Instant adventurers and the need for community

Jonathan Dresner sent me this link to a story in yesterday's New York Times: The Now or Never Athlete.  It's an article about the phenomenon of "instant adventurers", folks who suddenly decide, often after years of sloth, to wake up one morning and train for an extreme endurance event like the 135-mile Badwater Race.

Casual athletes, if athletes at all, they suddenly vault from a lifetime of sporadic workouts to the workout of a lifetime. The adventures vary: summiting Mount Everest, swimming the English Channel, dog-racing the Iditarod. But the instant adventurers don't; they are normal people who unexpectedly fixate on one of the world's most grueling challenges.

"This year I bet I had five people contact me who'd never done anything like this in their lives," said Lisa Smith-Batchen of Victor, Idaho, an ultramarathoner and online coach who caters to novices. She has observed such a surge in first-timers that she calls her business Dreamchasers. Despite how often their sanity is questioned, these amateurs tend to be successful, focused people who feel they have mastered every other aspect of their lives - career, relationships, parenthood - only to discover their last unconquered frontier is the one they have carried around since birth: their bodies.

"From a psychological perspective, these are actually very healthy people," said Dr. Andrew Lovy, a psychiatrist in Mesa, Ariz., who also runs in ultramarathons. "You can't wake up Monday as a novice and do the Iditarod on Tuesday. But you can wake up Monday and say, 'I think I'll start training for the Iditarod on Tuesday.' That's excellent; you're not letting someone else define your limits or capabilities."

This is not a conventional midlife crisis, Dr. Lovy said. It is more a midlife convergence of heightened confidence, disposable income and a taste for travel.

"They're at the top of their game," he said, "and what they want is an extraordinary achievement which will help define them."

Hmm.  Here's where I'm going to get snippy.  I've been working out regularly for well over a decade, since making a decision in 1992 to start exercising (a resolution I've managed to keep, remarkably enough).  I didn't run my first marathon until 1998, didn't do my first ultra-marathon until 2003, didn't do my first century ride until 2004.  Unlike these instant adventurers, I've built up my training very slowly. 

I've met these instant adventurers before, out on the trails as they train for their first 100-miler (having never completed anything longer than a 10K).  I'll be the first to admit I have tremendous admiration for their focus and dedication.  But I also am bothered by the fact that their devotion is, as the article says, about "an extraordinary achievement that will help define them."  There's a level of narcissism there that I find troubling.

To be fair, as my friends, family, and readers will at once point out, I have an unhealthy narcissistic streak all my own.  But unlike the instant adventurers, my friends and I who marathon and ultra (those are both verbs in our circle) don't merely do so to prove something to ourselves and to other people.  We run as part of a community, understanding that training and competing is not about individual achievement so much as it is about creating a close-knit tribe of fellow endurance enthusiasts who will support each other through the highs and lows of not only athletics, but of life itself. 

No one I run with sets their sights on one enormous event,  We're training to run for the rest of our lives, two or three long distance races a year with a smattering of shorter ones.  We train to keep our bodies fit, we train to find spiritual respite from the cares of the world, but we also train together because we see what we do as a communal, group activity.  In my group, there is relatively little talk of PRs (personal records), though most of us will happily share our best times if asked.  When we train, we're more likely to talk about our relationships, our families, our pets, our careers, and our faiths than we are to endlessly discuss our next big event.

I've seen marriages fall apart over the kind of obsessiveness I read about in the Times story.  There's a fine line between being really, really fit and being absolutely nutty, and I've seen lots of people cross it over the years.  In my early years of working out, when I battled with exercise anorexia (and yes, that was an actual diagnosis), my weight plummeted to 145 pounds. (I'm 180 now, and feel just fine at that weight, thanks.)  I lost the ability to think about anything other than eating (or more accurately, not eating) and training.  My relationships with everyone suffered.

Most of the folks mentioned in the Times article took up their athletic quests in the aftermath of personal tragedy: a divorce, a death of a loved one, a job loss, September 11.  It's true that many of us who become distance runners first take up the sport after a loss.  We want to reassert some control over our lives because external circumstances have made our lives seem very chaotic indeed.  But sooner or later, we're going to have to find another reason to run and train, or we'll give it up altogether.  The drive to prove something is ultimately, I think, a short-lived one.  Successful training has to be about more than showing the world (and oneself) that one can master one's own flesh; it's ultimately a way of life that needs to be about connecting to others, to nature, and to the spiritual.

Then again, maybe I'm just envious.  Between my obligations at home, my teaching,  my volunteer work, my blogging, our new chinchilla rescue charity, and so on, I'm not willing to put in the time to train for one of the really long events.  Most of the folks in my running group have families, and they are not willing to sacrifice time with their kids for private glory. At this stage in my life, my plate is too full -- and I'm just not willing to sacrifice other aspects of my life in order to complete one of the truly long events.  For now, 26.2 will have to be a sufficient distance.  But yes, I do fantasize about the "big ones", and perhaps, perhaps, I'll turn my attention towards them someday soon,

Comments

[Karla]

Hugo,
According to your assessment of the article; "Rome wasn't built in a day," and the instant 'wanna be' athlete is trying to get in shape overnight.__ I can see your logic here, but aren't you being a little overly critical. You have to give a little credit for honest effort.__Gosh, you are really tough!

[Caitriona]

Then again, maybe I'm just envious. Between my obligations at home, my teaching, my volunteer work, my blogging, our new chinchilla rescue charity, and so on, I'm not willing to put in the time to train for one of the really long events. Most of the folks in my running group have families, and they are not willing to sacrifice time with their kids for private glory. At this stage in my life, my plate is too full -- and I'm just not willing to sacrifice other aspects of my life in order to complete one of the truly long events. For now, 26.2 will have to be a sufficient distance. But yes, I do fantasize about the "big ones", and perhaps, perhaps, I'll turn my attention towards them someday soon,

Hugo,

I understand what you're saying here, all too well. There is something addictive about each of the different things we each are doing in our lives. But there is that other attraction, that addiction that calls to us. Mine isn't running. For me, running became painful when I was playing high school basketball and had to take prescription pain meds to make it through 3 hours of practice without bursting into tears. So running is more painful than addictive. I have other pursuits, usually rescuing. Having an addictive personality doesn't help matters.

Kudos to you for being so self-aware. IME, that can help you weigh the balance of which activities to include in your life, and to what percentage. Keep it up.

[Deborah White]

Interesting.....this is my first visit here.

[Hugo]

Karla, I've just noticed that you post from the same computer (based on IP address) as the following: Mat, Laurel, Carmen, Teri, Mercy, Coco, Brittany, Nancy, Marie, and JJB.

I re-read some of these comments and you all have the same style. Is there a pack of you living together and using the same computer? Or is it one person assuming multiple identities? Typepad, like most blogs, allows me to know your IP address.

Post as you will, but please do try and keep the same identity.

Thanks.

[metamanda]

hmmm... I did a less extreme version of that once, up and decided to run a marathon, after being a pretty on-and-off runner. I guess part of it was that I was depressed and unhappy with my job, thinking of applying to graduate school but had no confidence about my abilities. So maybe I had something to prove, and in that respect it _was_ a little narcissistic. I ended up doing Team-in-Training, which, like the coach described in the article, caters to novices. But there are also plenty of people in that program that participate over and over, plenty of people who are habitual runners. In the end, no matter what reason you had for starting it, such programs end up really being about the community. Narcissism won't get you up for 5am runs; you get up because you don't want to keep your carpool waiting. I'm still friends with some of my running buddies from there, even though I've moved and can't run with them anymore.

Actually, my first thought about these first time athletes was "wow... sounds like a good way to get injured."

[metamanda]

Oh, and on reading the article more thoroughly... apparently marathons are for wusses anyway. :)
And I suppose an online coaching routine may not be so much in the way of community.

[Carmen]

You forgot Cairo, Paz, Betty, Laurel, etc...Yup, you might call us a pack of sorority sisters in a way.

Don't worry, we know we are no longer welcome. We will move on to another blog.

[yami]

So what things in life don't need to be about community and connecting to others? We all need to spend time alone, connecting to ourselves (and/or deity/ies, as applicable). Obviously training for extreme endurance events is way more alone time than most people need, but as an unusually introverted person myself, I'm not comfortable judging another's balance.

Why the requirement that "successful" training be something that becomes a permanent part of one's life?

[Hugo]

Yami, note my last paragraph... I'm quite clear that this might be envy on my part!

[yami]

Ah, but I'm curious about the implicit "might not be" :)

[mercedes]

After reading this article I realize that I was right, you are the reincarnation of Trotsky!

[Hugo]

Uh oh. If my students think I'm starting to look like Trotsky, it's time to shave the goatee.