The power of visualization
Nearly two years ago, on November 10, 2023, I put on a pair of running shoes and went out for a 1.7 mile run around the Reservoir in Central Park. It had been eight years since the last time I ran – when I was about 80 pounds heavier with a body that could not take endure the pounding on my joints. With a new body, I was ready to give it a try again. I had no idea how it would go or if my body would be able to handle it. It couldn’t before, but so much had changed, and I wanted to see if running was another one of those changes. The run took about 20 minutes, which was more than two minutes a mile faster than my pace when I last ran. I wasn’t trying to run faster – I just did. Running was different this time. It was easier. It felt right. Maybe, just maybe, I’d be able to run the NY Marathon someday after all. Of course, it’s a long road from 1.7 to 26.2. But for the first time in years, I could at least visualize the process.
For me, visualization has become such a key tool in reaching the achievements I’ve accomplished in this journey that I am genuinely surprised it’s taken me this long to write about it. It’s key in both fitness and life.
The power of visualization is backed by science. As someone who reads medical literature regularly as part of my day job, I will admit that the published literature on the effects of visualization is dense. But it boils down to this:
- If you repeatedly imagine an event in the future, it increases your belief that it is likely to happen.
- If you imagine rehearsing an action, it makes it more likely you will do it.
It sounds so simple. If you believe it, you can make it come true. Yet visualization has so many more layers than simply wishing something into existence. It is a path that, with preparation and dedication, can evolve from a blurry vision to a moment of pristine clarity that becomes an out of body experience. Look no further than my marathon journey to see how this plays out . . .
I wished I could run the marathon 10 years ago. That was my reason for taking up running back then. When I saw others cross the finish line, I imagined doing it myself. But I was so far away from it that the image was foggy at the time. There was so much to do between where I was and where I needed to be that the mental picture of becoming a finisher in the race was not clear. But I learned from that blurry image. I learned that there were smaller steps to visualize first – in fact, for me, those steps meant giving up running first and working on achieving the body that would be able to complete the run. While I couldn’t visualize the ultimate accomplishment with clarity, I could picture other results ahead in a life dedicated to fitness. I saw myself getting stronger. I saw my cardio improving. Even as I struggled through some of the most basic workouts, the rapid progress I made sharpened my vision for the future.
Still, that vision rarely, if ever, focused on finishing the NY Marathon. The failure I experienced in trying to run lingered. It suppressed my belief that 26.2 would happen – even as I so badly wished it would. Throughout my journey, I was often asked if I was running the marathon on a given year. I had made no secret of this ambition, but when asked, I simply said I wasn’t ready. I found it interesting that others could see this outcome for me when I could not yet picture it. Sure, I hoped to do it, but wishing it didn’t help me see it any more clearly.
Even after that first day back to running just two years ago, all I could see in my future was that running might be part of it. I gradually made it part of my routine and ramped up slowly. As I ran two or three miles at a time, my mind questioned whether I’d be ok from it. It was stuck in the past where that last painful run eight years ago put an abrupt end to my marathon vision. But the contrast between that experience and these short runs I was now finishing with ease gradually made that moment fade in my psyche. The future became brighter, and even if I couldn’t quite put myself into the moment of finishing the race, I could now visualize a path towards training.
With each new distance – first, three miles; then four; and then five – my comfort with running grew. Knowing I’d make it pain-free through those distances allowed my mind to imagine even longer runs. Not fearlessly, but with an entirely different kind of trepidation – one that looked ahead. I went from dreading the possibility of the pain I felt in the past to fearing what else I might fail at in the future. I started to imagine reaching 26.2, but I could only see it about as clearly as one can spot a pedestrian on the street from the top of the Empire State Building.
Then last August came my first big test – one that would determine my path ahead. I ran my first 12-mile race. In fact, it would be my first run ever of longer than 9.3 miles (15K). It was the 15K run that made me quit in 2015. But this run put all that to rest. I started the run carefully, as I went out at a slow and comfortable pace. I did the first six-mile loop of Central Park with ease and knew I was well on my way. After another two miles and still feeling like I could run forever, I knew I could push it faster than I had run all day for the last four. My confidence rose with each step. I was at one with this race. As I made the final turn to the finish line, realizing not just that I could run 12 miles, but also that I had so much more left in the tank, I was overcome with emotion. I crossed the finish line full of tears that washed away all the failures of the past and cleared my vision for the future. I could see it now. For the first time in my life, I didn’t just wish I could run the NY Marathon, I believed it would happen. I visualized what the finish line would be like after 26.2, and the tears flowed even harder.
Since that moment last August, every run has been a run towards completing 26.2. Stripping the insecurities of the past allowed me to run in a space where my mind leaves my present body and puts me right in the middle of the five-borough course that thousands run every first Sunday of November. I know that course well. I’ve studied it and read tips for running each segment of it. Over the years, I’ve spent marathon Sunday visiting various sections of the it from Fourth Avenue in Brooklyn to the finish line in Central Park. I’ve gone to the NY Marathon Expo on race weekend but, of course, refused to buy any swag for a race I was not running. I took it in to be inspired for the day that I would be at the Expo to pick up my marathon bib and buy merch for my race. And I’ve even crossed the finish line twice before on race weekend, running the Abbott Dash to the Finish 5K race the day before the marathon.
Running the Abbott Dash to the Finish 5K Race on October 31, 2015 (left) and November 2, 2024 (right).
Today when I run, the vision is so much clearer. When I say now that I visualize it on my runs, I really mean it to the extreme. I go to a space in my head where my mind leaves my body for that place. It could be for a few seconds, or it could last for miles. At some point, maybe when the song changes on my playlist or when something grabs my attention on the run, I’ll snap back into the moment realizing where I am in my current run. But through those runs, I’ve seen myself everywhere I will be on marathon Sunday. I’ve had visions of taking it all in as I soak in the crowds enjoying every moment, and I’ve also gone to places where I am pushing through pain with each step. Each week before my long run, I prepare the same dinner and the same breakfast imagining myself going through the process on race weekend. I’ve pictured the ferry ride to Staten Island – including making sure to use the bathroom on it – and the hours-long wait among the crowds before my wave begins. I’ve started long runs uphill imagining myself taking it slowly up the first mile of the Verrazzano Bridge as the other ambitious runners pass me – since the tendency for most is to start too fast. And most importantly, I have put myself right into the moment of crossing the finish line. Most often, that’s when I need to snap out of it. I can’t do it without breaking into tears. What matters is that I have seen it. In my mind, I’ve already run this race. In reality, I have not yet done so. And I know nothing is guaranteed.
Anyone who knows me well will tell you that I often obsess over my passions. I think that comes through, not just in this post, but in many of the stories I’ve shared about my journey. But what one might see as obsession, I see as manifestation. Could I run the marathon without this level of preparation and visualization? Perhaps. But there’s little doubt I’m more likely to because I’ve already seen it – over and over again. And as mentioned above, science says so too!
Aaron
Total miles run per week of training:
Week before training began: 15.2 miles
Week 1: 23 miles
Week 2: 20.7 miles
Week 3: 23.2 miles
Week 4: 20.6 miles
Week 5: 25.75 miles
Week 6: 24.2 miles
Week 7: 27.8 miles
Week 8: 22.4 miles
Week 9: 29.2 miles
Week 10: 24.0 miles
Week 11: 9.95 miles
Week 12: 0 miles
Week 13: 0 miles
Week 14: 26.55 miles
Week 15: 30.0 miles
Week 16: 25.7 miles
See the links below for the other posts in my marathon training series:
Inside my “official” marathon training – 20 weeks to race day!
Know when to say when – a little about marathon training and a bit more about life