Running a Marathon—Or, the Problem of Ambition

And you may ask yourself, “Well, how did I get here?” Talking Heads, “Once in a Lifetime”

Recently, I posted here about the inner critic who reminds me not to want too much—a donut, say, or a marathon finish. A friend asked about the donut/marathon analogy. Surely, she said, a marathon involves too much suffering to count as self-indulgence.

Which got me thinking about the problem of women and “too much.” In her excellent book, Monsters, Claire Dederer tackles the question directly, linking it to the problem of women owning their ambition. She recounts a male friend telling her about his very important book, a description Dederer goes on to quote for laughs when describing her own work to others. And then Dederer asks, “But, really, what’s so funny about saying your life’s work is important?” She goes on: “Ambition and self-confidence are all bound up together. Ambition is the thing that men have. …It turns out that this is not such an easy word, for women.”

To say, as a woman, “I am ambitious,” is to invite a range of responses, most immediately: “Who do you think you are?” Where, for men, being ambitious might simply signal a desire to do well in a chosen profession or to pursue a goal outside of work that involves challenges and determination, for women, it’s more like naming a character flaw. “Look at me, I am a selfish person. I am willing to make other people suffer so that I can succeed. Because if I’m thinking about myself, I’m not thinking about everyone else.”

Which brings us to the marathon. Ten years ago this month, I bought my first pair of trainers—that is, running shoes for running–in thirty years. I was shopping for a pair of runners for my daughter, home from university for the holidays, and they had a “buy one, get the second pair 50% off” deal on. I decided on my goal right there in the store: to run 5 km. Looking back, this was actually quite a large ambition, because it broke a pattern of twenty years, which involved not taking seriously exercise of any kind. I know there are amazing women out there running marathons in between domestic and work shifts. Me–I would have lost my mind if there had been one more item on my to-do list while I raised two kids and held down a job. But, at fifty, I had more time available. With my new sneakers on, I reclaimed my love of running. And then I wanted it all—the shoes, the watch, the sun glasses, and, a couple of years later, the marathon.

A marathoner cannot hide her ambition. She devotes hours to training. She goes to bed early. She frets, she obsesses, she consults with other runners, she joins a club. She has a plan. She has a goal. She needs to get to the start line uninjured, and then she needs to finish what she’s started.

There’s no pretending that you’re heading out for a jog around the block.

A few weeks ago, as my nephew and I stared down marathons we were about to run, I messaged him, “Remind me again why we sign up for this?” And he replied, “Because sometimes you have to do hard things!” That’s how I define ambition—it’s the desire to do hard things. It can be writing a book, it can be running a marathon, it can be trying something strange or unsettling—like therapy, or not drinking. You slog through the muck of feelings and effort. You quiet the voice that tells you to let it go, that it’s too much.  You do the work because you’ve set yourself the task.

Ambition implies forward movement and that can create problems when we don’t allow ourselves to stop or slow down. I hope I can set ambition aside when it isn’t helping me. I’m looking forward to retirement, when I can let go of the ambition I’ve attached to my job. But I have miles to go before I sleep, and I look forward to pursuing new goals.

And you?