Sadist
– noun
1. Any enjoyment in being cruel
2. The enjoyment in inflicting pain or suffering on others
When people think of athletes, they see the external, focused individual, with one clear goal in mind, winning. One must ask, where does this sense of competitiveness come from?? How has this competitive streak been instilled in their minds if they mainly have to train in solitude??
The runner is an unusual individual. They get up early in the morning, when common sense and all logical human instinct would tell them to stay in bed. They run on their own and push themselves to their extreme limits day in and day out, without reward. Neighbours see them passing their windows as they eat their breakfast, trying to comprehend why someone would torture themselves for what seems like a pointless sport, yet the runner perseveres. When does the runner get the opportunity to compete before a race.
Runners, on occasion, get the opportunity to train with friends. When this happens, they have to take full advantage. Its not often, outside of races, they can see how far they have progressed, to see have all those early mornings actually paid off. It’s an opportunity which must be grabbed with both hands.
The evening is cold, bitterly so. The frost from the night before has not cleared all day. The clear evening sky does not offer much hope of more welcoming conditions. The runners look outside, and know that this is their chance for a trial run.
The runners can be compared to warriors of old; determined not to let their opponent have even the slightest advantage, the psychological sparring begins. Each taunts the other, comparing personal bests and achievements from mornings past. They prepare themselves for the race ahead. The reflective jackets are put on, laces tied, bottles of water in hand. They walk out and begin their warm ups. The sparring continues. They start off at a slow jog.
As they begin leaving the familiar surrounds of their neighbourhood for roads less traveled, they reassure each other that they are in fact both capable athletes. They exchange stories of near misses, personal bests, races where they felt they could have done better. This may seem like an end to the mind games, but it is merely the foreword to the debate. Each, knowing the tricks of old, try to lull their opponent into a false sense of security.
The first kilometer is completed in a slow pace of 5:30 minutes. Each are well aware that this pace is well below what they are capable of. The friendly chatter is soon finished when one runner turns to the other and says “How are you finding the pace?”. This is clearly a declaration of war. With this subtly cloaked inquiry, the pace suddenly picks up. They hold back from releasing their full potential, knowing that this energy is needed for the final sprint home, the winning and losing of the race.
The second kilometer comes and goes, as does the third. Each runner has by now loosened up. They are running free and have eased into a rhythm. Knowing their capabilities, and the distance that they are familiar with, they set the overall distance of the race to a comfortable 10k. By now they have determined what their pace needs to be increased to and when best to strike. They continue their stories, ensuring to let their opponent know that they have completed more testing trials.
They ease onto the 7th kilometer. Knowing the end is near, they pick up the pace almost in sync. The pace is now at 4:30min/km. They test each other, taking the lead by a few strides, each time their opponent responds, and counter strikes. This continues intermittently. One each strike, they turn to their opponent and ask in an almost sympathetic tone “is the pace okay?”. This is instantly rebutted in a positive tone, “oh, jaysus, I’m fine, you want to pick the pace up a bit, we’re getting close to home”. This is the first decisive blow to an ego.
On the start of the 8th kilometer, they enter their racing pace. The pace has increased to 3:50min/km. They begin to feel the ache of the lactic acid. The burn intensifies which each step. Determined not to let the other gain an advantage, they strive to ignore any pain as they cannot lose. They match each other, stride for stride. They welcome the familiarity of their neighbourhood. Passing the landmarks which they have passed every day, they use these as markers, letting them know when best to strike. One looks to their competitor and notices that they are beginning to struggle. This is their chance. It can be won here. Still with energy in reserves, this is a chance to give their failing adversary a false glimmer of hope. They increase the pace slightly, knowing now that every step feels like a sledgehammer against their muscles. The fitter knows how this feels, they too have shared this pain before. But this time is different, this is their chance to banish the memories of struggles past.
They enter the final kilometer. The pace is now at 3:30km/min. This is a struggle. The finish line is now in sight. The struggling foe now looks ready to collapse. Eager to enjoy the sprint for the line, the energetic runner offers genuine encouragement. They need to see their adversary get to the line, they need to have them see them win. They know that they are inflicting pain on their “friend”. They know how much this hurts, yet, nevertheless, they encourage them.
The final 50meters have arrived, and now the more prepared of the runners makes their dash for the line. They too have been hurting over the last kilometer, but had enough in reserves for this last gasp dash. Sprinting for the gate, they lose their breath. Their body requires more oxygen than the body is able to take in. A stitch explodes into existence with a force the runner believes to be akin to that of the big bang. They now begin to feel sympathy for their counterpart who they abandoned in search of this victory. With every joule of energy that remains in their now throbbing body, they make that last leap for the finish line. Just as the pain becomes intolerable, its over. They are relieved that its over. They must wait for a brief moment before their rival falls over the line.
Its over. They both have survived the final assault on their bodies. They praise each other, and the efforts that they have put in. The winner gloats over the lack of fitness and ability of their counterpart. The runner enjoyed both winning the race, and also the manner in which they won it. They watched on as their friend struggled to keep up, watched idly by as they began to succumb to the burn of lactic acid, yet took pleasure in the fact that they were able to resist slowing and had the ability to sprint home for the finish.
Yes, runners are sadists, but the loser, on another day, given the opportunity, will do the same.
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