Grit, says the psychologist Angela Duckworth in her 2013 bestseller, is the hallmark
of high achievers in every domain. It is a combination of passion and perseverance
for a singularly important goal – something that may sound familiar to runners,
athletes, or anyone focused on achieving big dreams..
Duckworth is co-founder of the Character Lab, a nonprofit
that uses her research to support children’s development, and created the GRIT calculator to see quickly
how we measure up on the grit spectrum.
I heard about the GRIT Calculator on the Trail Runner Nation
Podcast’s interview
with Courtney Dauwalter. If any athlete is synonymous with grit, it’s Courtney.
Dauwalter is the undisputed queen of women’s endurance running, with her stable
of 200-mile victories crowned with last year’s UTMB title. She famously
continued running the Run Rabbit Run 100-miler after falling twice
and going unconscious.
So how did she score?
An impressive 4.4 out of 5.
After hearing the podcast, I wanted to know where I fell on
the grit scale. I think of myself as a fairly tenacious person – I’ve toiled
for years on a yet-to-be-published book, persevered through a 50-mile trail race,
and endured through nine years of grad school.
When I took the grit test, though, I scored 3.5 – which puts
me just below the average of all Americans for grit. At first this seemed
wrong – how could I be less gritty than the average American?
It turned out that my low scores came from items that
reflect a desire for newness and creativity, such as setting a goal and later
choosing a different one. I confess to a somewhat short attention span in my
creative endeavors – in addition to that book in progress, my creative history
is littered with a zillion half-finished screenplays, novels, nonprofit ideas, websites,
and various other crazy schemes.
I embrace this part of myself, but as I grow I’m trying to
devote my energy in more focused ways – such as my book and this website – and to
not let the glittering appeal of new shiny endeavors distract me too much.
For me, running is a safe sandbox to build grit. The rewards
are high, but the stakes are low – or more accurately, they are mine and mine
alone. No other person suffers if, say, I don’t break my P.R in this year’s
Dead Horse, or if I don’t complete the 100K race I’ve signed up for this
summer. If I do achieve those goals, though, I’ve shown myself just how
powerful building my grit can be.
Just as running is a metaphor for life, the skills we build
in the running sandbox are applicable to other areas of our life. I use the
gritty skills and habits I’ve developed through running to help me take on and persevere
through big tasks and achieve my grand dreams.
In the comments section below, let us know what the GRIT
test told you? Does it reflect your grit?
How have you built your grit up over time? And how has running assisted in that
growth?
It’s a crisp blue-sky fall afternoon and I’m gliding down the
Wapiti Trail, a serpentine swatch of singletrack in the foothills below Longs Peak.
I’m polishing off the final segment of an hour loop, descending through a glade
of Ponderosa Pines to an open meadow. Across the valley I can see the majestic summit
of Bear Peak, its flanks of evergreen trees turned a warm sage in the afternoon
sunlight.
As I gain speed on this last descent, I hook into that
elusive feeling of here-ness. I’m part of everything – the trees and mountains around
me, the trail, my body, my mind, the very laws of nature. For this moment, we
are all one together.
Now and then we have perfect moments on a run, those little
gifts in which we are truly connected and truly present. What those moments
have in common is the experience of oneness – or, to put it more philosophically,
the revelation of non-dualism.
The Story of Dualism
Dualism is a story about reality: the idea that we are
fundamentally separate from the rest of the world. We are separate agents who
act upon, or are acted upon, the outside world. Dualism says that our souls are
separate from the natural world; that we are separate from each other; and that
we are fundamentally separate from God.
Our Western belief system is deeply steeped in duality. The hallmark
feature of our dominant theistic system, monotheism, is the idea of a single, separate
God with dominion over its human subjects.
Descartes, perhaps the most famous dualist, argued that our
bodies are physical parts of the material world, but our minds are totally separate
from the physical world. William James imagined a physical realm in which our
mortal bodies live, and a separate immortal one where consciousness lives. Even
the ways we talk about cause and effect, and about such esoteric philosophical
topics as free will and determinism, are steeped in dualism.
Dualism Is An Illusion
But the story, is, alas, an illusion.
In fact, it’s the biggest con ever foisted on the human race.
The perpetrator we have to thank is evolutionary selection
pressure. Throughout our history, our brains evolved to serve its true master: our
selfish genes. Over time, our genes found the best way to transmit themselves
to successive generations was to produce for our consciousness a story of the
world.
This story helped us survive. Believing that the material
world was something separate from us helped us operate in a hostile world, enabling
essential tasks like fleeing predators and finding food. And belief that our little
group of humans was fundamentally different – and superior — to others may
have succeeded in making our tribes more resilient and stronger (and may have
helped deliver
victory over the competing Neanderthals).
The demon of duality may help meet our basic survival needs,
but it can be immensely damaging as well. It encourages us to believe we are
separate from each other, and that we are fundamentally different from other
living things. It encourages us to feel separate from nature and the physical
world.
When that happens, we care less about the physical world and
how it works. We eschew science. We see other humans – and, even more so, other
living things – as objects separate from us, and thus less deserving of our empathy
and consideration.
On a personal level, the demon of duality causes us detachment
and separation, a sense of emptiness and disconnection.
How To Embrace Non-Dualism
Fortunately, we can always break out of our dualistic
thinking. We may draw from Eastern belief systems, which have a stronger
tradition of non-duality. In various forms of Buddhism, for example, all things
are seen as inter-related and mutually dependent, an idea expressed by the
concept of sunyata, which simply
means “emptiness”.
In the West, we think of emptiness as a void needing
filling, which we fill with material objects or with the ongoing babble of our
endlessly chattering minds. In Buddhism, emptiness itself is the goal. It
refers to a liberation from the clutter that is not truth itself, but impedes
us from experiencing truth. It is the understanding that there is no “self”
that is not part of the greater whole. When we truly understand anatta, the doctrine of not-self, we
will have attained the state of nirvana,
a Sanskrit word which roughly means “disappearance” or “extinction” — the
extinction of the illusory belief in a self separate from the great Cosmos
itself.
In the Hindu school of Advaita
Vedanta, there is only one reality, Brahman. The essence of Brahman lives
in all of us in the form of atman –
literally, “breath”. Nonduality is at the heart of the Indian school of Madhyamika, in which an ultimate
nondualistic reality exists beyond the apparent duality of conventional and
absolute truth, and it is also underlies the Zen Buddhist concept of rigpa, or nondual awareness. In Tantra –
an ancient set of mystical traditions of Hinduism and Buddhism — humans are
not meant to transcend the world, but to absorb themselves into it, finding
bliss by experiencing the divine within one’s own body.
You already know that running is my favorite mechanism through
which to seek the experience nonduality. But there are other mechanisms, too,
such as meditation; becoming immersed in a creative pursuit; and psychoactive
drugs such as psilocybin. All can produce and enhance the experience of
unity.
The idea of the nondual soul is artfully expressed in the parable of Shvetaketu in
the ancient Hindu texts the Upanishads. The Vedic sage Uddalaka, in his ongoing
quest to try to convey the truth of existence to his arrogant son Shventaketu,
tells him to throw salt into a bowl of water and return in the morning. The
next day he asks Shvetaketu to retrieve the salt, but of course he cannot find
it, as it has dissolved. And yet the water tastes salty.
“You cannot make out
what exists in it, yet it is there,” says the teacher. “Likewise, though you
cannot hear or perceive or know the subtle essence, it is here. Everything that
exists has its Self in that subtle essence. It is Truth. It is the Self, and
you, Shvetaketu, you are That.”
Our souls are salt in the great cosmic water bowl. We are
unity, we are Brahman, we are all flying down the trail, fundamentally One.
Participation in trail running is skyrocketing, increasing
from 8.58 million runners in 2016 to approximately 9.15 million in 2017,
according to Statista. And a recent study found
participation in ultrarunning increased by 345% over the past ten years.
All these extra trail miles put extra pressure on those very
resources that make our sport possible. As a result, the trail running
community’s impact on the environment is the subject of some recent controversy.
A snarky
editorial in Outdoor magazine called out trail runners as “lazy parasites,”
claiming they have an outsize impact on the natural environments without doing
their fair share to clean it up. The mean-spirited tone of the piece (we wear
“weird little utility belts” and are part of the “scrawny Forrest Gump set.”) raised
the ire of the trail running community. While many contested its basic
argument, others agreed that trail runners should contribute more to protecting
the spaces its uses.
An irony of people spending more time in natural places is
that it can actually be beneficial to them. I often complain when my own
natural places get overcrowded, as I crave solitude and open space. Trying to
get into RMNP on a weekend morning in the summer can be an hour-long trial. And
yet, much as I think we need to protect natural spaces and quiet, this is a bit
of an entitled attitude.
First, Clean Up The Shit On The Trail
I’m not sure whether us trail runners are actually lazy
parasites, but we call all agree we ought to be mindful of the impact we have
on the trail and the crap we may deposit there.
Fortunately, the trail running community is paying greater
attention to protecting the spaces we use. Clare Gallagher is a
record-setting trail ultrarunner also known for being a vocal environmentalist. She stresses the
importance of becoming involved in the political process, knowing who your representatives
are and what they’re voting on.
Other high-profile trail runners, like Mike
Foote, have encouraged our community to help raise awareness about
the protection of public lands. Similarly, Run Wild is a
group of athletes seeking to protect public lands, spearheaded by ultrarunners
Hallie Fox and Emily Peterson.
We can each do our best to make sure none of the detritus of
our adventure — scraps of paper, edges of gel packets, used tissues – decorate
the trail behind us. If we are particularly mindful, we may pick up other people’s
trash – an exercise known as plogging.
(I admit I usually come up with excuses why I don’t do this – such as that I
don’t want to carry extra weight and besides, it’s not my trash – but
the fact is that the trash is there, and someone’s gotta pick it up, so kudos
to those who do).
Better yet, volunteer for a trail running and clean-up day
and get in your miles while spiffing up the trail.
Moreover, we can examine those activities likely to have
environmental impacts beyond damage to trails, such as the gasoline we burn to
drive (or worse, fly) to trailheads, the
new and expensive gear we may buy, or even the meat we may eat at our post-run
banquet.
Now Clean Up The Shit Inside Your Head
While you’re hard at working cleaning up the outside world,
why not spend a moment to clean up what’s inside your head? What mental garbage can you sweep up and toss
outside where it belongs? What are the discarded paper cups and torn foil
packets of your mind?
Here are some simple tips to keep your mind tidy while
you’re out on the roads or trails:
Focus on the task at hand: running. Allow
your other anxieties, to-do lists, and insecurities to float way. You don’t
need them now, and they’re just clutter.
Throw out your self-created garbage.
These are the scripts you repeat to yourself that remind you you’re not good
enough, you’re messing up, you’re an impostor – whatever the self-doubt you
repeat to yourself. Gently but firmly make note of these scripts and pack them
in your own mental garbage bag, then dump ‘em in the recycling bin where they
belong.
Make to-do lists. My mind often feels cluttered
by the many tasks, small and large, that compete for my attention during the
day. Making lists of what I need to do helps get that clutter into a manageable
form, and allows me to focus on just one of those tasks at a time, knowing that
the lists are keeping track of the others.
Practice gratitude. Remembering what
you’re grateful for clears out negative emotions in favor of positive and
constructive ones. It’s like replacing those tired old drapes in the living
room with some new blinds that let the sunlight in.
Get plenty of sleep. Adequate sleep is
associated with better health and elevated mood. Getting good sleep is, quite
literally, the brain’s way of doing a good housecleaning at the end of the day
to make sure things are in order in the morning.
One of my favorite free resources for all things trail is the Train Run Project, produced by REI. The app is an indispensable tool for route-finding on the go, but the website holds a wealth of information about virtually every runnable trail in the country.
I’ve used TRP extensively to find trails in Colorado, and I’ve also played around with it a bit on business trips out of state, searching for any runnable spots adjacent to my meetings. (On my last trip to Toledo, I found some lovely wooded trails just outside of town, and I’m already planning this 22 mile loop for a spring trip to Bentonville, Ark.).
States With The Most Trail Miles
Every state sports some trails, but which states lead the pack in terms of trail miles? I used TRP to calculate the total number of trail miles in each state.
Colorado leads the pack, followed closely by California. All of the top seven states are in the West, with its vibrant outdoor culture and huge tracts of land.
Top Ten States Ranked By Miles of Trail
Rank
State
Miles of Trail
1
Colorado
16,491
2
California
14,871
3
Washington
10,575
4
Montana
10,365
5
Oregon
9,327
6
Arizona
6,886
7
Wyoming
5,947
8
New York
5,811
9
North Carolina
5,405
10
Michigan
4,976
The map below cleary shows how trails are concentrated in mountainous areas (duh), but also that they favor the Rockies, the Pacific Northwest, and eastern seaboard.
States With The Highest Trail Density
Ranking states merely by trail miles is a bit of an unfair metric, as enormous states like Montana simply have more room for trails. Which states use their land best?
I estimated that by calculating each state’s number of trail miles relative to its land area. Washington, D.C., ranks first, with its 111 miles of trail packed into only 68 square miles of land. The next five states are all in New England, tiny in size but littered with trails through the White Mountains, Green Mountains, Presidential Range, and more.
Top Ten States Ranked By Trail Density
Rank
State
Density Index*
1
Washington, D.C.
38.30
2
Vermont
9.65
3
New Hampshire
5.69
4
Connecticut
5.55
5
Massachusetts
5.15
6
Colorado
3.73
7
Washington
3.73
8
New York
2.89
9
New Jersey
2.85
10
Maryland
2.72
*The Density Index reflects the number of trail running miles per state divided by the land area of each state, and is scaled so the U.S. average equals 1.00.
When I was 22, just out of college, I landed an entry-level
job in Boston and moved myself into a small room in a rambling old Victorian in
Somerville. After a brief wave of excitement — new places, new faces, my very own annual
salary — I fell into a gray and formless depression. I was at loose ends in a cold
city, lonely and struggling to transform from an awkward teenager into a confident
adult.
My case of depression, as cases go, was manageable, though
tough; I was still able to eat and run and phone in at least a half-assed
effort at work. Still, more than anything else, sadness marked my late
twenties, and breaking its curse took all the ammunition I could levy — psychotherapy,
running, music, writing, and eventually moving across the country to the
sunnier skies of Boulder.
My life now, I’m inexpressibly grateful to say, is marked
more by joy than by sadness, and as I’ve aged I’ve developed a much more stable
emotional temperament. I look back on the Andrew of those gray years with
affection and empathy, and a degree of gratitude. Overcoming those challenges
helped lead me to the life I have chosen today.
All of this came to mind when Rob Krar — he of this month’s
Trail
Runner cover and the winner of the 2018 Leadville 100, among many other
achievements – swung by my local run club
last fall. Rob has struggled with depression throughout his life, and I had a
chance to chat briefly with him on our social run. (I now can now proudly say I
battled with Rob Krar for the lead on a run, though I may not mention it was a 4-mile,
9-minute-mile jog on a bike path).
Rob related the story of winning the 2015 Western States 100 miler, the pre-eminent trail race in the United States. Pursuing a goal of that magnitude is an all-encompassing physical and emotional feat. After this capstone achievement, he returned home and sunk into a depression so severe that when a box arrived at his house seven days later, he didn’t open it. He knew it was his Western States winner’s trophy but was so depressed that his accomplishment was now a distant memory.
What Research Says About Running and Depression
Running, you may not be surprised to learn, is a potent
weapon against depression. Numerous
studies have demonstrated that exercise contributes to mental well-being.
Some of this effect may be due to the biochemical effects of exercise on our
brain, but running benefits our mood in many other ways. (While the effects of
exercise on mood are strong, they also vary by factors
including age and severity of symptoms).
Running helps us shift our brains from big-picture anxieties
to small, in-the-moment tasks of focusing on a goal, says
clinical psychologist Laura Fredendall. If we’re running in nature, we gain additional
mood-enhancing benefits. And combining running with meditation can be an
even more potent
antidote to depression. This may be because both activities affect the same
portions of the brain and promote focus and concentration, which are associated
with improved moods.
While running — and vigorous exercise in general — tends to soothe our bad moods, intense running experiences can have dramatic and unpredictable effects on our emotions. During the course of a single long run, we may experience dramatic mood swings. (This is why people refer to a 100-mile race as “life in a day”.)
When I ran my longest training run ever last summer – a 10-hour, 32-mile solo loop through Rocky Mountain National Park – I was elated in the first half, watching the rising sun paint Longs Peak in a wash of orange and purple and pink. By afternoon, my mood sunk. I ran the last ten sloggy miles through the afternoon gloom of a hailstorm, and wondered if, in fact, I ever really wanted to run again. Was I losing this thing I loved? Where did it suddenly disappear to?
Part of this mood swing I can chalk up to experience: I’d
never run such a distance, I wasn’t prepared for the emotional up and down, and
I probably hadn’t eaten enough calories throughout the day. Even so, mood
swings during such a physically and mentally intense activity are inevitable.
By morning when I’d had some rest and, importantly, some food, the light slowly
filtered back.
Depression is Human — And Beatable
Hearing Rob Krar’s story was reassuring, in a way: it’s a
reminder that depression or blue moods are normal and human, and need not block
us from productive and healthy lives.
When dark moods to creep up in my life, I attack them with an
assortment of strategies I’ve found work for me. Running, of course, is one of
the cornerstones of this prescription, and even a couple miles on a treadmill can
do wonders for my mood in the dead of winter.
I’ve also found developing a regular habit of mindfulness
helpful, particularly the Buddhist-inspired practice of non-attachment. When
the dark form of depression happens to crop up on the horizon, I don’t fear it as
in inherent aspect of my identity. Instead, I observe it at a remove, knowing
that it will soon pass, just as the tough parts of a long run soon vanish into
the past once we’ve overcome them.