The Artist Athlete & USM
Last summer my husband and I, along with my friend and running partner - Amanda, travelled to Madeira to participate in the Ultra Sky Run Madeira – a ‘sky running’ trail race that advertised itself with the slogan – “Plan your Pain”.
Our friends laughed - why would anyone include pain in their summer vacation plans? I think on some level we each knew that the promised views had the potential to shift our perspective and spirit. We knew that the memories our bodies would retain from the physical and mental challenge could be profound, and that the pain would also come with long-lasting injections of dopamine and serotonin regulators.
I identify as an artist, but also as a runner. Despite the conventional tendency to locate ‘artists’ and ‘jocks’ on opposing ends of a spectrum, I often think about the connections between these two facets of my identity. For me, existing as an artist demands a similar mindset to that of an athlete, and I suspect that training in one domain translates to gains in the other. I have been running, not every day – but often several days a week, for over 35 years now. I don’t compete a lot anymore, but I still enjoy training for a few annual events because they provide me a framework around which to structure my need to run. Because I do need to move - much like I do need to create.
I run to slow down and enable focus; to engage my body and my surroundings. I run to achieve a mental flow state – where the conscious and subconscious mingle, holding space for challenges, ideas and solutions.
Running provides a place to go that’s all mine - a mental studio of sorts, to contemplate my emotions, plans, and projects. In this way, it’s become part of my operating model, a tool that I use to support myself and ability to ‘show up’ elsewhere, whether at work, in relationships, or my artistic practice.
The creative process requires space for tangential, curious and abstract thinking. For me, running provides the time, space and serotonin to support these processes - to move through, discover and probe ideas.
When the writer Haruki Murikami claims that “most of what I know about writing I've learned through running every day”, I think he is referring to the discipline required to put in sometimes difficult or tedious work without external motivators. Both require a belief in and dedication to oneself; to efforts that might never be seen, let alone recognized or celebrated.
Athletes and creatives alike must develop a trust in their intuition, and a dedication their processes. Not all studio days and long runs are exciting, but they are all important – contributing gains that might be hard to discern in the moment, but cumulatively contribute to the masterpiece or physical achievement.
On a scientific level, there must be something to this; perhaps similar chemicals firing in the brain during a good run and a productive studio day. I could compare the sense of satisfaction and self-actualization you get from producing a unique piece work, to that of completing a hard workout or a demanding race.
And maybe it’s those same above-mentioned brain chemicals, but I believe that both painting and running can feel like very spiritual experiences as well. The perspective and satisfaction gained by moving through the process can feel like affirmations from a larger cosmic order. Both endeavors offer invitations to confront perceived limits, requiring curiosity and courage. Both lend themselves to revelation, understanding and ultimately personal growth.
How can I recreate a particular emotion or perspective on canvas? How will I meet the challenge of a half-marathon ‘sky run’? And what will I learn about myself and the world around me in the process?
The Ultra Sky Run Madeira did not disappoint. The race was well-organized and demarcated to guide dispersed, often solo runners through a challenging route that included terraced agricultural plots, laurel forests, and mountain lookouts - all part of the Santana Biosphere Reserve. The spectacular views, vibrant colours and deep satisfaction of finishing were indeed worth the pain. By the time we completed our respective races, something in each of us had shifted - our capabilities had been confirmed, possibilities expanded, and we each had a renewed excitement for what would come next. doesn’t always arrive with a bold entrance. Sometimes, it builds quietly, step by step, as we show up for ourselves day after day. It grows when we choose to try, even when we’re unsure of the outcome. Every time you take action despite self-doubt, you reinforce the belief that you’re capable. Confidence isn’t about having all the answers — it’s about trusting that you can figure it out along the way.
