The Unabashed Selfishness of Training for a Marathon

And Jesus isn't getting the glory for this one, either

I’m not much of one for New Year’s resolutions. January 1st is a sort of random day in the solar and lunar calendar — although after going to my first Longest Night online service this year, I’m pretty taken by the idea of the solstice declaring the death of one year and birth of another. But I’ve never done a Word of the Year or a dry January or declared that THIS year will be one where I resolve to rectify all my faults. (Though, I do remember being really excited about how great I thought 2020 was going to be, and we all know how that went down. Lesson learned).

All that to say as a caveat: I know it’s the beginning of a new year but what I’m writing about is less New Year’s resolution, more fully leaning into the things that I would joyfully like to embrace.

Damn my new hydration vest makes me look LEGIT. Also, see the glory of post-long-run hat hair.

Running as my special interest

I’ve been a runner for my entire adult life, though I never was an athlete as a kid (marching band nerds, unite!!). I’m framing it as a special interest so that you might get the sense that this is more joy, pleasure, and mental-sanity-saving than some workout resolution to get a ripped bod for the new year.

When I say I love running, I mean it. I might procrastinate getting out the door sometimes, but I usually feel happy and at peace out there. I want to know the science of it, too: what kind of runs, what paces, what rest days, what nutrition, what strength training. I will bore you if I go into it too much, but I think you get the picture.

And this year, I want to train for my third marathon. I haven’t done one since before I was married, well before I had kids.

There are a couple parts of me that hesitate. One I’ll call it my evangelical programming with a strong dash of “but a good mother…” thinking.

Is it selfish to want to run a marathon? Absolutely.

I don’t think there’s a genuinely non-“selfish” reason to do this. I can maintain a perfectly adequate level of fitness without putting my body through this. It’s going to be time consuming. My husband (who’s also training!) and I will be doing a lot of solo parenting this season while the other one is out running: a deliberate choice we’re making. We’ll miss out on time with our kids. We’ll miss out on a lot of other things we could be doing.

“Your kids are only young once!” is one of the refrains going through my head… but I know that’s coming from something that’s not me. Like yeah, I’m pretty aware they’re only young once. I already lost too many of those early months wishing that I wasn’t in those months, because I was so miserable inside. Now I look at both kids with delight and am much more able to treasure my time with them.

But I’ve never felt that my first identity was mother. Somehow, I always belong to me first.

That little voice sneaks in again: “but a good mother… she is a mother first and always.”

That voice isn’t mine.

A little part of me — a part that feels more like me, but doesn’t feel like the truest, healthiest me — still struggles with things that feel purely selfish. I don’t feel 100% “allowed” to do things that are just for me, for the pure joy of it, or for the pride (pride!! A forbidden evangelical feeling!) of the accomplishment. As if I needed justification that in order to do the things, it must be for something or someone else.

Then, even if I can feel good on the inside with the choice I’ve made, I worry about how other people will perceive it. That in a time when I’m supposed to be drowning in childrearing and not sleeping and kid viruses and the ever-elusive “being a good mother,” here I am with this audacious, privileged goal of running an absurd amount of miles all in one go. A goal made possible only by a supportive family, sufficient income to pursue such a hobby, and a strong inner streak of… selfishness.

I guess maybe I’m just trying to own that. One of my fatal flaws, or “toxic traits” as the kids say, is that I am actually selfish. I resonate on a deep level with the Enneagram Five’s feeling of avarice and greed — this fear of not having enough resources, of others gobbling up our energy, and a general commitment to needing as little as possible so we can feel self-sufficient.

On top of that, a weird evangelical-relic superstition hangs over me. I am not of the “Name it and Claim It” charismatic tradition, and it feels extremely disallowed to just decide that I am going to ___ [insert big life goal here]. It’s as if God were listening in on my squeaked-out declaration and was like “BAHAHA! Don’t you think you can make self-advancing plans. Especially if you didn’t make them for the glory of ME!”

It’s as if by declaring what I want to do, I will almost assuredly cause an injury, long Covid, nonstop viruses, and a 4-month-long sleep regression to come upon me. That superstitious feeling is really hard to shake, it turns out.

In almost every race I’ve run, I’ve seen runners wearing shirts with some version of “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.” Because of my religious baggage, I get mildly annoyed, but another part of me probably gets it on a really deep level. When you believe what they do, no gain, no accomplishment, is actually yours. It wasn’t you putting in the time and sweat and miles and pain. It was the strength of Christ.

If it helps them to believe that a Higher Power separate from them has given them the strength to run the thing… more power to them (lol, ironically), I guess? But for me, I’m going to do something that somehow still feels very audacious and declare that IT’S ME. I WANT TO DO THIS. AND I AM THE ONE DOING IT, OF MY OWN VOLITION AND POWER.

May we all find the thing that we deeply want to do or be — even when it feels selfish, even when it feels unimportant, even when we doubt ourselves. And may we find the courage to declare that we are the ones we’ve been waiting for to fully live into our lives.

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As I reflect, writing is very different from the runner’s high, but something keeps bringing me back weekly to this space — and so much of it is YOU! I love the catharsis of finding the words for exactly what I was feeling, and the connection of hearing that so many of you have felt a similar way. I’d love to hear your experiences, and about your own special interests and passions, in the comments! And if you liked this post, would you hit the little heart button? Your engagement means so much to me.