Why Do We Think Running Always Has To Hurt?

Most of my substacks develop from snippets of conversations that stay with me, it could be an innocent remark or a full on, in-depth heart to heart. Within the last 2 weeks, two of my running club members ran different marathons but on the same day, and both told me the exact same thing the week after their marathon… that they felt fine, in fact they both said they felt good. There’s a 30-year age gap between them but their words were identical and whilst I was extremely proud of this fact, they were united in their post-race analysis as doubt and a smidge of disappointment crept into their head, “surely I shouldn’t feel this good after running a marathon, did I really push enough?”

At the exact time I was having these concurrent conversations, I was also working on a substack called “The Fun Scale of Running”, which suggests there are just 3 types of fun linked to how much you enjoy running.

Type 1 – a run that’s great fun from start to finish. Type 2, not fun whilst running but in retrospect an enjoyable and fun run, however the third type of run and I quote from the infographic below that had inspired me to share it, “Sucks at the time, and also sucks in retrospect – miserable, brutal, may have ended in an injury, a trip to the hospital. NEVER AGAIN!”

My brain went a bit into overdrive as I started questioning this idea, this belief that to be a successful runner or complete a successful race you should literally be in the “hurt locker” which, just to be clear, is a place of “intense physical and mental discomfort”.

And then all these thoughts took me back to my very first interval session with a running club. I was so new to running, literally weeks old and I was told to run as fast as I could up a hill, I did, but then I was told I had to do it again! WTF! I literally didn’t know what had hit me, I had no idea about controlling pace, recovery or even standing up for myself, I just know that the session felt like purgatory and instead of walking away, I did what most people do when in group setting, I conformed whilst silently vowing to myself that I wouldn’t ever come back.

Upon finishing the session I overheard this “seasoned runner” say “those new girls haven’t tried hard enough, they should be doubled over, puking on the grass?”.  

On reflection and whilst I put this article together, I realised that this was my first taste of the socially accepted hell that runners continue to put themselves through, an ever present culture of “winning at all costs” still engrained within us today to think that the only way to improve (or get the kudos) is to do hard things.

I know and I also agree to a certain extent that doing hard things does make us better at, well, doing hard things - pushing ourselves out of our comfort zones, turning up to a race we’re nervous about, or doing a speed session completely un-phased, when previously it used to petrify us - are all good things.

I also see runners thrive doing hard things as they build mental strength, and physical strength; where would we be if we didn’t build in some emotional resilience into our lives? I mean we’d just stay stuck, rooted to the spot.

And let’s not forget all those transferable life skills we develop when we set ourselves running challenges. I’ve seen running give people confidence, a new self-assurance that enables them to go for that promotion/change jobs/leave their partners… It is has the capacity to be truly life changing.

Back to the Fun Running scale - I’ve had my fair share of type 1, 2 and 3 runs, races with friends, soaking up the atmosphere as the crowds shout your name, making aeroplanes running down hills and whooping it up when I see my husband in the crowd (he says I don’t take it seriously enough!).

But I’ve also had runs that have just been plain awful, every step excruciating, runs that have challenged me where I’ve had no choice but to dig unbelievably deep; the option of stopping, sitting and sobbing until my husband comes to pick me up has never, well, been an option.

Unfortunately for me, my husband was a submariner in a former life, the SQC (Submarine Qualifying Course) is “considered one of the most challenging training courses in defence. * I promise you this is a direct quote from the Royal Navy and not something Jamie just brags about all the time!

I joke, but his ethos that has been drilled into him due to this military training has been one of pushing past the pain, persevering in the face of adversity, never quitting, and never giving up. The option of me phoning him crying saying it’s snowing and I’m cold doesn’t cut it for him, he just tells me to get on with it.

I thank him (secretly) for not giving me the option to quit, all of those tough runs did end, and I learnt a lot about resilience - sometimes running is uncomfortable, to move forward you’ve literally got to put one foot in front of the other.

But what about the runs that are brutal, the runs that can result in injury, hating running or even worse, A&E? There’s no fun in that, we’ve all seen the advert “when the fun stops… STOP”.

There’s no fun in either not making it to the start line, or collapsing over the finish line vomiting violently, doubled up in pain with cramp, exhausted in a heap.

I’ve listened as runners tell me they want to push themselves further, harder, faster, the request that their training plan needs to be more intense as, race after race is signed up to, yet I know in my heart of hearts, because of my experience as a running coach, that the runner that stands in front of me is broken, battered and already pushed to their limits.

When I first started coaching all I wanted to do was to help people get healthier, to find the joy in running, combining a physical and mental trajectory; the final destination being balance and fulfilment.

But what happens when a passion like running tips the balance into a descructive addiction that can cause harm. And we know the running haters out there, the “anti-runners” continuously ask the question, “What are all you runners running away from?”

And are they right, are all runners running away from something, something deep and traumatic, I mean the science is strong, suggesting a link between runners and an increased prevalence of mental health challenges; we know there are many benefits to having structure and self-regulation especially when it feels like your life is falling apart, it brings relief , builds resilience, builds strength; running has the capacity to empower and can keep mental illness at bay….

Just……what happens when running, once a coping mechanism, begins to blur into a form of self-harm? That’s literally, in my mind, a whole different scale on the 1 to 3 fun-to-suffering scale.

Where is the line between a balanced training plan focused on gradual improvement and a punishing routine that edges into self-inflicted harm?And this is where the waters get murky, because unlike other coping mechanisms working out/continuous running/consistent marathons/extreme races/running when injured, all of these have the benefit of not having the social stigma of being unhealthy, and before we know it, smashing it, collapsing over the finish line, marathon after marathon, race after race, gritting your teeth becomes a socially accepted form of self-harm.

I haven’t answered any of my original questions, in fact it feels like another substack could be brewing, but I’m glad I’ve shared my thoughts with you, and as I said to my two very successful marathon runners, you don’t have to collapse over the finish line or leave your soul on the race course, finishing with some grace and dignity so you get to run another day is to me what a successful race is all about. But am I alone in thinking that?

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