Race against the Machine

I’d said in my last email that I didn’t plan on sending you anything today. I ran the NYC Half yesterday and presumed that I’d be too anxious on Saturday and too tired on Sunday to write anything. Think of this as either a bonus email or one easy to ignore – a nod to the original idea behind Second Breakfast (engineering bodies) more than its recent return to ed-tech (engineering minds), with far too much “personal experience narrative” crammed in there. Just me, as usual, trying to make sense of the world.

The NYC Half was, I’m sad to report, the worst half marathon I’ve ever run. And okay okay, I haven’t run a lot of them. I’m still relatively new to running, having picked up the sport, as so many people did, during the pandemic. This was my sixth half, and I was really hoping to break 1:50 as I ran the Philly Half in November in 1:50:23. Instead, I finished with a time slower than any of my previous races, almost nine minutes slower than my goal time.

I’m not sure what happened. Everything about this training block went so smoothly. I ran more miles at a faster pace than ever before -- injury and illness-free (with the exception of a couple of days of food poisoning last week, but I was tapering and it didn’t effect my workouts). 

It was likely the humidity – 97% – that knocked me off track. It’s been a long, cold, wet, and windy winter here. Yesterday was my first run in shorts in months and months, and only my second in a short-sleeve shirt; I’ve been running in leggings and layers – lots of wool. And while the temperature was quite nice in the early morning (and the rain mostly held off and the wind was mostly at my back), that all-of-a-sudden-holy-shit humidity was certainly a shock to the system.

I have another half marathon in 9 weeks – this one in Brooklyn – so I am letting myself have big feelings for a day or two and then moving on to the next training block. 

I’m not prepared to give up on that 1:50 goal – even though, I realize as I type this, it’s likely to be even hotter and just as humid.

And who knows what this country will look like in 9 weeks time.

I wasn’t going to win the race. Come on. I wasn’t going to win or even place in my age-group. I was, I will say, hoping to time-qualify for the 2026 NYC Marathon with my performance – I’m usually/almost fast enough.

I like racing. Maybe even love it. (You don’t need to respond with your contrary opinion here. I know that, much like running itself, it’s not everyone’s bag.) Me, I like the atmosphere, the crowds, even the race-day jitters -- all the things that prompt me to run faster than I would ordinarily. As a new athlete, I am still surprised (usually pleasantly) by what my body can do, and racing unlocks another level of capability, I find. And I find it helpful to sign up for a race, to set that as a goal -- it gives me something to train for.

Mostly, I simply enjoy training.

I love the routine, the repetition. I take more than a little pride in my consistency: I show up. You can count on me for that. I never really suffer from lack of motivation -- or rather, I don’t dwell too much on it the mornings I say to myself “ugh. I don’t wanna.” I don’t really need some sort of reward, although -- I won’t lie -- I do like how quiet my mind is when I run. I’ve learned to embrace what I now fondly call “jock brain” -- where my body has prioritized sending blood to my heart and lungs and legs and not my nervous system.

It might seem contrary to everything about my personality, my philosophy, my politics, but goddamn: give me a training plan to follow and I’ll dutifully do what it says. I’ll run the miles. I’ll hit the paces. Or at least, I’ll try.

I understand the importance of practice. You have to practice to get good, to get better. Nobody, even the most “naturally gifted” athletes (or writers), is “naturally gifted” enough without it.

But that’s not the story we always tell. We talk about “genius” and “talent” as though they’re innate and instantaneous. One of the things school (and more broadly, society) is supposed to do is help children understand the importance of practice – practice as a process, practice as a practice. 

Instead we focus on “the product” – not in the ever-unfolding, the becoming of personhood but in some thing you get at the end: the goal, the grade, the job, the score. 

Practice is drudgery, but necessary, useful insofar as it’s meant to minimize failure. And/or practice is punitive, a boring prelude to and enactment of disappointment and frustration. (Related, no doubt: running as punishment.) No surprise then, we have had to “gamify” it to bolster compliance. We struggle with motivation, with “engagement,” so technologies and systems have added all manner of bells and whistles – for children and for adults – to make this coercion, this obligation feel “fun.”

We have to have “grit,” we’re told. We have to have the right “mindset.” We have to be flexible, all while bending to the system’s expectations – the system of capitalism, of “technique”: invest in self-regulation and cheerily embrace compliance, we’re told, for a future maximized, optimized self. But we’re not stupid. We can see in all things everywhere that the risks and the dangers of failing are only growing – a good forecast, a positive outcome, whether in school or in work (or in the ability to race outdoors in decent weather, thanks to climate change) more precarious than ever.

No wonder people want the push-button world that AI and automation promise: no need to practice, no need for process. Only product, productivity matter – autogenerated without risk or accountability; all sort of the same product too, desperately, despondently average and mundane but in the end passable. Maybe no one will notice – “grit” not about excellence but simply “getting by.”

Grit your teeth and try to cope.