Tonight I saw a good friend who I haven’t seen for the while, so of course, I had to make him look at my marathon medal. No, I wasn’t actually wearing it, and I don’t even always carry it with me, but since I knew I was going to be seeing him I came prepared. And yes, I also made him look at the medal I got for running the Twin Cities Ultra Summit Challenge (a 5K, 10 Mile, and Half Marathon in 2017 in addition to the Marathon).

22137319_10155040548103806_6395366604920630979_o
The Medals. Yes, I think the one on the right looks like a hunk of cheese. Yum.

So I’m going to indulge in some more marathon reflecting. More specifically, a compare and contrast between running a marathon and being in a play, as three weeks after I ran the TC Marathon I had a lead role in  “Panache.”

Tackling two such intensive undertakings back-to-back was exhausting and exhilarating, and I couldn’t help but think about the similarities and differences. The biggest similarity is acting and running (at least at this scale) both take a lot of time and discipline. They both require pushing through boredom (“argh I do NOT want to spend any more time learning my lines/running”) and doubt (“I CAN’T DO THIS! Why did I ever think I could this? Why do I want to do this?”).

It might seem weird that runners often get nervous before a race (I certainly do) but I think that is a normal reaction for any situation where the stakes seem high. You’ve put a lot of time into preparing for this, and so much could go wrong. But although I was worried about the marathon and how everything would go, for me, acting is more nerve-wracking.

This might seem obvious…there is an audience (hopefully) watching you if you’re in a play, but the spectators at a race aren’t there to observe in the same way. Yes, I did do my best to wave at friends that I ran past and to give a good performance as I crossed the marathon finish line because I knew there was a camera, but there wasn’t the same expectation to entertain.

The key difference is your responsbility to other people. While I couldn’t have a lead in a play or run a marathon without the support of other people, the impact these endeavors has on others definitely varies. At the end of the day, I knew my marathon performance really only affected me–unless I tripped and fell and knocked over a bunch of other people.

Sure, my loved ones would feel happy or sorry for me based on how I did in the marathon, but that’s not nearly the same as being on stage with me if I forgot my lines. I would be the only one suffering for the 4-5 hours of the race (in reality, a time of 4:16:34 in case you forgot…) but a stage meltdown could mire me, my fellow actors and the audience in an extremely awkward experience.

The flip side is there isn’t anyone else to rely on if you get in a jam during the race. Yes, there are people to cheer you on and encourage you and medics to pick you up if you are totally done, but no one can run that race for you. And while no one else can say your lines for you, they may be able to cover for you or feed you a line (even if they are pissed off  about it).

Not sure what this all means, except that I’m really grateful that I’ve had both of these opportunities to challenge myself and hope I’ll have more. And both of these hobbies involve my body, mind, and spirit in ways that I never realized. Acting is way more physical than I ever guessed (not as demanding as running for hours and hours but you don’t just stand around and talk) and running is definitely a mind game. Most importantly, both running and acting involve feeling all of the feels and making yourself vulnerable and taking big risks.

Both activities also throw my eating and drinking habits way off balance. Or, more accuately, give me an excuse to eat and drink like a madwoman.

That does bring up another important difference…I have much more control about if I run another marathon and don’t have to compete to be in one (unless I want to run Boston). As long as I think I can run a marathon and want to do it, I just need to be able to afford the registration fee and I’m in. There are definitely times when I wish the rules of acting were the same.

I guess I alway have the option of writing my own one-woman shows and peforming them for the cats.

And I should get a medal for being a show. And going to work. And unloading the dishwasher.

 

 

 

Posted in

Leave a comment