Imposter Syndrome

By James M. Jackson

(Apologies to those who commented yesterday when I accidently published this instead of today.)

Last month, for a hoot, I participated in the Michigan Senior Olympics. The only requirements to participate are you must be at least fifty years old and pay the registration fee. Since the events take place downstate, and I live in the middle of Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, that meant an eight-hour drive and motel reservations added to the cost.

Based on its schedule and mine, I could run in the 5K (3.1 miles) race. Besides the experience and to say I did it, a bonus was that if I did well enough, I could take part in the 2025 National Senior Olympics. Unlike the normal Olympics, which occur every four years, the National Senior Olympics occur bi-annually. In 2025, the Des Moines, Iowa area is the host. My life partner, Jan, grew up in Newton (home of Maytag back in the day), which is about thirty miles east of Des Moines. We could visit her old stomping grounds, and she could have a meal at the local Maid-Rite (the loose meat sandwiches may be an acquired taste), and I could say I participated in the National Senior Olympics.

In most events, to qualify for the nationals, you must finish in the top four places. Turns out for the 5K, all you have to do is finish. Unless a meteorite struck me, I was sure I could finish.

Because it’s a road race, not a track race, the venue was at Waterford Hills Road Racing, a 1.4-mile racetrack for cars. It included two hills and a bunch of turns. I arrived early enough to walk the course. The hills weren’t as steep as ones I train on. The only impediment I foresaw was that after cresting the steeper and longer of the two hills, the track dropped quickly. I’d need to pay attention to my footwork and not overstride.

With my scouting over, I began chatting with the other participants—who looked like serious runners. One guy was normally a marathoner, but since that wasn’t one of the events, he was trying his hand at the 5K. He had run the mile race the day before and come in second in our age group (70-74). Turns out, not only is he a marathoner, this year, he’ll complete his quest to finish fifty marathons in fifty states. The tradition is to complete your 50^th in Hawaii, where they make a big deal of the success.

Me "running" the Marquette
Half Marathon (9/2023)

I jog because it’s an exercise I can do (mostly) outside year-round regardless of where I am. Once I had some speed. I was the fastest kid in my high school my senior year when I ran track, but that was 56 years ago. As far as I was concerned then, a quarter mile was a long-distance race. When I returned to longer-distance running for exercise, I’d run too fast (not that it was fast, mind you), pull muscles, stop running. Rinse and repeat until I discovered Jeff Galloway’s Run-Walk-Run method.

Jeff’s philosophy is most runners can benefit by walk breaks during their run. The reason I tried was because he claimed it decreases the number of injuries runners experience. And that’s what’s happened. Oh, I still experience some issues, but nothing so serious that I have to give up running.

Talking with another guy, also in my age group, who didn’t look like he had an ounce of extra weight, I discovered he hoped to run the race in under twenty-two minutes. Even when I ran corporate 5K races in my thirties, I had never run a 5K in under twenty-two minutes.

By this time, I was having serious Imposter Syndrome issues. These people were Runners with a capital R. I used the Run-Walk-Run approach. Looking around, I was sure that no one else was going to do that. Well, maybe one woman. She had just begun running, lived in the area, and her husband (a real runner) had talked her into it.

Imposter Syndrome and I are old friends dating at least from my high school days. The spring of my senior year, Simon and Garfunkel released Bookends. The lead song on the flip side of the LP was “Fakin’ It,” which sure resonated with me.

It’s not like I was at the Michigan Senior Olympics trying to prove anything. As I mentioned, I initiated the trip and race as a lark. I was not running to beat anyone; I was only competing against myself. My primary goals were to finish, standing up, and not hurt myself. Long gone are the days when I had any desire to push myself so hard I would puke my guts out at the end of a race. I was participating and not racing.

And maybe that’s part of where the Imposter Syndrome gets its sustenance. I’m not giving it my all, and therefore, it doesn’t count? Sounds like a misinterpreted parental message imbedded deep in my psyche. It’s the same thing with writing. I don’t write full time. I could make more money if I spent the same hours working at McDonalds. I don’t have an MFA degree; I’m a math guy. That’s what the Imposter inside spouts, even though I have eight published novels and one non-fiction book, all with good reviews, and I teach two popular writing classes.

We line up at the start line. The race is chip timed, meaning the racing bibs contain a chip that records when you cross the start line and finish line. The difference is your race time, regardless of who crossed the finish line first. I don’t want to screw up the runners with my Run-Walk-Run strategy. At the start of the race, I take off at my run speed, but then after a specified time, I slow to walk speed for twenty or thirty seconds before returning to run speed. Those runs and walks create my average pace.

If I start with people who run at my run pace, when I first switch to walk, I could jam them up, which I do not want to do. To prevent that, I start much further back in the pack, hoping before my first walk session to create enough space to not inconvenience anyone. The gun starts the race.

I cross the start line four seconds after the gun sounds, cautioning myself to stick to my scheduled pace. I pass a bunch of slower runners, and when I take my first walk break and check my watch, I realize I have started way too fast. Good news, my walk does not cause anyone any problems. A few people pass me as I settle into a rhythm and bring my pace down to where it should be.

Given the course layout, I can see the real runners stretched out ahead of me. Over the first mile, I pass a few runners who also started out too fast. After that, I am running alone. I can’t hear or see anyone behind me and, unless someone injures themselves, I’ll never catch anyone ahead of me. I’m just running on my own, like I do during my jogs, alternating runs and walks, and feeling pretty good.

Me finishing the Green Bay
Half-marathon (5/2024)

With a mile to go and feeling I still have energy, I pick up my pace. I power up the last hill and stride for the finish line, crossing in under twenty-five minutes—the goal I had set for myself to accomplish by the end of the year!

And what is my immediate reaction? Crud, I left too much in the tank. If I were a runner, I would have figured that out and finished faster. Despite running better than planned or even hoped, Imposter Syndrome remains in place and functioning even while my heart is still pounding.

Despite knowing its tricks and false narrative, I still fall victim to my Imposter Syndrome. If reincarnation exists to give us another chance to work on our spiritual problems, the only thing that would cause me not to return to solve my Imposter Syndrome is because those in charge decide I’m a lost cause. Oh wait, that’s my Imposter Syndrome talking again.

I know I’m not alone. Do you suffer from Imposter Syndrome in any part of your life?

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James M. Jackson authors the Seamus McCree series. Full of mystery and suspense, these thrillers explore financial crimes, family relationships, and what happens when they mix. To learn more information about Jim and his books, check out his website, https://jamesmjackson.com. You can sign up for his newsletter (and get to read a free Seamus McCree short story).