See Everyone Like They're Running a Race
An update to my 2015 Psychology Today article about the Bellin Run
About ten years ago, I wrote a piece for Psychology Today about how we should treat each other (read it here). The idea was rooted in a simple contrast: how we treat each other much of time vs. how we treat each other when we’re running a race.
The Backstory
I had just read a string of hostile comments mocking an article I had written on how to deal with angry people. They were dismissive, insulting, and a few even openly advocated for violence. I was in a pretty sour mood; I was angry, sad, and a little hurt. Like most people, I don’t like my work being criticized. But the fact that the article was about how to work effectively with angry people made it even worse for me. The criticism was largely rooted in the fact that I was too understanding. The critics didn’t want to respond to angry people with calmness and curiosity. They wanted to respond with more anger and violence.
A few hour later, though, I ran a popular race here in Green Bay, Wisconsin, and I noticed something that changed my entire outlook that day.
For those who are unfamiliar, the Bellin Run is a 10k race (they added a 5k a few years ago) that gets anywhere between 7000 and 20000 participants each year. It’s a very big deal here in Green Bay and one of my favorite weekends of the summer. I never miss it.
And I realized that day that one of the things I love about the Bellin Run is how everyone treats each other. There’s support and kindness along the route that you simply don’t find in many other places. In that Psychology Today piece, I wrote:
At every race I’ve been to, whether as a runner or a spectator, I’ve noticed support from strangers unlike what you find anywhere else. Strangers cheer each other on. Spectators make funny, clever, and supportive signs that say things like “First rule of the zombie apocalypse: Cardio,” and, “Hey, random stranger: I’m proud of you.” People who live along the courses set out sprinklers to cool you off as you run by. They play music and they give you high-fives if you want them. Meanwhile, volunteers spend the morning passing out water, Gatorade, orange slices, bananas, and Vaseline, cheering you on while they do it, and cleaning up your mess once you’ve run by.
It’s not just the spectators and volunteers either; it’s the other competitors. One time, I was running a race when with about a mile to go, I ran out of energy. It was hot, the race was long, and I was exhausted. I stopped to walk. I knew I’d finish, but I just didn’t think I had what it took to run anymore. Another runner who was passing me as I started walking said, “You can do it. We’re almost there.” This was a competitor - we are running the same race after all - and he used precious energy and breath at a time when I’m sure he was exhausted too to give me some encouragement at the end of a long race. He could tell I needed it, and I was thankful for his support.
I ended that 2015 article with a paragraph asking why we don’t offer people that kind of support more often. It’s a cheesy paragraph, to be sure, but the point is valid:
There is near-universal acknowledgement that running a race is hard work and that it is kind to support, praise, and encourage those who give it a try. But here’s the thing: Life is so much harder than a 10k. Why can’t we muster up that same level of encouragement and support for the people we run into on a daily basis? Why can’t we treat everyone, whether we’re online, on the highway, or at the mall, like they’re running a race?
Why Revisit This?
So why am I revisiting this more than ten years later? Because a lot has changed since 2015, and I want to unpack the original message more fully in light of our current cultural landscape. More than that, though, I needed a reminder,1 and based on what I’m seeing, a lot of other people do too.
In the decade since I wrote this, we’ve experienced considerable political and economic unrest, exciting but scary technological advances, and an international health crisis that both stole our loved ones and changed the way we work and interact with one another.
All of those things have led to a fundamental shift in how we experience and express anger. It’s not just that the norms have changed regarding what’s ok and what’s not ok to say or do to one another. It’s far bigger than that. It’s about how we see ourselves and how we see each other and it makes the race day metaphor even more important.
Anger as Identity
One of the biggest shifts over the last decade is that anger is no longer just an emotion people feel and express. Anger has become something we use to signal who we are and what we care about.
In a lot of spaces now, being angry communicates belonging. It tells other people what you stand for, what you oppose, and which side you’re on. That’s especially true in political and cultural conversations, where expressing outrage can function almost like an badge of your identity.
To be clear, there’s nothing wrong with being angry. And there’s much to be angry about right now. The anger isn’t the problem.
The problem is that once anger becomes tied to identity, it’s that much harder to let go of. If being angry is part of how you define yourself (or how your group defines itself) then calming down can feel like backing down. It can feel like a lack of loyalty to your group.
But at a race, those identities seem to melt away. They are replaced by some sort of temporary community built around this shared activity. The things that often divide us fade away for a little while and what takes their place is the fact that we’re all doing something difficult together, and that the right response is encouragement instead of judgement.
The Loss of Shared Goals
The other piece here is that in environments like the Bellin Run, there’s a clear sense that everyone is working toward something similar. We might be moving at different speeds, but we’re all just doing our best to finish the race. And the volunteers and spectators are there with the similar goal of supporting those efforts. That shared goal makes it easier to see other people as allies instead of obstacles.
In everyday life, that sense of shared purpose is often missing.
Whether it’s online, in politics, or even in day-to-day interactions, it doesn’t often feel like we’re all trying to get to the same place. In a lot of cases, it feels like we’re actively working against each other. And that’s why instead of cooperation and support, we get competition and aggression. When we don’t see each other as part of the same effort2, it’s hard to justify kindness.
See Everyone Like…
The message ten years ago was that we should be kinder to one another. That’s a thoughtful message, but way too simple. What the message should have been and what it is now is this: We need to change the way we see each other.
With that in mind, here’s an update to that last paragraph from ten years ago.
There is near-universal acknowledgement that running a race is hard work and that people deserve encouragement for showing up and trying. But here’s the thing: most people are doing that same kind of work in their everyday lives. They might not know what they’re doing and they might make stupid mistakes, but they’re not trying to get in your way or slow you down. They’re not out to make your life harder, even if they sometimes do. They’re dealing with something, trying to move forward, and most of them are doing their best. Why can’t we see everyone, whether we’re online, on the highway, or at the mall, like they’re running a race?
Dr. Ryan Martin is a psychologist, university dean, and author of three books - including Why We Get Mad and How to Deal with Angry People. Known online as the Anger Professor, he helps people understand how emotions work and what to do with them. His TED Talk, Why We Get Mad - and why it’s healthy, has been watched more than 3.5 million times. He works at the University of Wisconsin-Green Bay.
I’m sure there are people reading this who I have been unkind to. Like anyone, I lose my temper from time to time. Like anyone, I’ve gravitated toward hostility when kindness would have been the better option. To those people, I’m sorry. I’m always trying to do better.
I’m not naive, by the way. I know we’re not always part of the same effort. I know there are plenty of people who are out to harm. But it’s not all or even most.