below is an article from runner's world that i really liked. we are a society of instant gratification...want to check your email? it takes the press of one button on your iphone (or in my case, palm pre), want to watch your favorite tv show? don't worry it's DVR'd, fast food, express lanes at the grocery store, cliffs notes, 7 day detox...and while i enjoy some of these conveniences to their fullest (especially the email and DVR) i have to admit, it creates this expectation to get results fast with very little effort. this mentality is a key factor to losing motivation when it translates to our diets and exercise plans. i completely agree with mr. bingham that it's consistency that counts for our health in the long run. but then again, i've always been a fan of marathons over sprints...enjoy!
THE BUTTERFLY EFFECT
Small things we do add up to make us who we are as runners
By John Bingham
Image by Kim Rosen
PUBLISHED 12/21/2009
Editor's Note: After nearly 14 years at Runner's World, John Bingham—perhaps better known as "the Penguin"—has decided to move on. We're grateful for all he's done for RW, and we salute him for inspiring countless runners. John personifies the idea that people can change their lives through running. We wish him the very best in his new endeavors. Below is the final "No Need For Speed" column John wrote for Runner's World.
I am not a physicist. I am a writer, runner, and recovering bass trombonist. But that doesn't stop me from thinking that I understand physics. I've read about a concept called "The Butterfly Effect." The definition goes something like this: Small variations of the initial condition of a dynamic system may produce large variations in the long-term behavior of the system. It suggests that a butterfly flapping its wings in Hong Kong can eventually affect the weather in Kansas. Cool, huh?
It got me thinking about how small variations or changes in our lives can have unexpected long-term effects. I used to be an overweight smoker who didn't exercise, but small decisions over the years—like going for that very first run—have produced large variations in my long-term behavior, helping me become the 45-time marathoner I am today.
That transformation didn't happen overnight. It didn't happen after one run, though many of us expect just that. We think that every run needs to produce some immediate benefit. Whether it's supposed to make us faster or build our endurance, the effects of today's run are supposed to take effect, well, today.
I think that's why many of us like to sprint the last quarter mile of our daily run. We like the feeling that comes from a hard effort. It feels like we're accomplishing something. (By the way, that final sprint at the end of a run is a good way to pull a hamstring. Trust me on this.)
What I didn't know then was that there is a Butterfly Effect in running. It isn't the grand gestures and epic achievements that make us runners. Sure, running for 30 minutes nonstop is great. Qualifying for Boston is great. But that's not ultimately what makes you a runner.
It's the little things we do every day adding up over time that matter. It's not just running one morning; it's getting up morning after morning and running. It's not just eating better at one meal; it's making better decisions at every meal. It's the small decisions we make almost without thinking that make us runners.
The lesson from today's run may not be important right away. Learning you're more comfortable wearing a long-sleeve shirt even when it's not that cold out may lead to the best race of your life years later. Learning that you shouldn't have eaten the Firebrand Salsa on your nachos the night before a long run may mean a marathon PR somewhere down the road.
It may be a function of aging, or it may be a function of maturing as a runner, but knowing I don't have to squeeze significance out of today's run has made running much more satisfying. Today's run might just be a run. I take it in as a point of data on an elaborate matrix. I don't try to assign a meaning to it. I have faith that somewhere, sometime, it will matter.
I run now with enormous confidence that I am doing something good for myself. I run understanding that I may never know where the winds of some running epiphany started. And I run understanding that not understanding is all right.
This will be my final new column for Runner's World. I'm not retiring, just moving on. I'd like to thank Amby Burfoot for giving me the first opportunity to write and David Willey for continuing that vision. I'd like to thank a series of wonderful editors for giving life to my words. Finally, I'd like to thank each of you for the privilege of entering your lives each month. You have given me a gift that I can never repay.
Waddle on, friends. Forever.
No comments:
Post a Comment