Pain Is Inevitable, Suffering Is Optional
There’s something about picking up a new book at the turn of the year that feels symbolic, like cracking open a fresh journal or setting intentions for what’s to come. Instead of setting any specific New Year’s resolutions, this week, I started reading What I Talk About When I Talk About Running by Haruki Murakami. The book isn’t just about running—it’s about life, discipline, and finding peace in the process. It’s a reflective kind of read, perfect for the start of the new year.
One quote really resonated: “Pain is inevitable, but suffering is optional.” It’s so simple, but the more I sit with it, the more meaning it creates.
In running (and life), pain is part of the process. Your muscles burn, your breath shortens, and there’s always that point where your monkey mind tries to convince you to stop. But what Murakami highlights is the choice we have in how we respond. Pain happens, but suffering—that’s a narrative we each create.
Looking back at 2024, I can see the of inevitable pain—tired and anxious nights, setbacks I didn’t anticipate, and the exhaustion that comes with trying to juggle all the things life throws at you. But those moments weren’t permanent. The suffering, the weight of it, often came when I let my thoughts spiral into “why me?” or “this is too much.” It was a reminder that our minds can either be our biggest allies or our greatest obstacles.
As I move into 2025, this quote feels like a mantra I want to carry forward. Pain will come—it always does. But I have the power to decide how I hold it. Can I let it pass through, or will I let it take up permanent residence in my mind and body? Can I lean into the discomfort without giving it the power to derail me?
This doesn’t mean glossing over hard times or pretending everything’s fine. It’s about learning to sit with pain, to acknowledge it without judgment, and then choosing what happens next. The breakdown of friendships, hardships and stress. It could look like finding humour in the situation, reaching out to someone for support, or simply taking a deep breath and reminding myself that it’s temporary.
Murakami’s words remind me that while I can’t control everything that happens, I can control how I show up. And that feels like a pretty good mindset to start the year.
So here’s to 2025. To showing up, to running the metaphorical marathon, and to letting go of suffering where we can. I hope we can make this year one of resilience, intention, and choosing the stories we want to carry forward.
