An affirmation of life makes fulfilled living possible in the here and now of our world. Its antithesis, life denial, requires a retreat from everyday living and a concomitant fixation on an otherworldly vision. Most importantly, when we affirm life, we accept the interrelated and dialectical character of being human in a limited existence. Once we embrace such an understanding, the good and the bad of life can be navigated more effectively and appreciated more fully.
The ancient Greeks seemed to grasp this concept as indicated in their dramatic works. Greek tragedy has been interpreted most famously as a means of channeling off negative feelings and resentments within the community and its members (a process known as catharsis). Another interpretation offered by Friedrich Nietzsche is that in such dramatic productions, the community affirmed life and celebrated the painful struggle against the limitations of human effort on the stage of religious festivals. The benefits of such engagement included a renewed respect for their community and the roles each of them played in the ongoing struggles of life.
While I enjoy a good Greek tragedy as well as the next person, I am currently reflecting on a more visceral, life-affirming encounter with pain. I will be running in the New Las Vegas Marathon this coming Sunday, December 2. This race in particular inspires a number of thoughts on the pain and challenges intrinsic to running a marathon as well as the opportunities to come away with a renewed appreciation and greater understanding for life in its totality.
It is not my first marathon, so I have a general idea of what the encounter will be like. Yet, I have not run this particular race and every course possesses its own characteristics and particular challenges. Furthermore, there are so many variables within such a long and protracted race I know that I will meet new challenges. But there is one feature I am confident will be consistent with other marathons I have run: the pain.
I run every marathon with a hope of out performing previous races. This may mean a personal record or only a personal best for the type of course (if it is particularly mountainous, for example). I usually set three goals in the face of each marathon. Accomplishment of any one of these goals means that I encountered and overcame discomfiting forms of pain. Failure means that I reached the limit of possibility and arrived at the breaking point in my pain threshold. Such meaning, of course, presumes that I will invest everything that I have to attaining these goals.
The three goals I have set for this marathon are: first, to complete the race; second, to qualify for the Boston Marathon again (3:15); third, to finish with a time under three hours. I feel pretty confident about the first two goals but am not sure about the third. The fastest time I have run is 3:00:14. This course appears to be more difficult but I have been training at a higher altitude so I could be in a better position than might be thought. Either way, the challenge is there.
Over the remaining days between now and the race, I will visualize my participation, the pain, and accomplishment. I focus on steeling myself for the encounter and the overwhelming feeling of exhaustion that awaits me in the upcoming days. My past experience and training inspire me with a curious confidence that I will prevail and realize further the unconquerable runner in me. I also know that I will return from Las Vegas revitalized and possessing an embodied affirmation of life in its totality.
Glenn Cunningham put it best: "In running it is man against himself, the cruelest of opponents. The other runners are not the real enemies. His adversary lies within him, in his ability with brain and heart to master himself and his emotions."
No comments:
Post a Comment