You're more than a number.
You're more than your race times.
Don’t Become a Number
Don’t shrink yourself to a course outline. Don’t become a time, an outfit in the pack, a piece of data, a ranking, a list of podium finishes, a wake-up alarm. Don’t tie yourself to a graph. The moment you reduce yourself to a number, you give away the magic. Numbers belong in the places you aren’t. They should never take your place. Numbers only help tell your story just a little bit better.
This one is very apparent in the running world, particularly in the track space—or really, in any competitive running space. We often label people based on their time: “Oh, they’re a 15-minute guy,” or “They’re a 4-minute runner,” whether we’re talking about their 1500-meter time, their marathon, or maybe their 100-mile time. It’s wild how we reduce people to numbers and times. I still do it. It happens in conversations with my friends. We refer to people by their number: “Oh, they’re a 2:20 marathon runner.” But hold up—there’s so much more to that person. We take this reductionist stance and label people, acting as if that’s all they are.
One of my favorite runners, Tommy Rivs, talked about this once on the Rich Roll podcast. He said, “I hope, in the end, that I’m remembered for more than just being a 2:17 marathon runner.” He’s a father, a poet, an incredible human. There’s more to life than just being a 2:17 marathon runner. I think about that a lot, even with this book. It’s one of the biggest things: I know, as a fact, from all the people I run with, they are so much more than just the times and distances they run or the podiums they’ve collected.
When I’m browsing running channels on YouTube, they’ll put up all the accolades and achievements of professional runners, and I think to myself, “Well, I kind of want to know what they’re like as a human. Are they kind? What do they do in their free time? What do their friends say about them?” I think that’s so much more important. We love to get caught up in the numbers. We love only to talk about times, achievements, medals, and records. But all those things—one day, we’ll forget about them. My great-great-great-grandkids won’t care what my 5000-meter time was, how far I ran, or if I ran 100 miles. Most of these things are irrelevant.
For me, I’m more curious about what kind of person we can be. Why don’t we talk about the kind of humans we are? The greater discussion might be in the way we talk about ourselves… Again, why do we reduce ourselves to a few numbers and times? We’re so much more than the times we run or the Strava graphs we meticulously build. We’re more than our three-month training block. We’re more than the outfits we wear or the rankings we achieve.
If you’ve ever come across my first book, Why Aren’t You Thoughts Worth Thinking?, one of the end poems in that book is Numbers Game, which again alludes to this idea that we are immeasurable and so much more than a number or a graph. As the world gets faster and busier, and we become more obsessed with social media, likes, and views, it’s important to remember: how do we make people feel? When we strip ourselves or isolate ourselves to just a number, we miss out on all the beautiful things in life and everything that is real.
"Numbers only help tell your story just a little bit better," I think numbers can definitely provide context and add to a story, but they shouldn’t be the main story. If you ever get caught up in the numbers, just pause, step back, and remember: you’re a human first, not a number. Look for the magic in everyday life. Don’t lose that. Don’t give it away.
Big Love,
JL
Love this!