Refer to Wenyuan | the slowest marathon of my life

Reference News Network reported on November 20 (Text/Lindsay Klaus)

When I was preparing for a marathon two years ago, I ran so fast that I couldn't believe the clock and felt like I was lying.

Now, I'm a little sad as I struggle along the same route, trying to push my personal limits. It felt like a dream.

I'm not a pro, and marathons are my hobby. In the 15 years I've been running a marathon, I've improved almost every time.

A few weeks ago, I received an email confirming my eligibility for the New York City Marathon Elite, an honor I had previously coveted, but my excitement quickly turned to fear. This Sunday, I'm probably going to finish the slowest marathon of my life.

So much has happened since the last marathon and I'm not as engaged as I used to be when I train. If you're jogging alone without your watch, it's easy to overlook that you've slowed down, and I've been that way for most of the past year.

I'm 37 years old, and I've spent too much of my life believing that if I don't advance, I'll retreat. Running is a simple way to measure. I worry that any time I don't get good grades, it's not just a trough before a new peak, but a sign of regression, and I have to resist.

I'm not the only one struggling with this. Harvard Professor Arthur Brooks spoke in the Monthly Atlantic last year about what he called a "success addiction." "Although this is not an addiction in traditional medicine, for many people, success has addictive properties," he explains. "Successfully stimulating the neurotransmitter dopamine allows you to pursue more success." Psychologists call it the "hedonic treadmill," and it makes you so obsessed with success that you put success above everything, even happiness.

My "hedonistic treadmill" is also racing. It also became a symbol of my trajectory in most other areas of life: work, relationships, and health. The sense of satisfaction and pride that the ecstasy of success brings to me is real. But slowly, not only the coveting of the peak, but also the fear of the trough is equally strong.

Sometimes it feels like a race against the ghost of your former self. I've been leaving her far behind for so long that now she may finally have to catch up, and I'm overwhelmed.

I have never been more uncertain about the future than I am now. But I learned one thing. For the past two years, at almost every stage of my life, I've had no choice but to slow down — the world isn't as devastated as I feared.

Like many others, before the end of the year, I realized that the life I lived before the pandemic wasn't waiting for me on the other side. We all lose a lot. It's time to figure out what to do with the rest.

Sharan Flanagan, America's preeminent runner, is also trying to figure this out. Flanagan won the 2017 New York City Marathon with 2 hours and 26 points, and two years ago she had a double knee surgery that could end her career, but she stubbornly survived it all, and this fall she is preparing to run six marathons, each of which will be completed in three hours.

This Sunday, instead of attending the professional group, she traveled through the five districts of New York with us ordinary people, though she was still faster than almost all of us. She's 40 years old and this time her grades may be a little slower than her best, but it's still remarkable. Flanagan resumed her movement in her own way, turning the twilight of retirement into a brilliant sunset.

"I'm happier now. I slowly tried to accept discomfort. She said to me, "Took a small step back, and now it feels like it's a completely different sport." This is liberation. I don't need to meet anyone's expectations, as long as I'm satisfied. ”

I feel differently now, now it's "jogging" instead of "training". I'm healthy. I'm fast enough.

Be brave enough to accept your current state and don't try to force yourself to go back in time. Although it felt good to reach the top, eventually we would go downhill when we got the best of the spring. We will be like this now or in the future, and that's fine. My ghost may still want to haunt me, but she is no longer the opponent I have to defeat. Everything she had was mine.

On Sunday, I'm going to wake up before dawn. I'm going to walk through Central Park to show up for the best game of my life. When people cheer for me, I respond with cheers too. I'm going to cross the finish line as a winner. If I saw a ghost running in front of me, I would laugh it off. (Wang Qiang translated from the Website of the New York Times on November 5, originally titled "Running a Marathon has a Feeling")

Source: Reference News Network