Balancing Selfishness and Passion
human-writtenⓘ
Last night, I was watching an episode of Losers on Netflix, and it struck a chord with me.
Losers is a series of single-story documentaries about people who “failed” in sports, sometimes in pretty spectacular ways. This particular episode was called Lost in the Desert. It was the story of Mauro Prosperi, a former Olympic athlete who met a sandstorm and (spoiler alert) nearly died in the desert of Morocco, during the Marathon des Sables(1994).
If you care about visuals, this documentary is honestly not worth your time. Most of it you’ll be spending watching either cartoons (srsly), interviews or stock footage of deserts. And the story is not exceptional either. I mean, I pretty much told you everything already, with the exception of some bat-eating and the really lucky rescue, in true deus-ex-machina fashion (ok I won’t spoil everything).
No, the thing that triggered me was something the ex-wife, as the main narrator of the story, said early in the episode:
[Starting a family] should change life’s priorities. It doesn’t mean you can’t love sports or running anymore. Instead, it means fitting it into a puzzle that includes other pieces as well. Perhaps it’s selfishness, that’s not malicious, but it can only be called selfishness. To think that one’s passion comes before everyone else … it’s selfishness.
This notion of selfishness in pursuing personal passions got me thinking about how it applies to my own life, especially as a parent.
Life often feels like a giant puzzle: you not only have to juggle your own life, but that of your kids too. And the more kids you have, the more balls you’ve got to keep in the air. Sure, there’s a bit of ‘economical juggle-nomics’ involved - the more kids, the less each “life-ball” extra seems to weigh in the daily circus. And thankfully, it’s usually a tag-team act, not a solo performance. But still.
In that puzzle, it’s easy to convince yourself that ‘missing this training isn’t a big deal,’ or that ‘skipping this run is okay compared to the kids’ needs.’ Just to be clear, I’m not talking about taking the lazy option and watch TV instead of going out for a run! What I mean is that it’s hard to say “my training is important, and more important than [fill in kids duty here]”, so I do need to prioritise that run.
And why is that hard? Because it feels selfish.
But is it, really?
I’ve always been curious about how professional athletes navigate these choppy waters of family and personal ambition. Imagine the scene: a dedicated athlete telling their partner, “Honey, I can’t handle the grocery run today, I’ve got a tough interval training lined up.” Or perhaps, even more boldly, “Could you tackle the dishes tonight? I can’t, need to rest, coach’s orders.”
And those are professional athletes, which means they can use the handy argument that it’s their actual job. But what about the semi-pros, the weekend warriors? Their challenge is arguably even greater. So, how do they, and by extension we, strike this delicate balance?
The answer, of course, is simple: it’s crucial to have a good understanding with your partner and kids. Everyone must acknowledge that the pursuit of personal passions, like training, isn’t just a selfish whim; it’s something that enriches you, making you a better partner, parent, and person.
So, is balancing personal ambitions with family life a selfish act? Perhaps not entirely. Perhaps it’s only sometimes, maybe, a tiny bit selfish. And that’s ok.
And with that thought, it’s time to lace up my running shoes. But this time I’ll start my warmup with a simple “Thank you” to my family. Because, at the end of the day, their support is what keeps me running – both literally and metaphorically.