My competitive drive is arguably a good thing. It keeps me working hard and eager to be the best. I have always been competitive, but perhaps that is the wrong word. What I have really always been is comparative. Allow me to explain: In the 5^th grade, when we received letter grades for the first time, I evolved into that girl who was eager to hear everyone’s grades. Not because I cared all that much about how my friends were doing in the class, but rather because I wanted to compare my grades to theirs.

An "A" was never appreciated if a lot of my friends got "A"’s as well, or an honorable "B+" was detested when I knew of people who did better. Looking back on those days now, I would like to shake my head in pity for that poor girl who based her intelligence, or even self-worth, on others, but I can’t say I’ve fully changed. I still am not entirely content if I do well on a test or assignment that everyone else did well on and even in running I don’t find victory in my personal records – I find victory when I win. I have always lived my life trying to “keep up with the Joneses.”

It occurred to me in high school, when I started running Ultra Marathons, why I love it so much. Of course, a large part of it is my love of running and challenging myself to do things I previously thought impossible, but honestly, I think it is really the fact that it’s a much smaller community, and I can justify not comparing myself to all of the other (and usually older) competitors (which is good because I’m usually toward the back end of the finishing crowd anyway).

In my Ultra races, my personal records matter because after nimbly justifying my being in a class of my own age wise, there is only one person left to compare myself to. This is far different from finishing the mile in track, when I am directly competing against people just like me.

In Ultra running, when the distance ranges from 30 miles to 100 miles, the day is simply too long to try to stay at the front. That is when the idea of keeping up with those proverbial Joneses hits the fan – it is just too hard to. The Joneses are fast. As I do admittedly live my life in this comparative paradigm where I am never fully content with my own successes, Ultra running gives me reason to be proud of myself – reason to believe that the completion of each race is truly a victory.

Going to college is a naturally competitive endeavor – I am constantly surrounded by intellect at its purest form, and each student wants to do well because we each have more or less the same end goal in mind. Everyone is driven to be the best as we print off the 10th version of a final paper for another round of edits or we make ourselves jittery with caffeine late at night, cramming for a test the next day.

I cannot help but feel envious when my econ grade is not as high as that of the person next to me. But lately I have been trying to break free of this comparative mentality. I have to believe that no one can be good at everything, and for every grade that comes up short I compensate elsewhere. Constantly basing my happiness and self-worth on the people around me is exhausting and never leaves me truly happy about myself.

Ultra running has taught me to let go of the pressure to be as good as everyone else, because really, who has the time to worry about that? Ultra running has allowed me to let the Joneses run up ahead for a while – maybe I will catch up with them; maybe I won’t. For me, self-confidence is a practice, not a genetic predisposition, and while it might take some time, this practice is starting to bleed into everything I do.

I know that victory comes each time I beat myself and no one else; I have only one person to keep up with now, and I know her very well. Each time I get back that test or paper, or walk off that track or trail, I am truly happy and at peace. What Joneses?