Running a Marathon is Like Climbing a Mountain
What the video game Celeste, Grinnell Glacier, and running a marathon have in common.
Greetings! As you may have noticed, there was no Running on Sentences last week, even though I fully intended there to be an issue. I think I overestimated my ability to write when helping Kimberly after her labral repair surgery. Having hip surgery is a big deal! My brain translated being at home all week to “so much writing time” when in reality that was an unrealistic projection for the future. Regardless, we’re back this week and I’ve had double the time to mull over what I wanted to write about.
I met with Coach Dana before I even started marathon training so we could get to know each other. She wanted to know about my running history, my current activity level, my marathon-specific goals, and most importantly, why I signed up for a marathon in the first place. I didn’t have a “why” at the time. I’ve always wanted to run a marathon and that seemed like enough of a why to me. Before we parted ways at our initial meeting she told me to think deeply about my why because there would come a day, a week, maybe even a month, where marathon training would grind me down. I’d want to do anything other than lace up my shoes and go on a run, and when I’m under what feels like insurmountable pressure, I’ll need to lean back on my “why.”
Well, it happened. The past three weeks of training have been the most arduous three weeks of training to date and there were indeed days when the last thing I wanted to do was go on a run.
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A few weeks ago I started playing the video game Celeste.
I don’t play many video games and by that I mean I often play video games, but my range (so-to-speak) is quite limited. I’m on a permanent rotation of Hades, Dead Cells, The Sims 4, and, now, Celeste.
In Celeste, you play as a young woman named Madeline who, despite her anxiety and depression, has decided to climb Celeste Mountain. Along the way she meets a colorful cast of characters including a mirror of herself called “Part of You” in the game, but referred to as “Badeline” by fans and players. Badeline is the mirror of Madeline, and tries to convince Madeline to stop climbing the mountain. She’s a whirlwind of doubt and second-thoughts. In the game’s first level, Madeline has to literally out-run her other self to continue the climb.
The video game is hard. It’s one of the hardest games I’ve ever played. Even my brother admitted it is hard, and he’s a certified Gamer who has played it through several times. It’s so hard, in fact, the game keeps track of your “deaths.” Each time you fall off the mountain, get stabbed by ice, or find yourself in any other unsavable situation, you die. Once you complete a level, you watch the little death counter go up, up, up.
Usually in video games, knowing how many times I died (and it’s usually a lot) would make me want to give up. But like Hades, the game reframes death. The game designers know the game is hard and they put it together so the player would understand the trials Madeline faces as she climbs the mountain. Whenever she dies, she respawns in less than five seconds to try again, and try again, and try again until she leaps, climbs, runs, and jumps across the screen to make it to the next checkpoint.
I like the game, despite its difficulty, because of the challenge. When I played Hades, the rogue-like where you play as the son of Hades attempting to escape the Greek underworld (also called Hades), I had to learn how to be bad at something. It took me 100 tries to make my first escape and another five months to beat the game. I’m not even done with Celeste and have well over 2,000 deaths, but with each one, my determination only grows. Even when I spent 45 minutes on one tiny, confounding level, I didn’t give up. I didn’t close the game to never return. I just kept trying.
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The week before my 10.5 mile run I went to the ER and spent most of the week alternating between sleeping and taking nausea medicine. The day after my 10.5 mile run, Kimberly had surgery. I felt a deeply rooted exhaustion. I thought it could be the run, but it was probably stress. But it might have been the run, too, all my exhaustion and stress compounding on one another.
I ran last Tuesday, and then had to face myself on Wednesday. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t go on the run. I was too tired, too this, too that. I reached the point Dana warned me about — and sure, I have a lot going on, but marathon training doesn’t stop for life. Sometimes things are harder, sometimes you have to push a little further to reach the next milestone, landmark, or save point.
Last summer, I was in Glacier National Park hiking the Grinnell Glacier trail. It’s a 10-mile out-and-back, and as we got closer to the summit, the trail grew steep and rocky. Instead of walking, I felt like I was climbing up gravel through the hot Montana sun, and climbing, and climbing, and I kept going, hoping that I’d see the glacier in the distance. I knew it would be worth it, if I could just make it. But I didn’t want to go any further. My legs hurt. I was out of breath. The voice in my head reminded me that I was not fit enough for this; I wasn’t ready for this; I didn’t deserve to make it to the end. I should just turn around, cut my losses, and hike back. I’d seen enough beauty already. My Badeline didn’t want me to keep going. Was she trying to protect me?
Running a marathon is difficult because of the physical impact on the body, yes, but it’s also difficult because it requires a lot of mental fortitude and a lot of energy. Training for a marathon requires that I make sacrifices in daily life so I can run for four hours on Sunday and three separate times during the week. It’s not just running, and when I think back to my naivete before starting all of this, I’m not sure if I fully understood how important it was for me to have a why.
That’s why I connect so deeply with Madeline in Celeste. She climbs the mountain to challenge herself and her anxiety. She climbs the mountain to contend with Badeline and to prove to herself she can do it. With the controller in my hands, I want her to achieve what I know she can do.
I have my own Badeline. She makes me sad and sluggish. She thrives on apathy and giving up when it gets too hard, because there’s no reason to try anything if I can’t succeed. She makes life seem like an overwhelming ocean crashing over me and into me, a tide that wants to drug me under.
The beautiful piece of Celeste is that Madeline realizes Badeline cannot be banished because, for all her faults, Badeline is Madeline. The piece of myself that wants to give up when it gets hard isn’t the bad part of me, it’s just me. And when I have those days where I want to do anything other than lace up my sneakers, start my watch, and go on a run, I remember that I can keep going despite the piece of me that says otherwise.
So, what is my why? I’m running a marathon because I can run a marathon. This is me proving to myself that if I want to do something, I can make it happen, even if it seems far-off and unlikely.
I can climb the mountain — sweaty, thirsty, and dirty — to see the glacier greeting me in the distance.
It's all clicking for you! You're taking even more from this experience than you're putting in it - and that's A BUNDLE! The marathon is not about the race - it's the mirror that it holds up for you to see yourself.
Yes, there must be a "why!" This applies to so many hard, painful things. You got this!