Racing to Win: Running and the Looking Glass Self

By Karen Sternheimer

As I mentioned in my last post, I recently ran my first  trail race. I entered a local 22k race, also called a “heavy half;” at 14.5 miles and more than 2,300 feet of elevation gain, the race is longer than a half marathon (13.1 miles), and the elevation puts the “climb factor” at 19 percent. This means the course requires the same amount of energy as a flat run of about 17 miles.

I felt physically prepared to run this race; I had a plan, and it was a course that I am very familiar with, so I had a good idea of what to expect. The biggest unknown for me was the impact of the other participants, reminding me of Charles Horton Cooley’s concept of the “looking glass self.”

Think of this as our perception of ourselves through what we imagine to be the lenses of others. We then react to our perception of others’ reactions. Part of our sense of self is rooted in what we think others think of us.

Before the race I was less nervous about running more than I had ever run before, and was mostly nervous about the other people, what they might think of me, and what I might in turn think about myself.

• What if they are all much younger, stronger, and/or faster than me?
• What if my race time compares poorly with others’?
• What if they all seem to know each other and I’ll feel like an outsider?

“Run your own race” is a mantra I’ve heard ultra-runners repeat. From what I have read about events like these, one of the biggest pitfalls is trying to keep up with the fastest runners, yielding to the excitement of the crowd, starting off too fast and burning out early. Yes, it’s paradoxically possible to go too fast in a race. Would I be able to run my own race, or would I succumb to the pull of wanting to “fit in?”

I had no expectations of “winning” or even placing. I just wanted to have fun and finish. So, imagine my surprise when I learned that I came in the top ten—barely, at number 10—and was the fourth among women and first in my age and gender group!

My "looking glass self”—based on my comparison with others, and what I presumed others might have thought of me—was feeling pretty good. One of the fastest runners in the race complimented me on my speed, apparently verifying that yes, I belonged there. The “looking glass self” reflected a positive image, which I internalized and felt proud about.

The race was a lot of fun, and feeling that I performed well led me to sign up for another half marathon just two weeks later. This one wasn’t as close to home, and I wasn’t as familiar with the trails. I started off in front and felt a bit of shame as throngs of people—“real runners” I told myself—passed me by. Just a few miles in, I felt my hip flexors tighten up and hills became difficult. This was a humbling development, but I managed to finish and beat my goal time (and come in first for my age/gender again). Despite telling myself that this was a physical reminder that I am still a novice, my perception of the perception of others was intact. They didn’t know I developed a problem, and I still finished and compared well to others even with this limitation.

I signed up for another longer race—30k—giving me a new training focus. Would I have signed up if not for the feeling of pride that I am at least as good as many other participants? My perception that others thought I was a “real runner,” including an acquaintance who runs ultra-marathons? Was I becoming a member of a new group, building a new identity as a competitive trail runner? I signed up for a few trail running newsletters and magazines and bought more gear for the upcoming races.

When my recovery took longer that I expected, I decided to cancel a few weeks before the race. I was disappointed, not just because I enjoyed the previous events, but because it separated me from this new sense of identity I was developing.

 Next time:  What is it like to become a new member of a group?

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