t focus on what we can’t control.

I used to think that running was about pushing through pain, fighting hard, and of course, going fast. And to an extent, it is about these things. It is how races are won, and records fall. My fastest ever 5k was done in 80°F heat, and I was in pain the whole way. I used to be much faster than I am right now. I could run a mile in roughly 4:50, and a marathon in 2:48. Will I be that fast again? I don’t know. I don’t care.

The lesser appreciated aspect of sports, or any physical/athletic practice, is that true mastery of it (and perhaps enjoyment) is about letting go. The past, present, and the future. 

And the older I get, the more I am letting go.

What do I mean by this?

A result, an expectation, even a goal. Does this mean I don’t have hopes, dreams, or desires? No, but I don’t live with them at the front of my mind. My focus is on enjoying the moment, putting one foot in front of the other, and loving what I have, which is a life and an opportunity to experience it fully.

Whether I have a broken finger or am copping torrential rain, it does not stop me from peering outside my window and thanking the universe I’m alive and well, and that I get to experience another day, another time, and another opportunity to be present in a world I love. 

Holding onto an expectation robs me of that. And that’s why I let those go. Come what may, I love it.

Broken fingers can’t hold expectations well anyway.