What Are We Having for Dinner?
You know what I loved about Scottie Scheffler’s quote before The Open? The dude basically said, “Yeah, I won this tournament, it was cool, and then an hour later my sister’s like, ‘So…what’s for dinner?’” And that’s it. Life goes on. He’s the best golfer in the world, and even he gets humbled by the realities of family life. (Imagine Tiger in 2000 having to take out the trash right after winning at Pebble. Didn’t happen.)
And it hit me—running is the same way. You can spend months training for one race, and if it goes badly you feel like the universe is collapsing. But the truth is, no one at work tomorrow is going to ask why you went out in 68 instead of 71. Your sister’s still gonna ask what’s for dinner. Your friends still think of you as “the runner” whether you PR or not. That doesn’t mean it’s not worth chasing—it just means you’re not suddenly a different human being because you nailed (or blew) one Saturday morning 5K.
In fact, that’s kind of the beauty of it. Running matters because we make it matter. But when the gun goes off, it’s also just a bunch of people in short-shorts chasing a clock. Sometimes keeping that perspective is the only way to survive the sport.
I mean, it’s a fine line, right? You want to run PRs. Scottie wants to win majors. But why? That was the question he tossed out in the presser. It matters, but it’s not everything. That was his conclusion, and it should probably be ours too. You have a 4:40 mile PR—great—but that can’t be your whole identity. That was the subtext.
Now, Michael Jordan would probably roll his eyes at Scottie here. But there’s only one MJ. For the rest of us, a little balance isn’t just healthy, it’s necessary. If you’re going to train 24/7/365, you better enjoy the process. Because if your self-worth is tied only to race results, odds are you’ll end up less happy than the runner who falls a minute short of their PR but can still laugh about it over beers after. Corny, yes. True, also yes.
I used to think running would fill some giant hole in my life. Shockingly, that plan bombed. Turns out, no matter how many 400s you crank out, they don’t fix your personality flaws. What it did give me, though, was something I actually like doing, over and over again, for reasons I can’t fully explain. It’s not my life. But when I line up, I still want to torch everyone around me. And honestly, that’s more than enough for a hobby that involves shorts with zero pockets.
