"every run is a work of art, a drawing on each day’s canvas. some runs are shouts and some runs are whispers. some runs are eulogies and others celebrations. [dagny scott barrios, author]
as athletes, our progress is often measured by time, distance, pace, goals, yards, turnovers … anything that could possibly be objective about our sport is used to determine how “good” of an athlete we are or might be. but what about the subjective pieces — what about how you feel when you’re plodding through a quiet forest trail and the only sounds are your rhythmic breathing and the leaves crunching under your feet; or how your opponent smiles when you congratulate them after an impressive performance; or how you and your teammate just “connected” to make a pass that seemed to defy physics? what about how your dog thinks you are the best human ever for taking him on a hike; or the excitement when your kid nails a new skill in tae kwon do after weeks of practice; or the self-pride when someone unexpectedly sends a text to say you’re doing a good job?
sports are objective. but that’s not what makes us good at them. and that’s not what makes us enjoy them. and that’s not what keeps us coming back for more.
runs that SHOUT feel loud, bold, full of energy. you’re ready to take on the world, whatever it throws at you. runs that whisper teach us patience, gentleness, persistence. runs that are eulogies acknowledge what has been, and help us to find peace with something difficult. runs that are celebrations are what keep us going — it’s what we strive for: that breakthrough, the freedom, the joy.
but we can’t have one without the other. we can’t be entirely objective, or entirely subjective. we can’t be entirely joyful and never sad or struggling. if we always shout or whisper, that becomes our norm, and there becomes no distinction between the two — no way to really emphasize one or the other.
challenges make us work harder. setbacks make us more resilient. riding the roller coaster of emotions is what keeps things interesting. i recently talked with one of my athletes who said she was “feeling blank” before races … i proposed that maybe it’s an opportunity to write her next page. when you turn the page in a book, you don’t forget what happened before, but you read on to find out what happens next. similarly, in sports, all of our training, races, games, setbacks, accomplishments — they all influence what comes next to an extent, but you are the one in control of your canvas. YOU get to write the story. YOU get to decide how the past is going to influence your future. YOU get to determine if you want to shout, whisper, eulogize or celebrate.
we can’t always control what happens to us, but we can control how we respond.
and i think that is one of the most critical lessons a successful athlete learns.