One of my first 100-mile races ended unceremoniously. I had been running in the hot forest all day. The final stretch of the race followed a road that meandered through a town and ended in a pavilion. It was dark out, and I am not great with maps when I am fully rested and lucid, let alone 98 miles into a run.
I took a wrong turn and was wandering through the countryside alone — fretting about my whereabouts and life choices — when a police officer found me and directed me to the finish.
Sabrina Little discovered early that running can often be a humbling experience. Photo courtesy of Sabrina Little.
It was a humbling experience. Running is often a humbling experience. I fall. I lose. I aim to run paces that my legs are unprepared for. I ascend big hills that squash my enthusiasm. And 98 miles into a race, I get lost on an open road instead of finishing with my dignity intact.
So, when I write about pride as a pitfall for runners, it makes me laugh. In the same way that you do not have to wash soap because it is self-cleansing, maybe you don’t have to worry about pride in a sport that humbles you at every turn (1). Nevertheless, I think pride is a problem for us, and its damages are severe enough that it is worth investigating what pride is and why we should try to avoid it.
The Concept
There is a certain kind of pride which is not a vice. It is a feeling of pleasure in a job well done, or satisfaction with one’s own good choices. We can experience it toward ourselves, the way we do when we perform good work, or toward others, the way parents often do toward their children. Maybe pride is not the best word for this feeling, but it is the word we often use (2).
There is second kind of pride, which is a character deficiency. It consists of overvaluing oneself, or of aiming higher than what one really is (3). It is mistaken about its capabilities and its importance, as compared to others, and its striving is insatiable. Pride has an inordinate desire for its own excellence, which crowds out worthier goods (4).
Pride is serious enough that Aquinas considers it the root of all sins (5). It inclines us toward other vices, such as vainglory, deception, and envy. So, what should we know about pride as runners? What does pride forget?
Pride forgets at least four things.
Our Limits
In the Greek myth of Icarus, Icarus wears makeshift wings to escape from a labyrinth. Ignoring the advice of his father, his hubris leads him to fly too high. His wings melt, and he plunges to the earth. This is a cautionary tale about pride.
The running equivalent of Icarus — of flying too close to the sun — is running too much, too quickly, or with insufficient rest. We override our limits and eventually crash, maybe not immediately, but at some point.
Sometimes we override our limits because we are unsure about where our limits are located. Other times, we do so because we receive bad guidance from coaches or peers. Sometimes we exceed our limits from pride. We have godlike pretensions and make ourselves out to be an exception from training principles. “Other people need rest, but not me!” We think we can handle more than others can, and we justify training above our means.
What makes this pattern confusing is that we often see ascendant figures in the sport accomplish amazing feats. They train unsustainably, flying too close to the sun like Icarus, and often their tenure in the sport is brief. But there is more than one Icarus. When one disappears, another Icarus emerges to replace him, also willing to make the same tradeoffs for short-term gains. These athletes generate a lot of attention. This can leave the impression that unsustainable training is necessary for success in distance running. It is not.
If we want to have long running lives — and healthy lives in general — we need to pay attention to the feedback our bodies give and be willing to rest. We need to run sustainably, within our means. This requires that we occupy the sport with humility.
Sabrina Little persevering to the end of the 2017 Lake Sonoma 50 Mile. Photo: Drymax Socks/Bob MacGillivray
That There Are Other People
There are two ways to enter a room: “Here I am” and “There you are.” Pride does the former. It makes every situation about itself because pride overvalues itself as compared to others. Young people refer to this approach as “main character energy (6).”
When you live this way, your world becomes small and turned inward. You damage relationships and hurt other people through your self-importance. You also miss opportunities to learn from others. Pride forgets that it is not the only person who matters.
Our Dependence on Others
I recently went on a work trip. I flew there and was away from my family for 36 hours. As I said goodbye to my host, he thanked me for coming, but he also extended gratitude to my family for my absence. Specifically, he thanked my husband, who was home with our kids, brushing all of their teeth and doing my share of the bedtime routines.
Nothing is achieved alone. Personally, I am utterly dependent on my husband’s goodwill and diligence when I travel, and all our successes are shared. This is true of an academic career, but it is also true of running.
In running, we rely on aid station workers, training partners, competitors, families, coaches (present and former), and friends. So, while the trope of the lonely long-distance runner is how our sport is popularly conceived, it could not be further from the truth. We only succeed in running because of the love and material support of others. Pride forgets this.
Pride opposes what Alasdair MacIntyre calls the virtues of “acknowledged dependence (7).” We are fragile, finite, and not self-caused. Even the most independent runners depend on others to flourish.
Sabrina Little out for a run with her daughters, Frances (left) and Lucy, and husband David. Photo courtesy of Sabrina Little.
That We Are (Probably) Wrong
There is a lot of learning and unlearning that occurs over the course of a long running life. When I was a kid, I learned how to stay in place and persist longer than I thought I could. Then I learned how to be brave in races. At some point, I learned how to make running bigger — to take up space in my life so I could maximize performance outcomes. Now I am learning the opposite.
I once learned running for speed. I am unlearning that, to some extent. Now I am learning about family stroller runs at leisurely paces. I once learned optimization and precision. Now I am learning stewardship of my body. I am learning that there are many goods in a rich life, not just sports. I am unlearning letting the quality of training runs dictate how I feel about my days.
It is humbling to learn new ways to occupy the sport. But the alternative is continuing to train in ways that no longer make sense in your life. Occupying the sport with humility means you are open to correction and redirection. This is invaluable across the many seasons of life.
Final Thoughts
To be clear, pride is not the same thing as aiming high. Striving for excellence is not inherently a problem. Aquinas introduces the virtue of humility alongside a second virtue — magnanimity. Magnanimity “strengthen[s] the mind against despair, and urge[s] it on to the pursuit of great things according to right reason (8).” The magnanimous person knows what she is capable of. She aims high within her means, striving for good things without failing to recognize her dependence on others.
This is important to mention because, in avoiding pride, the goal is not to be mousy or to cease striving. Striving for excellence is part of a good life. We just need to do so in ways that are not inordinately transfixed by the pursuit of our own greatness, at cost to worthier goods.
Aiming high is not the same as pride. Photo courtesy of Sabrina Little.
Call for Comments
- Has pride been a pitfall in your running?
- How do you manage pride in other areas of your life?
Notes/References
- S. Little. 2024. The Examined Run. Oxford University Press, 178.
- S. Little. 2024, 149.
- Aquinas, Summa Theologiae II.2.162.1.
- Aquinas. Summa Theologiae II.2.162.2, C. A. Boyd, “Pride and Humility,” in Virtues and Their Vices, ed. K. Timpe and C. A. Boyd (Oxford University Press, 2014), pp. 248 – 250.
- Aquinas, Summa Theologiae II.2.162.7.
- Shout out to my college students for keeping me updated on the hip new lingo.
- A. MacIntyre. 1999. Dependent Rational Animals: Why Human Beings Need the Virtues. Chicago: Open Court.
- Aquinas. Summa Theologiae II.2.161.1
