A few weeks ago, my husband and I took our daughters hiking and camping in the Shenandoah Mountains, in Virginia. Given their tiny legs, the girls mostly rode in our hiking backpacks, where they sang songs, pointed at trees, and periodically removed my ponytail holder. But sometimes, they hiked alongside us, meandering and picking up rocks.
This was an odd experience for me. These were some of the same mountain trails where I have raced several ultramarathons, running aggressively and sometimes at night, by headlamp. This was a different way to experience these trails — at a slower pace, for leisure instead of performance. But the biggest difference in how I experienced these trails with my family, versus alone, was how I perceived risks.
Sabrina Little and her family out on a hike. All photos courtesy of Sabrina Little.
Previously, when I raced the rocky, technical descents after nightfall, I would say a quick prayer: “Dear God, please let me finish this race with all of my teeth, in the same order, still in my mouth.” I did not slow down or dwell on the possibility of things going awry. But with my children, I slowed down. I watched out for snakes and bears. And when given the choice between two ways to traverse a path, I chose the less perilous instead of the faster route.
The Concept
Courage is an excellence with respect to fear (1). It involves rising to suitable risks and overcoming obstacles for the sake of some good (2). According to Aquinas, its principle act is endurance (an act we love as runners) — “to stand immovable in the midst of dangers (3) .” And courage is often described in connection to moral beauty. A beautiful life is one in which people rise to worthy challenges, often for the sake of others (4).
Beyond this, there is little consensus about the nature and features of courage (5). In large part, this is because courage depends on critical assumptions about which risks are worth taking and what a good life is.
Courage in Running
Courage is an important virtue for runners. We often find ourselves in vulnerable places, enduring risks. To grow excellent in this respect, there are a few things to keep in mind.
Courage is not recklessness.
As a teenager, I fell in love with distance running in my rural Appalachian hometown. My mom had two rules for me: I was not allowed to run during thunderstorms, and if I entered the trails, I had to bring a whistle to periodically alert the bears of my presence so I would not startle them.
This probably goes without saying to a group of trail runners, but there are risks involved in spending time in the mountains. To be excellent with respect to courage is not to eliminate fear, but to experience fitting fear in the face of these risks. Recklessness is not the same thing as courage.
What this means is that it is important to familiarize ourselves with dangers and to prepare for them as best as we can. It means being honest about our vulnerability as runners in the mountains, and it means knowing when we should retreat.
The perceived risks of mountains can be different depending on the situation.
Courage is not cowardice either.
When I coached cross country, I noticed two tendencies. Some of my athletes were rash, taking outsized risks in races and undoing themselves in the process. Others tended toward cowardice. Their racing instincts were dictated by fear, and they withdrew from even the possibility of discomfort.
To grow excellent in courage for the first group meant pulling back and assessing risks. For the second group, it meant pressing further, or staying in place through unease.
The lesson here is that it is important to discern in which direction you tend to err, and then correct yourself in the direction of courage.
Consider a good life.
When we finish races, treks, or mountain projects, it is natural to wonder what else we can do. Often, we choose the next challenge, with an increased level of difficulty — the taller peak, the faster time, the more daring project — just because it is there.
This is part of a human desire to probe our limits, to see how much further we can go. But this limit-chasing is sometimes like riding an achievement escalator to nowhere. We can strive insatiably for the next difficult feat, with escalating risks, without having a vision of where we are going or what it’s all for.
A beautiful life is one in which people rise to worthy challenges.
Earlier, I said that the nature of courage depends on critical assumptions about which risks are worth taking and what a good life is. I can’t answer this question for my readers — what a good life is — but I strongly recommend that readers be able to give an account.
For example, there are some risks that may not be worth taking in the sport if you value long-term health. The longest, riskiest, most technical, highest, most arduous trek is not always the one we ought to do.
Final Thoughts
Courage is an excellence with respect to fear and risk-taking. It is an important virtue in trail running and ultrarunning because training and racing often involve responsibly navigating risks.
As for my children, I will continue to take them hiking, among the risks, rocks, obstacles, and other infelicities that come from being outdoors. I hope they grow to love the trails as much as I do. But truthfully, revisiting the mountains I have raced on for years has made me awake to dangers I never noticed before.
Call for Comments
- Do you find yourself perceiving risk differently in various circumstances?
- Are you someone who needs to pull back and assess risk or press further than you normally want to?
References/Notes
- Aristotle, Nicomachean Ethics 1115a7
- Daniel McInerny. 2014. Fortitude and the Conflict in Frameworks, in Virtue and Their Vices, Edited by K. Timpe & C.A. Boyd, pp. 75-92. New York: Oxford University Press, 75.
- Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologiae II.2.123.6
- Aristotle, Nicomachean Ethics 1115a28-b6. Aristotle defines courage narrowly, in terms of dying in battle. He says this act is kalon—“fine” or “noble.” Strictly speaking, self-effacing actions may not be for our good. Regardless, they may be what we ought to do, and they may be beautiful.
- See Curzer, H.J. 1996. Aristotle’s Account of the Virtue of Courage in Nicomachean Ethics III.6-9. The Society for Ancient Greek Philosophy Newsletter 183: 1-15. Web <https://orb.binghamton.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=1182&context=sagp> See also Daniel McInerny. 2014. Fortitude and the Conflict in Frameworks, in Virtue and Their Vices, Edited by K. Timpe & C.A. Boyd, pp. 75-92. New York: Oxford University Press.
