I’ve written a little bit about my crazy little brother—how he set a goal of running a marathon once a week for a year while working as an Engineering Manager at Strava (a mobile app for runners & cyclists). He failed, running only 21 marathons in 21 weeks.
He ran his first marathon in 2018 and has amassed 52 marathons in a span of 4 years. So, it’s safe to say that he likes running. But if you ask him about how he got started, he did not set out to be this ambitious.
As a kid, my brother was allergic to the outdoors. One time, the family was going on a camping trip. The car was fully loaded, packed to the brim for a weekend getaway. Just as we were filing into the car, Daniel declared that he would not be joining us on our trip. A fight ensued between him and my Dad. Next thing you know, Daniel escaped on his bike to hide at his friend’s place. He later told me he went to Mountain Mike’s to eat a medium pizza first. We canceled that camping trip because Daniel literally ran away from the outdoors.
This is how my family knows Daniel. Someone who loves the computer, playing video games, building things online, and hanging out on IRC. So it’s confusing to see Daniel as an accomplished ultra-runner. Last year, he completed his first 100k and plans to run his first 100 miler this year.
During a recent trail run with Daniel (yes, he still runs with mere mortals like myself), I asked him how he got into running and whether Strava was the impetus. Turns out, it was a complete accident. He had already signed up for a marathon prior to landing the job at Strava. He started running because a persistent co-worker at a prior company kept asking him to run. Daniel begrudgingly caved one day and he’s continued the activity ever since. He tells me running is “fun”.
I suspect we have different definitions of fun. Anytime I visit home, my dad and I play catch. We hurl the baseball back and forth, sometimes accompanying a conversation and other times in meditative silence with only the intermittent thump of a ball smashing into the glove. Now, this is fun. My Dad and I are giddy whenever we have time to play toss, often at the utter bewilderment of my mom. She doesn’t understand why it’s so fun for us. I suppose she has another definition of fun.
As we were huffing and puffing our way during an uphill segment of our run, I asked him why he ran so much. He struggled to find words, until drawing an analogy: “it’s like playing MMORPGs (Massively Multiplayer Online Role Playing Games). They follow a simple formula. You kill monsters, do quests, strengthen your character, and level up. Monsters and quests get harder and you level your character. The cycle repeats until you reach the max level. Then the game developers raise the max level and release harder monsters and new gear and you continue onwards. What’s the point? There is no point. The point is that there is no point.”
The ramp from casual runner to ultra-marathoner is a steep one. Fun might be the reason to start an activity, but it’s not the reason to push against bigger and bigger challenges. Fun eventually becomes challenging, if pushed far enough. It’s a fine line between fun, self-indulgence, and dangerous addiction, often crossed without recognition. Sometimes, crossing the line is the only way to truly understand the boundaries.
There’s a sinister interpretation of his analogy: video games perpetuate themselves with extrinsic rewards, a never ending ladder. For runners, one mile becomes a 10k, which turns into a marathon, and eventually becomes an ultra-marathon. 200 mile races are a thing. Where does it stop? How does one stop if there’s no clearly defined boundary and the external prizes only get bigger?
As a concerned sibling, I pressed Daniel further to understand what ensures he doesn’t go overboard. He broke it down into three components: understanding risks, removing comparisons, and a pulse on enjoyment.
Exercise addiction is real, but Daniel’s answer on risks relieved some of my fears. In his own words: “I think in terms of going overboard / safety with trail running, there are like two parts: The body (injury, fatigue, dehydration) and nature (weather, getting lost, running out of light). I’ve pushed different things a tiny bit overboard, enough to learn the lesson.” The clarity on risks and recognition that the line was crossed is a sign of mature awareness. It doesn’t mean I don’t get spooked when Daniel tells me he will be running for at least 24 hours later this year.
Extrinsic rewards only have power if they’re viewed as the goal. This is where I think Daniel’s analogy to MMORPGs is actually a healthy sign. He doesn’t give the running game’s levels too much importance and doesn't compete against his peers, instead, he focuses on whether he enjoys his runs.
There’s an added benefit to focusing on enjoyment: if you truly enjoy an activity, it’s easier to struggle when it gets hard. For example, Daniel was never an early bird (do you know any early bird gamers?). But, he’ll wake up at 4am to get a head start on a long run. We might consider waking up at 4am to do anything as insanity, but for someone who enjoys an activity, it’s simply required to get to the fun stuff.
When we enjoy an activity for the sake of the activity, we will go through hell or high water to make it happen. Obstacles and setbacks don’t appear difficult while challenging goals seem inevitable. Even when we fail, we know we will be better for it. Plus, we think it’s fun.
I won’t be joining Daniel on a marathon run anytime soon, but my Dad and I will attempt to play catch in the 10 minutes between meetings today. I’m not sure what I set out to write, but this post started out as I’ve described above: writing for the sake of writing. Here we are.