June 23, 2007

  When Pain is Leisure
    By Bob Francis, Owner
    soundRUNNER




The time is rapidly approaching for the annual ritual of preparing for a fall marathon. This column combines two recent academic papers to give us a different perspective on the reasons people run marathons, or engage in other endurance events. The first paper, submitted to the Columbia Journal of American Studies, argued that marathon participation is a merit-based effort to obtain a leisure credential, a unique accomplishment with high value in setting yourself apart from others. The second, a distinguished lecture at the University of Massachusetts Amherst, examined the causes of self-inflicted pain in humans and primates, which on a clinical level is not a fun topic, but for my purposes is useful in thinking about what constitutes pain and why people embrace it.

We run marathons for lots of reasons, but not because the actual race promotes health: it doesn’t. The race breaks you down in an uncontrolled way. One of the first clues is that feeling you get when you think your legs have turned into tree stumps. But when you cross the finish line you don’t care. Training, on the other hand, breaks you down in a controlled way. The essence of training is application of and adaptation to progressive stress. So guess what: the mildest thing you can say about running a marathon is that it is self-inflicted discomfort. Some of the human wreckage I’ve seen over the years beyond twenty-two miles would be classified way beyond discomfort. The credential argument is based on the all-consuming commitment of time and effort in preparing, the upwardly-mobile demographics of marathons, and the goal-oriented psychological profile of runners. The pain argument is based on confusion over the difference between pleasure and pain, the impact one’s pain has on others, and the satisfaction of needs for belonging, esteem, and self-actualization.

We rearrange our lives to prepare for a marathon, running at least five or six hours a week, and several hours at a time for those increasingly long training runs, over a period of months. We prepare because we know that crossing the finish line will set us apart, and that if we don’t prepare, something very unpleasant could happen. We withstand blisters, aches, bone-tired afternoon naps, and cold rain, all for gratification that will be interminably delayed. We know how to separate the reward from the punishment. We inflict pain on ourselves for very good reasons: it somehow feels good, impresses other people, and satisfies important needs. The finisher’s medal signifies that the wearer belongs to a select group, earning esteem, respect, and admiration. Crossing the line gives a feeling of accomplishment that you alone control. No one else can determine whether or not you finish.

The largest age cohorts represented in marathons are 20–29 and 30–39. By and large these runners are college graduates with well-paying, professional jobs. How do marathoners set themselves apart from their contemporaries? What can they do to create a special appeal? By willingly denying themselves other daily pleasures in order to train, knowing the impact the answer “I ran my first marathon” will have on the person who asks them what they’ve been doing recently. I may not still be in those age groups, but I’d rather be Bob Francis, B.A.A. than Bob Francis, Ph.D.

Archive of Bob’s Lane

Issue 1: May 1, 2007: Bob on the Bash
Issue 2: May 10, 2007: Bob on Dave Parcells
Issue 3: May 24, 2007: Bob on the Branford Road Race
Issue 4: June 1, 2007: Bob on Being Green
Issue 5: June 15, 2007: Bob from the Left Coast