I ran cross country in junior and senior high school.
I enjoyed the challenge of five kilometer/3.1 mile chases through patches of forests, hills, and fields. Being able to do that came in handy later in life, in unfriendly locales.
My dad used to give me advice before the starting gun, solicited or not. It’s a dad thing, I’ve discovered. When I do it, I elicit eye rolls from my children, who have it all figured out already.
In the Turkish accent he never lost, even after decades in America, he would turn to me and say, “Run your race, Adam.”
For me, that meant I started with a negative split— I ran the back half faster than the front half. I never understood the sprint out to the front and hang on for dear life types. A lot of my Frogman brothers take that strategy.
I prefer to slowly increase my pace until the end, particularly if hills are involved. The local league championship course had three hills we called pain, death, and agony. Hills were my jam. I was never the fastest, or most agile, but hills I could do.
It’s remarkable how a sport can provide the whetstone for humans to sharpen their virtue—in this case a dogged, indomitable spirit of perseverance. I learned how to get through a race course in a way that harmonized with my own style of running. If I ran a different way, the outcome wouldn’t be the same.
Beyond the cross country course, run your race means find the things that are uniquely yours to do. Joseph Campbell’s admonition to follow your bliss can sometimes be criticized for being glib, selfish, or simplistic. But when Campbell says bliss, he means it in the Sanskrit, which is Ananda. This is more than personal happiness. It’s a deep, transcendental joy that arises from union with the divine.
The Japanese term Ikigai is popularized in an image with intersecting Venn diagrams.
But there is no venn diagram in the original meaning of this word. It doesn’t refer to career success or externally validated things— it points at the small joys, routines, and meaningful aspects of life that bring a person fulfillment.
The concept evolved over long centuries. Psychologist Mieko Kamiya explored ikigai in her 1966 book Ikigai-ni-Tsuite, or On Ikigai, explaining it as a sense of fulfillment that helps people endure hardships, including illness or loss.
It comes from two Japanese words— iki (to live) and gai (worth or effect). Together, it means "the worth of living" or "a reason to live.”
I don’t know if it’s easy or hard for most humans to run your race, follow your bliss, or seek your ikigai.
But this is what I’m getting at with Attunement.
"If you do follow your bliss, you put yourself on a kind of track that has been there all the while waiting for you, and the life that you ought to be living is the one you are living." — Joseph Campbell
How do we posture ourselves to the world in the most harmonious, concordant way?
How do we find what resonates with us?
What is uniquely ours to do?
My Spiritual Director — a wonderful 4 foot 10 inch (147cm) Indian woman by the name of Dadi Janki who passed away aged 104 in 2020 — used to encourage everyone to ask themselves “मुझे क्या करना है?”
It translates roughly as “What is mine to do?” — not in the sense that “I must do x” but more that x is something I see needs to be done, and feel called to address it.
I ran cross country in college after my time in the service. I was given the same advice by my coach, who was my dad’s strength and speed coach in HS football. He knew what I had in me and knew it needed a singular focus. Damn, I loved those miles.
My dad told me once that I’ve always lived my life about 30-degrees left or right of center. That’s my race. And it’s never left me questioning the finish line. Great post.