“Natalie’s Triumph” is a story my cousin Tom Roston penned a few years ago for The New York Times. It’s a short piece about the day Tom took his daughter Natalie to a group preschool interview – what it was like for him to be the steward of his daughter’s well being – how that felt, and ultimately, how Natalie performed.
On the surface, a story about a father and a daughter seems like an unlikely place for me to find deep insight into myself with regard to running; but that’s the thing about great writing, it doesn’t rely on plot line to deliver life lessons. The power of great writing lives in its humanity. Tom writes with a lot of humanity.
The story took me into Tom’s world, a place full of planning, discipline and strategy – the modalities required for strong parenting. There was love and hopefulness too, but it was “managed” so that that hopefulness didn’t become smothering or controlling. Tom stayed mindful that the preschool audition was ultimately Natalie’s to win or lose, and that all he could really do was set her up for success, step back and let her do her thing.
Natalie was revealed as a character entirely through her actions, which is how one gets to know a child. She was challenged in moments during the story, but never beyond her capacity to cope and prevail. She kept me on the edge of my seat, worried; but objectively, I had no reason to worry. Natalie was always more than competent. How funny that I would worry? Isn’t it? Natalie never faltered and, in the end, she triumphed – and so in that did Tom triumph - though his story humbly overlooks that point.
This is the exact personification of how I’m succeeding at running. I’ve been aware that there were strong and separate mind/body components, but I’ve never been quite sure how to understand the “mechanics” of it. How do I prop myself up enough to get to the Park during a rain storm, and then... who is that other person running along and finishing 14 miles at a pace of 12:12? Do I know both of these people? Do they know each other?
As it turns out, they do know each other, and they depend on each other – like parent and child - but they don't necessarily understand each other, and they don't have to. The part of me that does the propping up is all the things Tom is to Natalie in the story; and the part of me that runs along oblivious to the potential pitfalls, well, that is the child in me who is apparently a lot more competent than I'd thought. Yes, the child sometimes requires some charming, but she rights herself pretty quickly when coaxed. I haven’t quit yet, have I?
The more I think about this metaphor the more amazed I am at how much sense it makes. It’s kind of exciting knowing what the roles are. It’s freeing. I was annoyed that my mind could think all of the body's work through, but the body could care less about my mind. I resented that for every hour of hard labor my body did, my mind was actually spending two hours preparing - reading articles, blogging, buying stupid sneakers! Mind was on overdrive and body just kept getting lucky and delivering.
Now I see mind and body as a team. Two players with very different positions - and one doesn't really have to worry about or try to control what the other is doing. It's better if they each do their thing and leave the other one alone. Body's performing well above expectations and mind should lay off!
Today was a day of rest. I didn't make up the 4 miles I was supposed to run yesterday, and I'm not sure if I'll be able to run 5 tomorrow due to my work schedule. Mind says that's unfortunate, possibly poor planning. Body says not to worry - we've got it covered.
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