Ikigai: Finding my Purpose through Running in the Mud

Yesterday I ran in the Tamalpa Headlands 50K in Marin, California. It’s known to be a demanding race with plenty of steep climbs, single tracks covered in rocks and roots, and the challenge of running downhill while weaving through packs of hikers making their way to Stinson Beach. This year’s conditions featured thick fog, mist that rained down on us throughout the day soaking our clothes, muddy trails, and chilling winds. In graduate school, I learned that one of the best ways to get to know someone is to ask about their “favorite kind of day”. This is mine.

Venn diagram provided in the book, created by American entrepreneur Marc Winn to illustrate the concept of ikigai

Many people shake their heads at this. The race provided a perfect opportunity for me to reflect on a book I’m reading called Ikigai: The Japanese Secret to a Long and Happy Life, by Hector Garcia and Francesc Miralles. The Japanese concept of ikigai encompasses elements of what many refer to as finding our purpose, living a meaningful life, or discovering our reason for getting up in the morning. In the opening chapter, the authors talk about their motivation for writing the book, which sprang from a conversation they had about logotherapy. This is a form of therapy developed in the 1930s by Viktor Frankl to address spiritual suffering and existential confusion. Logotherapy encourages us to explore questions such as “what is the meaning of my life?” and “why do some people know what they want and have a passion for life, while others languish in confusion?” (page 2). 

“Languishing in confusion” is an apt description for several phases of my life. Completing an undergraduate degree in film precisely at the moment I was realizing I didn’t want a career in film. Working for a tech startup in Boston where I managed a team of 15 professionals, thinking all the while that I had no idea what I was doing and wondering if this was what I wanted. And then there was the profound period of grief in my early 30s after I completed my doctorate and experienced a significant loss in my personal life. It was during this phase, about 6 years ago, that I decided to start running. 

For me, running didn’t fit into any of the paradigms of ikigai. I wasn’t good at it, I didn’t love it (or even like it), I would never be paid for it, and the world certainly didn’t need another amateur runner. Though I had never heard of the concept at the time, the spirit of ikigai rests upon the Japanese notion that while some have found their ikigai, others are still looking. Either way, we each have it hidden deep inside of us. Once we find it, we aren’t meant to do it for a few years before retiring to a tropical island. We find longevity by doing what we love for as long as our health allows. But until we find it, we have to keep looking.

Many of the concepts of ikigai have striking similarities to what I discuss with clients in my work as a psychotherapist. Behavioral activation, a concept from Cognitive Behavioral Therapy, is one of the best strategies I’ve found to manage depression, anxiety, and grief. It’s a strategy that’s simple, but not easy. The idea is to intentionally practice a behavior or an activity that stands a chance of activating a positive emotional state or mood. But we can’t really know which activity will have this effect until we try it. 

Since one of the most painful symptoms of depression and grief is the loss of pleasure or joy in activities, it can take a significant amount of discipline to try something new. Trying something we’ve never done before carries a strong likelihood that we’ll be terrible at it because it’s our first time. It carries the risk of humiliation and rejection, which can inevitably trigger anxiety and avoidance. For anyone who has experienced depression or grief, this is a big ask. It means pushing back against the urge to isolate, and finding motivation to go out and do something when all we want to do is sleep. What I tell my clients is that it won’t be easy, but it will work. 

Back in 2018, I carried a stubborn narrative that “I am NOT a runner”. This probably formed during my high school years, when my basketball coach doled out running drills in the south Florida heat as punishment for “fooling around too much” during practice. In my twenties, I occasionally laced up a pair of sneakers and tried to run around the block a few times–or whatever I thought “runners” were doing out there. I often returned home feeling frustrated and doubled down on my hate of running, reminding myself of how many other options there are to stay active. But in my thirties, at this particular stage of life when I was deep in grief, a friend suggested I try a new activity. “How about running?” My immediate response was to laugh with a very certain NO. Why would I run when I could be doing anything else with my time? Why would anyone choose to run?

In the book Ikigai, I appreciate the author’s nod to Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi’s concept of flow - the pleasure, delight, creativity, and process when we are completely immersed in life. This concept was the focus of my research in my masters program. I had experienced flow plenty of times while painting and playing team sports. But there are so many things out there that can bring us into a state of flow - snowboarding, reading a good book, playing chess, having a meaningful conversation with an old friend, and cooking. I thought, maybe running solo without chasing a ball or scoring any points could be one of them.

The most unlikely way to reach this state, however, is to get caught up in the lure of immediate pleasures that flood us with dopamine or help us numb pain. These instant gratifications are very enticing during periods of depression or grief. The list of distractions is ever-growing, keeping pace with advances in the devices we have at our fingertips and the substances we can so readily consume. For me, running gave me a thread to follow, one run at a time.

So what’s the path to finding our path, while avoiding the urge to seek pleasure or numb pain? 

How do we find our purpose, our meaning, our reason for living? Do we chase what we love, what we’re good at, what someone will pay us for, or what the world needs? What I’ve learned is that it's best to start by trying something new. Anything. You might need to talk yourself into it. If you can name something you find meaningful, you can probably think of a day when you didn’t know you loved it. You might not have even known it existed (hello pickleball friends). Once you pick the thing you want to try, keep the stakes low by calling it an experiment – another strategy borrowed from Cognitive Behavioral Therapy. Once you get yourself out there, pay attention to how you feel during AND afterwards. You’ll likely feel dread leading up to it because it’s new; pay less attention to that.

This is mindfulness. Start with noticing what you’re thinking about. Are your thoughts wandering to the past or to the future, or are you immersed in the moment? Are there any beliefs about yourself that you’re able to disprove, like “I can’t run around this block three times”? Don’t try to change the thoughts, just notice them. 

Then notice what’s going on in your body. Go beyond the feeling of your strained muscles or the possibility that you’re getting sweaty and uncomfortable. Pay attention to the signals from your body, and keep in mind that some of the best sensations will likely happen afterwards. Is that a smile on your face? What were you feeling when you left the stage after your first open mic night? Are you feeling energized or depleted? 

Then notice your mood, along with any fleeting emotions. They won’t necessarily be positive, but notice them anyway. You could be feeling several things at once. Jot them down. Now pay attention to your actions, and what you’re drawn to do next. Are there any urges? Are you craving a healthy meal to share with a friend, or do you want to go sit on the couch and doom scroll while you eat an entire bag of cheetos? Again, don’t try to fit your experience into what it “should” feel like. Just notice what happens. 

This is it. It’s simple but it’s hard. Do more of what brings joy or builds a sense of mastery. You’ll likely have to go through many activities that are decidedly NOT it before you get to something that sticks. You’ll experience failure. If there’s a shadow of a doubt, try the thing two or three times before you give up on it. I ran on the roads in San Francisco for a while before I discovered that I could just as easily run on the trails on the other side of the Golden Gate Bridge. It took many, many runs before I stopped thinking in spirals about how much I hated running. I signed up for a few local races. I made some friends. After years of this, I built up to the 50K distance. This is when, three years in, trail running became a passion for me. I moved up to 100K and 100-mile races. I became a leader of a trail running community, and one day I realized that I hardly recognized who I had become.

Is trail running my life’s passion? My version of ikigai? No. 

But trail running helped lead me to it. What I’ve discovered about my ikigai at this point in time is this: it’s pushing myself through an edge into discomfort to see what I can discover about myself, then helping others do the same. This is the thread that connects all the pieces of my path, fragmented as they may seem. Competitive sports. Moving from being an apprentice to an artist when I was 20 years old to later teaching and supervising therapists early in their careers. Working as a roller skating character at a theme park to work through social anxiety during college. Trying out various careers. Moving around the country a few times. Teaching a self-defense class. Trying my hand at becoming a researcher, a professor, and a public speaker (these didn’t stick, not yet). I’ve experienced failure many, many times and I’ve made so many mistakes. Somewhere along this path I decided to become a therapist, which allows me to keep exploring all the elements that make up my sense of ikigai, including trail running.

How can you build a roadmap for yourself to find your purpose, based on what I’ve learned?

1. Identify something that interests you, at least a little bit

2. Find a low-stakes way to try it out

3. Pay attention to how you feel during and afterwards

4. Track it. On a scale of 0-10, rate your experience of joy, your sense of mastery, and your mood

5. Try it a few more times in different contexts or with slightly higher stakes

6. When you feel a spark, follow it 

7. Find a way to keep yourself disciplined – it won’t always be easy or fun

8. If this isn’t it, try something slightly different based on what you’ve learned

9. If it requires you to maintain healthy habits, put a star next to it on your list

10. If you can build a sense of community, give it two stars 

Online Therapy to Help You Find Your Purpose

I’ve only covered a few concepts in the book, but there are so many other gems of wisdom. I encourage you to go read it. You can also contact me if you’d like some guidance and accountability in finding what’s meaningful to you.

Ikigai

The Japanese Secret to a Long and Happy Life