What running has taught me about business leadership

By Kristin Kenney, Director

Haruki Murakami is one of my favorite authors. One of my favorite books of his is not fiction—it's his memoir about running, titled What I Talk About When I Talk About Running.

Murakami started running in 1982 and has run nearly every day since then. He’s also completed 23 marathons (as of the book’s publication in 2008). He published his first novel in 1979 and continues to write today. In many ways, there is no author without the runner, and no runner without the author.

Both practices—running and writing—require patience, extreme discipline, the ability to self-start (and self-motivate), and tenacity. When I first read What I Talk About When I Talk About Running, I certainly saw parallels between Murakami’s journey as a runner and a writer and my own—though, to be clear, I am far, far less accomplished than he is on both fronts. But I also see parallels between running and business leadership. Both can be solitary journeys. Both involve years of training and sacrifice for fleeting moments of success. And the finish lines in running and business are milestones, not end points—they are simply the gates you pass through before beginning your next block of training or work.

I started running seriously during my senior year in college. Every morning, I’d wake up and complete a hilly 4-mile route through downtown San Luis Obispo, then go to class. Around this time, I began my first job as media coordinator for my university’s entrepreneurship center. Since then, running has become a core part of my identity. I am not a great runner. I am not an outstanding business leader. But I have found personal success in both areas of my life, and the connection between the two is not lost on me.

On self-motivation

“Most ordinary runners are motivated by an individual goal, more than anything: namely, a time they want to beat.” 

Murakami continues, “For me, running is both exercise and a metaphor. Running day after day, piling up the races, bit by bit I raise the bar, and by clearing each level I elevate myself.”

Runners may have trainers and business leaders may have mentors. But no trainer is waking you up at 5am and turning your legs over for you on icy mornings. No mentor is making your coffee and opening your laptop for another day of work.

There are days I don’t want to run. There are days I don’t want to work. In my job, I am motivated by the fact that my team depends on me to show up and produce great work. But in running, I have no one to answer to but myself. It would be easy to skip a run. But what would I rather sacrifice: my comfort, or my ability to continuously improve?

Running requires extreme self-motivation. When it is dark and temperatures are in the mid-20s in NYC, I still have to run. (As of writing, I have a 391 day streak going. A bit of snow isn’t going to break that.) I’ve come to learn that those are actually the runs that teach me the most: when it is dark, cold, and empty out.

You rarely succeed by going where everyone else is going; success comes from taking the more challenging path while others opt for comfort.

In business, leaders often face challenging decisions. Financial questions, ethical quandaries, personnel choices—the list is long. The easy decision is rarely the best one: When Patagonia founder Yvon Chouinard realized that his signature iron pitons were ruining the very rock faces that he and his fellow “dirtbag” climbers loved so much, he simply stopped making them—instead developing less-destructive aluminum chocks. As it turned out, the chocks were a better product, and by making the hard decision, Patagonia had taken a crucial first step toward becoming the radically honest, sustainable, and successful company it is today. 

Leaders have to be willing to push themself (and their teams) to do what is best and what is right, not what is easy and comfortable. So when something challenging arises in my job, I think: Would I stay home, or would I go out and run?

On adaptability

Business leaders have to wear a lot of hats (or shoes, or shirts, or however you prefer to phrase it). You must have a solid grasp of finances. You need to be able to motivate and guide your team. You have to be a clear, concise communicator. You must be able to shape a vision and then develop the strategy to achieve it.

In running, you build two types of muscles: slow-twitch endurance muscle and fast-twitch sprinting muscle. Any capable runner will develop both, even if they focus on distance or speed. A marathoner, for example, does not run long distances on every training run. (This would destroy their joints and muscles.) And while many short-distance runners can keep runs brief in terms of distance, they are not always running fast. You must strike a balance between speed (fast and slow) and distance (short and long) in order to be the most effective and efficient runner. This kind of adaptability can teach you a lot. As Murakami says, “Sometimes taking time is actually a shortcut.”

Since moving to New York City, I've completed 55 races. That includes four marathons and a sub-6 minute mile (and many distances in between). Both the marathon and the mile have taught me wildly different things. If you aren’t a runner, you might expect me to say the marathon was the most difficult race. Yes, the marathons have been challenging, but the toughest race I’ve ever participated in was the New Balance Mile.

A marathon requires you to maintain a steady pace and push through discomfort (cramps, dehydration, and so on) for a handful of hours. The mile begs you to push yourself past 100% effort for 4, 5, 6, or 7 minutes straight. The mile is pure, painful hell. The mile has every muscle screaming, lungs bursting, stomach in knots. The marathon gives you a lot of time to think and strategize; the mile is an all-out fight between body and brain, with your body screaming at you to stop while your mind taunts you to continue.

The mile is the equivalent of having a difficult conversation with an employee, or telling your board of directors that you missed financial targets last quarter. The marathon is anticipating a market decline and strategizing to come out ahead. In business, you have to be able to do both. When you’re adaptable in business, you can handle any situation that comes your way. It may not always be graceful (neither race was for me), but you can handle it and emerge stronger.

On tenacity

Five months before my first marathon, I injured my IT band. This is the long muscle running from the hip to the knee along the outside of your thigh. It’s critical to running, and prone to overuse injuries. Instead of deferring the race, I immediately switched my training from running to cycling in order to continue building my cardiovascular base while giving my IT band a break. It did not heal in time for the marathon, and as I stood at the starting line on November 5, 2017, I had sharp pains running along my left thigh. As Murakami said of his own first New York City Marathon: “At certain points in our lives, when we really need clear-cut solutions, the person who knocks on our door is, more likely than not, a messenger bearing bad news.”

Not only was I facing an irritating injury, but the change in my training meant I stood at the start line having never run more than 16 miles in my life. I decided that even if I couldn’t run the entire race, I could walk it. What was a marathon, anyway? In my mind, it was just putting one foot in front of the other for 26.2 miles. And I knew I could do that.

As it turned out, I ran the entire race and finished in four hours and one minute. I was overjoyed that I had finished, and that I had run the whole way (through tremendous pain). But I was equally heartbroken. I was one minute and eleven seconds over the four hour mark. Next time, I vowed do better. (Nothing is quite as motivating as personal failure.)

There have been several times in my career that an “annoying” issue or barrier has popped up, and I’ve been tempted to quit. This is where I see a lot of young professionals make mistakes: instead of being tenacious and pushing through, they give up or otherwise avoid the difficult thing. The biggest loss from this decision is the loss of a learning opportunity. I have personally always learned the most from situations where I had to tackle something uncomfortable, difficult, or vague. Generally, I emerge with new skills, capabilities, or confidence.

When I next crossed the finish line of the New York City Marathon, it was in three hours and 42 minutes—nearly 20 minutes faster. Aside from being injury-free, I had not drastically changed my training or approach. I simply went into the race having learned what the course was like, how to fuel, how to navigate pain, and that I could finish. So I did. And as Murakami said, I discovered that “pain is inevitable. Suffering is optional.”

On showing up

One of my friends consistently finishes marathons in the low 2-hour range. Another friend has founded and sold her company. I look to them as incredibly successful individuals who got there through hard work and talent.

There’s no denying the role that talent plays in success for many individuals. Some runners are just faster than others. Some founders are more inventive than others. Murakami acknowledges that successful novelists are talented novelists. “The problem with talent, though, is that in most cases the person involved can’t control its amount or quality. Talent has a mind of its own, and wells up when it wants to, and once it dries up, that’s it.” When talent dries up, what do you rely on? 

You can achieve a lot simply by showing up.

For two years now, I have placed 1st overall in a series of cross country races. I have never finished first in any singular race, though I’ve been close: 2nd, 3rd, and 4th on many occasions. Season champions are calculated by taking the lowest cumulative placings of runners who complete all the races in a season. So while I’ve performed well in all of these races, I have not ever been the fastest woman on the course. But I have been the one that consistently shows up and finishes races.

Similarly, there have been times over my career that I’ve been overwhelmed and overworked. During those periods, I’ve been presented with opportunities to work with a new colleague or take on a new project. I take those opportunities. Even If I don’t jump in 100% right away due to workload, I signal my interest and willingness to make it work—and that goes a very long way in this world.

On the flip side, a lot of talent is wasted by people who don’t show up. I’ve seen fantastic runners and incredibly smart students or colleagues waste their potential because they aren’t open to putting the work in.

A lot can be gained simply by being present at the start line or in the board room.

On motivation

When you run, you become an expert in motivating yourself. And if you can motivate yourself to do something, you can motivate almost anyone.

Being a business leader requires at least a basic grasp of psychology. As a leader, you have to motivate your teams, persuade partners or clients to take your advice, and guide people toward your desired outcomes. If you understand a bit about classical and operant conditioning, habit formation, and intrinsic/extrinsic factors, you have a solid foundation. But it’s not until you’re able to effectively motivate yourself that you understand what it takes to motivate others to follow your lead.

Understanding motivation also requires understanding your limits. Nowhere in this entire article am I suggesting someone push themselves to the point of exhaustion or burnout for the sake of having done a thing. I, and many of my peers, have shown up to start lines with nagging injuries and worked into the early hours of the morning, but these are not everyday occurrences. I know when it is appropriate and beneficial to create a boundary in my work, just as I know when to take a short, easy run. If we do not take care of ourselves—mentally, physically—we will never be able to push through those occasional extreme circumstances.

Similarly, you have to understand how to motivate people who might be at—or beyond—their limits. I encounter this a lot in my role, and rather than becoming discouraged or giving up, I switch into problem solving mode. If an employee is stretched to the point of frustration and tears, it’s not time to tell them to push through, nor the time to tell them to take a day off. The work is still there, waiting to be done. To me, it’s like taking a water or walk break in a marathon: We pause, inventory what needs to be done, and explore all our available resources. Perhaps another colleague can temporarily take over another workstream, or it’s time to bring on an intern.

Murakami said, “If something’s worth doing, it’s worth giving it your best—or in some cases, beyond your best.” I would add: If you can’t give your best for any reason, it’s worth changing a variable. But giving up is not an option.

On challenging yourself

You might be wondering: Isn’t running every day challenging enough? Is a marathon or ultramarathon not challenging? Is leading a business every day not challenging?

Yes, but: These are known entities.

I may not be the best runner, but I know how to run. I generally understand the inputs and sacrifice needed to run a 100-yard sprint or an ultramarathon, just as I generally understand the inputs it would take to serve in various roles within my organization.

Like Murakami, I eventually became curious about triathlons. Not just the novelty of swimming or the thrill of biking, but the ability of triathletes to put all three sports together. I sought a new way to challenge myself—so I bought a road bike, signed up for swimming lessons, and began training for the 2022 New York City Triathlon.

I’d grown up both swimming and riding bikes, but had never done either competitively. Now, I was signing up to swim in the Hudson River and bike the hilly Henry Hudson Parkway before running through Central Park. Similarly, when I took on a part-time role as a nonprofit director, I had no idea what I was getting into. The pace, team structure, and dynamics were so vastly different from what I was used to in my current job—and now I had the added challenge of balancing the two. On their own, the two jobs would be doable, just as a swimming or biking or running event on its own would be manageable.

I’ve never felt real fear going into a run. The idea of dipping into the Hudson River for my first ever competitive swimming event terrified me. And as it turned out, a sudden rainstorm resulted in unsafe water quality levels and a cancelled swim (replaced with another run portion)—but I felt that the terror leading up to the event must have been worse than the event itself.

Another unexpected factor: While a 10k run was easy for me, a 10k run after a hilly, fast 25-mile bike ride was brutal. My legs were bricks. But, step after step, I made my way through the park and to the finish line.

There have been a lot of unknowns involved in working for two very different organizations with different missions, structures, and team dynamics. But like cross-training, I feel stronger for it. I am continuously challenged to bring my best self to each role and each project; to be the best team member; and to cross-pollinate with what I’ve learned from the other organization.

On running and leadership

I don’t actually like labeling myself as a runner or a leader. I am a person who runs, and I am a person who takes on leadership functions. At the end of the day, I am just a person doing my best, and a person who has been deeply humbled by the act of running and the act of leading. What strikes me the most about what I’ve been able to accomplish both in my running and my career is that I am deeply normal. I have simply chosen to push myself toward continuous improvement in certain areas. 

For you, those areas might be the arts, another sport, music, or healthcare. Whatever it may be, I urge you to dedicate yourself to something that gives you opportunities to continuously improve. You will learn a lot about yourself. And that is one of the most powerful things we can do as human beings.

Or, put another way: “The point is whether or not I improved over yesterday. In long-distance running the only opponent you have to beat is yourself, the way you used to be.”