That love being running, of course. So, what’s in a word, I often find myself asking. Runners are not normal folk. For example, they don’t talk about food, they talk about fuel. To ordinary folk, fuel is coal, wood or petrol and the like, and you chuck it in your car, or on your fire. Certainly not down your neck. The use of particular words within the realms of this sport is something I often ponder whilst out on my runs. Even the word ‘sport’ conjures up something completely different to what I feel I am participating in.
The power of words has long since been recognised, particularly in the realms of marketing. Farrow et al even went as far as to describe words as:
..strategic instruments of influence
which I kind of like. Okay, let’s get back to the fuel thing. Personally, I’ve had a less-than-healthy relationship with food over the years, which I have unpicked and come to accept that no one, particular reason can be attributed to this. It’s complex. I use food as punishment and reward. It comforts me and it pains me. I have trouble distinguishing the difference between hunger, thirst, and boredom. I also really enjoy my food. It’s a multi-sensory experience that I revel in. Perhaps I could benefit by thinking of my food as fuel? Or even talking about my food as fuel.
The next word in my cross-hairs is race. I have trouble talking about races that I have entered. I prefer run or challenge. Currently, I am a mid-pack runner when it comes to shorter distances, but I do have a competitive streak which manifests itself as a strong desire to pass the person in front, and a feeling of incredulity when they steam past me later on. So does that mean I’m actually competing in a race, then? So how about over longer distances where my aim is to beat the dreaded chop times and actually cross the finish line; revel in that sense of accomplishment that I’ve just run a ridiculous distance without dying? Am I still racing?
Here’s one final word to deconstruct: athlete. Let’s take the Oxford English Dictionary’s definition:
a person who is proficient in sports and other forms of physical exercise
It can also refer to someone who competes in track and field events, but for now let’s embrace the linguistically evolutionary definition highlighted above. I often describe myself as a runner, sometimes even a plodder depending on whom I’m talking with. Never, ever an athlete. Let’s examine that more closely. I demote myself to plodder status when I’m talking with friends who run great distances with impressive paces. I want to go running with them but I’m afraid that I am too unfit and/or slow to keep up, and I will be a burden, ruining their run. So I tell them I’m a plodder, just so they know what they are letting themselves in for. Conversely, I’ve had friends excuse their way out of running with me for what I can only assume are the same reasons. Moving back to the athlete bit; surely in order to run 50km without keeling over requires a certain level of proficiency? If that’s the case, since I can run 50km without keeling over, I am a proficient runner. That makes me.. an athlete!
I reckon we all need to be more aware of the language we use. It’s all too easy to use descriptors with which to flagellate ourselves. The flipside is that we can use words to step up in terms of self-perception. In their book, ‘Words Can Change Your Brain‘, Dr Andrew Newburg and Mark Waldman state that words have the power to influence gene expression, especially those genes pertaining to physical and emotional stress. How amazing is that?
I am of the opinion that there is a definite link between mental wellbeing and the words we select when describing ourselves and our behaviours. If we don’t give ourselves the credit we deserve, or even cut ourselves a little bit of slack when it comes to our shortcomings, this can manifest itself as self-deprecating talk which can, in turn, hobble our performance out on the trails. If this is to be true, choosing to use self-affirming language would have the opposite effect on our performance. Fellow athletes, I urge you to give it a try. Mix up your words and beast those trails.
