Tomorrow morning I'll be running my eighth half-marathon and it doesn't matter at all.
Five years ago I remember my first half-marathon – the Indianapolis Mini-Marathon. The course snaked through downtown, around the Indy 500 race track, and then back to White River State Park. It was a wonderful feeling of involvement, of doing something new, and finally, when I crossed the finish line, of achievement. For the rest of the day I was achy, but soaring high on what I'd accomplished.
Years later I was brave enough to double that run and complete the Chicago Marathon. Again, I had another great high of achievement, of accomplishment, of a job well-done. It was so good, so intense, that I decided to return to Chicago last year and do it again.
I have learned something important by running: in my life I need to achieve. I don't run to be healthy, or because I like to pound out the miles, or for Zen motivations as some people do. I run because I like the feeling of achievement, of accomplishment, and knowing that I've done something good, hard, and challenging. And it's not even the accomplishment of formal races like tomorrow; it's running from here to there, beating a prior record, or the distance I can run before I must stop.
Do you know David McClelland? He created a theory, called the Acquired-Needs Theory, that posits our needs are acquired over time based on our life experiences. McClelland states we are driven by achievement, affiliation, or power and that these needs can shift over time based on events in our life. Technically you're supposed to complete a test (the Thematic Apperception Test) to determine your driving need, but I've a pretty good idea what drives me: achievement.
So today, as I think about my run tomorrow, I'm noticing that I'm not as excited as years past. I'm not rushing out to buy a new shirt and hat, something I've always done in the past. I'm not dumping out my race-registration goodie bag and studying the course map, the brochures, and free granola bars. I'm not checking the weather, thinking of driving the race course, or pacing in anticipation. I've done this before – it's not a big deal. This isn't a new achievement and it's not as exciting to me as years past. I know it'll still be a challenge, but it's not an achievement.
There have been so many disappointments over the past year that running a race just doesn't excite me right now. It's challenging to get excited about a half-marathon when business is down, book sales are flat, and you're not certain what your next move is. I'm not complaining. I know how fortunate I am to live somewhere beautiful, warm, and friendly. I know how fortunate I am to have a profession that lets me work late and sleep late. I know how fortunate I am to have the ability to run, to see, to hear, and to think.
If anything I'm ashamed and feel a little guilty about my blasé attitude towards my running and my eagerness to achieve. While I'm moaning about achievement I've friends that are without jobs. These are educated people with real-world experiences, certifications, and talent. They're sending out resume after resume with no responses and no offers. Everyone, from friends to strangers, talks about the economy – we're all in this regardless of your political views, employment status, and future plans.
No, my business isn't booming. Yes, I do worry about what I'll be doing next, what book, if any, I'll be writing next, and how my currently published works will sell. I'm concerned that it's going to be a long time, if ever, that my business will be like it was before or surpass those juicy years. Honestly, there are days when I wake up and wonder why I should even bother. I wonder if my time would be better spent working at Starbucks or Borders or selling t-shirts on the beach. And then I wonder if those places are even hiring.
And then I realize that this is an opportunity to achieve. A marathon is tougher than a half-marathon. Running a business is tougher in a poor economy than in a good economy. I must dig in, look for more opportunities, and keep writing, keep selling, and maybe most of all, keep running.
So tonight I'll have some pasta, go to bed a little earlier, and in the morning I'll run.
