Distance Gives Perspective

Throughout my college years in the history department at Dordt College (now Dordt University), my professors would always remind us students as we analyzed, critiqued, and criticized historical events, politics, and people, “Hindsight is 20/20.” It was so true. We as historians-in-training could see the overarching story through various primary sources, some of which were barely known or totally unknown to particular persons during a time period. Although, it’s not just us overly critical, truth-seeking historians who do this. It’s all of us. We all look back on events, circumstances, conversations, and actions and think, “I should have done that. I can’t believe I said that. Why did that happen? How could I have avoided that?” Sometimes, though, we are stuck in the midst of something and wonder, “How can this remotely turn out good later on? Is it over yet? Why is this happening? What did I do wrong? Did I say something wrong?”

Just like the full impact of historical events will not be known until years later, we can’t remotely know how or why things happen the way they do. We need distance. Distance gives us perspective. 

I was reminded of this after competing in Chuckanut 50K. Not going to lie, this race certainly did not turn out the way I wanted it to. I finished 30 minutes behind the lead woman and as number 12 in the women’s competition. I crossed the line frustrated and disappointed. Dang it! That was not how that race was supposed to go! I called my coach almost immediately. “I’m sorry, Coach,” I said. “I messed up.” My coach refused to let me apologize and told me that finishing was good enough. As we talked, he informed me of who I had been up against--some of the top runners in the U.S., reminded me of how inconducive the weather had been (snow on top of the ridge and reaching into the low 30s with dumping rain), and that my legs shutting down had likely been a result of my inability to fuel regularly due to the gnarly trail I was navigating at crazy speeds and my watch dying half way through (due to the extreme cold), which had set reminders when I needed to eat and drink. A few days later my coach texted me that 5 of the top women had dropped at the last aid station due to hypothermia. I had known that I was close to being hypothermic in the race but figured I had no choice but to get myself out and done. These fantastic, competitive women made a different choice, and probably a wise one, than I had. The distance of the race had given them perspective to drop when their bodies needed to, and a few days of "distance" had provided me perspective on all that I had overcome in that race.

I love ultramarathoning for this very thing—to provide perspective. Perspective on what my body is capable of. Perspective on what I can endure mentally. Perspective on how long is long. Perspective on life. I can't tell you how many times I have been in the worst possible place mentally and running has given me the distance I needed to process and gain perspective in a situation. With each mile I gain a little more distance from a situation and a little more perspective.  

This concept of distance giving perspective was extremely important when I was dating my husband. After dating for a few months, we broke up. There was a slew of factors, but the most dominant was the ever-watching observers and subsequent pressure from attending a small church, where marriage is highly emphasized, and teaching at a small school, where we were the only single teachers. Great combination right there. My dating relationship became less and less of my own but being a people pleaser and being in my first relationship, I "performed". It wasn't until we chose to breakup, and I had had some time did I realize that I loved him and wanted the relationship for myself and not for others. (A 100M race might have been involved in that process.) I needed distance to provide perspective. After 6 weeks apart, we decided to get back together, and while we went very slow and cautious at first, we chose this time to do it our way and for keeps.

I know waiting and gaining distance from a situation is not easy. Neither is running 100 miles. During the midst of my break-up, I can't say I liked it. In fact, I hated it. (There were a lot of tears, a lot of prayers, and a lot of angry training runs.) I wanted my friend back, and then I realized that I wanted more than just a friend. Awkward. However, I had to wait. I had to run the distance. I had to gain perspective. And my husband and I still agree to this day that breaking up was one of the best things we did. 

This is not to say that many situations will turn out as happy as my husband's and mine did. I know from personal experience that they won't. Praying over some friends' unborn baby and then losing that baby months later. Praying for an adoption to go through and questioning when it doesn't for years. Praying for a friend's marriage to stay intact and then mourning when it still ends. Praying for the health of a loved one and grieving when it is her time to go home. We all want to ask why. What the purpose is in all of it. But are we willing to wait and find out?

We need distance. We need perspective. Distance gives perspective.