The Imaginary Audience

Be honest, have you ever 'fudged' the numbers, faked a running post, or elaborated your times on Strava or social media?

Have you ever heard yourself embellishing and inflating your past PB’s as you recount with vigour the slightly reworked narrative of the runner you used to be, still are or the runner you want to be?

Maybe you’ve found yourself making excuses for a recent ‘slow’ run as though the time you ran is somehow SO beneath you. And whilst I’m asking for some candour, to what extent have you made yourself appear better, faster, greater than?  

Have you lied about a time and distance? Cut a corner in a race? Paused your Garmin to recover/have a cup of tea but on Strava the discrepancy was due to watch malfunction? Does the pressure of being “seen” as good enough at running influence and even overwrite your usual values and integrity?

If the honest answer to any of these questions is yes, it’s highly likely you (and your running) are suffering at the hands of The Imaginary Audience…

The Imaginary Audience is a psychological developmental concept suggesting that we believe we are under constant and close observation by our peers, family and strangers. This fear of being watched can lead to low self-esteem, hyper self-consciousness, and heightened sensitivity to criticism. None of which is remotely surprising when one is living under the illusion that all our actions and our appearance are under constant scrutiny. It’s thought to be more prevalent in teenagers due to the (necessary) development of their over inflated ego during this stormy phase in their life, which is also hardly a surprise to anyone who’s survived being a teenager and raising one (two in my case!).

While the term was first coined in 1967 by David Elkind, social media and progress tracking apps of all kinds have added another level of this stress to not only adolescents but normal, competent, professional adults.

Just take the cautionary tale of Kate Carter, a Runner’s World editor and an extremely competent runner, who was recently called out by American blog Marathon Investigation who received an anonymous ‘tip’ that Carter had lied about her finishing times on her public Strava profile for 2 prestigious running events in London last year.  

Cater released a statement which showed real vulnerability, admitting her mistake and voicing the pressure she clearly felt to be ‘perfect’ all the time…

“I was not in peak marathon fitness at the time and didn’t think I was going to get a very good time. […] I also feel it is important to admit that part of this was about my ego.  Even in the amateur running world there is pressure to maintain form and times” she admitted, adding “My own desire to be seen to be doing well at a time when I was feeling weak and below par, resulted in a momentary lapse of judgement which I very much regret”.

Any embellishment we might have made probably hasn’t been called out on the same level as Kate Carter’s, being publicly shamed is clearly no fun, but it does highlight how the perceived pressure can influence our actions at any level.

My own Kate Carter Story

I hadn’t run a marathon for several years and whilst I was looking forward to the event, I perceived pressure to put in a good performance from an audience of RunVerity (my running club) members past and present. This was my first marathon as a paid running coach, and in my mind, there was an expectancy that I would run the perfect marathon by executing all of my own sage coaching advice.

On the morning of the race that pressure grew exponentially- it led to such a heightened state of self-consciousness that it panicked me into a tizzy of anxiety. Like a rabbit in headlights, I frantically looked for escape routes, but opting out wasn’t an option. I know! I’ll remove my chip timing from my number, a fair compromise, I reasoned, that tasted more palatable than faking sudden illness. Somehow, I did manage to talk myself down, convincing myself that no-one cares what I did, so as I left my hotel room for the start of the race the time chip stayed on.

But then The Imaginary Audience caught up with me…

Argh but, of course, my un-dealt with demons caught up with me. I heard them approach as they synchronised their whisper with my footfall, “you set off too fast, everyone will see that first mile and laugh, ha!, she did exactly what she tells us not to do!! You’ve blown it, everyone will see your pace drop and know you’re human!”

And as the ninja continued to chatter, it called for its friends to join in, they hijacked my rational brain and with each step that I ran they seized control. How do I escape their clutches? Shall I stop? Walk off the course? Call an Uber?

I couldn’t take anymore. I ripped off the timing chip at mile 20 and the ninjas silence was deafening.

Did I give one second of a thought to the real people who were following me?

Nope, not one thought at all- my values and common sense disappeared alongside the chip. It hadn’t crossed my mind that there would be concern for my safety, I was too wrapped up in my egocentrism. But to my friends and family there to cheer me on, as far as they knew I’d stopped at mile 20, and they’d thought the worst- I’d collapsed, I was in a coma, I’d come a cropper. For the next hour I caused them untold unnecessary worry.

Despite all my experience as a runner and my career as a Psychology Lecturer, I’d bowed and broken under the glare of my imaginary audience. I’d felt so pressured to maintain my image through fear of their perceived judgment, and so reluctant to express my genuine vulnerability and authenticity, which ironically, in the end my actions really showed.

Be Bold!

What I learnt from this experience is that navigating the realm of social media requires a delicate balance between authenticity and discretion. It’s important to remember that the perceived scrutiny of The Imaginary Audience is often exaggerated, and that genuine connections are forged through sincerity and vulnerability rather than a meticulously crafted facade of who you think you should be. Taking that road can be incredible isolating and lonely, and can lead to you missing out on a lot of fun.