Running Madness
It’s funny all this fuss over Paula Radcliffe.
The first thing to say is that if you haven’t tried to run a marathon quickly, in the heat, then you should keep quiet about whether she could have continued, etc. When the wheels come off marathon running, then it feels pretty much unlike anything else you’ll experience in life. I experienced it in a London marathon. I got to twenty miles in just over two hours. It took an hour and ten minutes to run the next six miles, so you get the picture.
But the interesting thing from a philosophical, sociological point of view is that somehow moral judgements seem to infect how we view sporting feats. It isn’t a character flaw to stop when you’re about to collapse from heat exhuastion, it’s sensible. When I was fairly serious about this running lark, I would train with people who were very serious. In their world, my comparative lack of seriousness was considered to be a moral flaw. They’d continually harp on about the fact that "I wasn’t fulfilling my potential", etc. Well, newsflash guys, there isn’t a moral requirement that we should fulfill our potentials; if people are happy with mediocrity, as I am, then let them be (so long as they don’t write for the Guardian). Food fascists are the same incidentally. Oh you must try this cod with avacado and peach. No, sod off, I like pizza!
And there’s a thing about the running obsessives that I used to mix with. Their personal lives are a disaster area. Because they are through and through self-obsessed, as well as running-obsessed. If you read athletics magazines, periodically they’ll tell the story of Ron Hill, who never missed a training session in his life (or pretty much he didn’t), even when he’d had an operation the same day. They write about him as if he’s some kind of hero. Well, he isn’t. He’s pathological. And shouldn’t be allowed out, or near children.
Update: Paula’s going to run the 10km tonight. Anybody who has ever run a marathon will know that this is mind-boggling.
Yes, well I certainly wouldn’t dream of criticizing anyone for stopping. Hell no. My impulse is all the other way – when I see people trotting along sweating and panting I always wonder ‘Why don’t they stop?’ I always stop. When I get tired (or bored, or hot, or thirsty, or all those), I stop. I completely agree about the sensible thing. (On the other hand of course what your Comment leaves out and what most of your readers probably won’t know is that you’re, er, not all that sensible about stopping yourself, so it’s pretty funny to see you talking about how sensible it is to stop. Yes I know you do stop sometimes. But other times you don’t. You know you don’t. I won’t embarrass you by mentioning specifics – but I could…) (No, I know, that’s not the point, it’s the character flaw thing you’re talking about. I just had to say.)
As for mediocrity – well there’s mediocrity and then there’s mediocrity. That stipulation about the Guardian says it all – the Guardian there stands for pretty much any kind of public communication. Because what else is B&W about, eh? And whose idea was it in the first place, eh? So you’re not all that happy with mediocrity – not in all contexts. Running and eating, maybe; other areas, not so much.
And as for personal lives a disaster area and obsession – well. What of it? I don’t care about running, but there are other kinds of obsession. There are obsessive poets, mathematicians, composers, artists. Does it matter what their personal lives are like? Depends. If they’ve been silly enough to have children (silly because obsessives shouldn’t have children) then yes, but otherwise, no, not necessarily. Some people just prefer the things they get obsessive about to non-disastrous personal lives, and I think that’s a fine thing.
Well, the personal life thing only matters because:
a) Most were disatisfied with their lives; they weren’t great runners; they couldn’t hold down relationships; but they wanted to be able to;
b) Often there were other people involved; spouses, children, etc. The divorce rate amongst the runners I knew would have been astronomical.
c) I think there is a more subtle point about the kind of moral universe they inhabited; my point isn’t that there’s necessarily a problem with obsession; it’s that obsessives shouldn’t stand in judgement over people who are not obsessive; and in running, they do!
Ah, they wanted to. Yes, that makes a difference. And of course the other people involved was what I meant by the stipulation about children.
Yes, c) is interesting. I suppose I have to plead guilty to doing that to some extent…
But then how does one draw the line? Between being obsessive and – well – being obsessive enough? Some kinds of work – a lot of kinds, really – just do take a lot of time and effort and attention. Writing books for example! One person’s obsessive may just be another person’s getting the job done. Then if they collaborate on a book – one is an obsessive and the other is a slacker. Uh oh.
there isn’t a moral requirement that we should fulfill our potentials; if people are happy with mediocrity, as I am, then let them be
Can you conceive of no argument that would suggest people do have a moral requirement to fulfil their potential? I suspect you’re resting your case on certain unargued liberal premisses.
“Can you conceive of no argument that would suggest people do have a moral requirement to fulfil their potential?”
I can’t.
“I suspect you’re resting your case on certain unargued liberal premisses.”
I suspect you’re probably right.
“just do take a lot of time and effort and attention.”
Yup. But if, for example, people want to spend their time cultivating friendships instead, then I’m not going to condemn them for doing so.
If people are going to claim that we are obligated to fulfil our potentials, then I’m going to start arguing that all bloggers should learn to program a computer. And touch-type – people who can’t touch-type, very irritating (all those typos!).
“But if, for example, people want to spend their time cultivating friendships instead, then I’m not going to condemn them for doing so.”
Okay – I’m off then!
Just kidding. I’m back. I’m hopeless at cultivating friendships anyway – it’s always so unilateral.
And actually, on further thought…I do know people like that. Who consider it a moral flaw to stop when you’re about to collapse from heat exhaustion. I once worked for a whole summer with people like that. It was a group of park gardener-types; they took their cue from the senior member of the group who was famous for working very fast and very hard – famous and admired for it. But 1) he also worked stupidly. He broke things. He was always in such a hurry that he would just bull ahead instead of trying to think, so he would break buried pipes, tools, etc. He broke a pipe in the greenhouse that the plumbers had just installed; they were furious, but the people on the crew just thought that was typical endearing Roland. And 2) he was dangerous, and abusive of the crew. He wouldn’t let people who had injuries do other work, and he wouldn’t take account of heat. One day it was in the upper 90s, and we were working with heavy equipment in the full sun. Two supervisors actually came to the site to remind Roland that we had to take extra breaks, and at all costs avoid heat prostration. One of our colleagues had in fact collapsed and died of heat exhaustion about two weeks earlier. Roland smiled and nodded, and blithely ignored them. I called in sick the next day, so that I wouldn’t be in that situation again. The man was a damn menace. And yet he was admired.
Well this is what a lot of obsessive runners are like. There was this guy I used to train with – Rob, he was called.
He would run more than 100 miles a week. That was mad enough. But I remember doing a run with him the day Princess Diana died. During the run he was shitting blood. I was telling him that he had to stop and seek medical attention. But he wouldn’t. He just kept going. Blood everywhere (to the residents of Epsom, I apologise!).
And the irony – he wasn’t any good at running. Because the bottom line with running is that it’s down to genetics. You can train all you like, but you hit a glass ceiling. And his ceiling was low. But he still ran 120 miles a week.
But here’s the rub. When I asked him why he did it to himself – he said that it was alright for me, that I could do other things in my life; but the only thing he was even remotely good at was running. It was actually quite poignant.
Of course, he was wrong about me being able to do other things…
Oh dear, that is poignant.
(On the other hand, that business of running 100 miles a week and that’s mad enough – er – ahem!)
I’ve read the article you linked to now. It is odd. Radcliffe thinks she owes fans an explanation, and so do fans.
I wonder if this kind of thing comes up more in sport than in other things. I do think there are some weird moral ideas about sport, especially in the US – but quite a lot over there, too. (I blame Tom Arnold and the playing fields of Eton.)
Mountain climbing is another example. Jon Krakauer used to live here (in Seattle) and I went to a book signing of his once. He talked about the trip to the airport when he left for that disastrous Everest trip. His wife was crying and asking what about her? 25% of people who attempt Everest (or who go past Camp 3, or something) die. He just told her not to be melodrmatic. Melodramatic?! About a chance of one in four?! Afterward, he was amazed at how stupid (and selfish) he’d been – but he couldn’t see it at the time.