motivation

tree on Granville Island Sept. 16, 2005

Why is it really hard to find the motivation to do something that’s clearly beneficial but requires a little effort, but once you’ve got that desire finally nailed, there seems to be a very fine line between motivation and obsession? Entering my first half marathon gave me the motivation I needed to continue running. It was more than the prospect of not embarrassing myself during the race, collapsing on the kerb and crying, looking like Paula Radcliffe in a funhouse mirror. It was also because once I’d started training I became addicted to the endorphins, the image of myself as this lean, hardened animal, prowling the suburban jungle and – let’s face it – the discipline. Even the pain after a long run had its benefits, especially for the masochistic doppelganger I try and keep hidden under the bed.

I decided after the race that if I could run 21.1 km in 2:09 my first time out on a hilly course with irregular training, then I could easily do a sub 2:00 with the right training and time invested. About six weeks before the race I was right on target when I started to feel some numbness down my leg. But the slut on my shoulder offering me a martini and cigarette must’ve been on holiday that day because all I could hear was the moustachioed gym teacher on the other, her grating voice hollering at me to quit being such a pathetic wimp. By this time I could taste that faster race and I wasn’t going to let a little “stiffness” get in my way. I continued to train, it hurt more, and I had to cut back, much to my increasing irritation. On race day there was even more pain than I had expected and I only managed to do another 2:09. It was the beginning of summer and I decided that all I needed was a rest from running and took six weeks off. From here on in the story gets predictable: more training, more pain, a slower half marathon in the fall, more pain, physiotherapy, Pilates, more pain, complete rest, begin again.

A beautiful early fall day today, almost two years later -- perfect for a run on the nature trails near my house. While I was out there, still suffering from chronic piriformis syndrome (where the piriformis muscle in your derriere pinches the sciatic nerve), I began to realise how ephemeral that state of perfect motivation is. It can be desperately difficult to get to that point, but once there how do you avoid destroying it with your own success? (And who do I ask?) Now I run because I’d rather run with a little pain than not at all. Yes -- another metaphor for life.