Out of six who competed in cross country/track at Columbia through graduation – out of the same class of eleven freshman plus one transfer, two are training at an elite level. The others might jump in a road race or train when an opportunity presents itself, but each of us is juggling assorted priorities and assumed realities. Busy schedules and multiple responsibilities do not evade the two who train to compete at a high level of competition. Rather, it seems that those who are successful in such endeavors figure out how to finagle life’s work-play-rest rhythms. To me, that is remarkable.

Good post-collegiate runners take the cake, and eat it too, because they (a) live a lifestyle conducive to performing at a elite level and/or (b) maintain a commonsensical perspective on expectations in relation to their daily lives. (A) and (b) are easier said than done, as is the arduous task of training whether with a team or training partner. To me, it’s no wonder 98 percent of female runners quit competing post-collegiately, or whatever majority some statistic I heard quoted some time ago (can someone find that study, please?! Or tell me it’s a guesstimation).

I wonder if it seems to be about this time in other American distance runner’s lives when the unquestionable loneliness of the sport can set in. Depending on where you are and what you’re doing, you’ll probably wind up going about it alone. A uniform or team to compete for renders getting out the door a task less questionable, but with or without those, you might wonder to what extent your identity ought to meld with running. No one’s expecting you to accomplish any PR for any race like they might have before, especially if you were never at the top of collegiate standings.

Within the mountainous unstructured territory after graduation, I led myself into the familiar pattern of training. I deviated somewhat from the path of previously patterened conditioning with my newfound freedom. But with a “real job” and/or “volunteer projects” and/or “social life” and/or what I’m “supposed to do,” the activity required for whatever responsibilities I assumed butted heads with the energy expenditure required for running, especially running competitively.

Hard training requires more than energy; it requires considerable investments of emotion as well as time. When training competitively, stress fractures are dehabilitating, self-imposed pressure crippling, intervals deadening, etc. But is there a way to reach for incredible marks or high dreams, without running such risks? I don’t think we want women’s distance running to be less arduous, but where our bodies draw the line in the sand of grainy, infinite possibilities is muddled by what society thinks we ought to do.

This might suggest why so many post-collegiate running ladies fall into the catchall of recreational running, if they continue at all. There, running is conventional, safe and easily fit into a busy capitalistic lifestyle. There, women’s running is an easily mass-marketed pastime, offering the widespread and generally applicable benefits of running. [Note: a diatribe on skorts, so emblematic of recreational jogging culture, shall appear if deemed appropriate.]

Deciding to run after college, whether recreationally or competitively (like Kate O'Neil over there), presents a conundrum, which requires weighing commitment and benefit. Attempting to quantify such things seems somewhat ridiculous, at least until you realize you have some responsibility to consider profit. Hopefully, then, your gut and/or your heart renders rational thought moot. Why should you ask permission to do what you want to do, graduated lady? The leaps you take require letting go of preconceived notions - check-the-box and picket-fence-the-yard - to whatever degree you grasp at them. I hope more of us have the courage to jump into whatever freefall of running we may muster. …