Holding Space

WORDS BY WARRICK WOOD
PHOTOGRAPHY BY EMILY MAYE

The term ‘holding space’ is used regularly in psychology to describe a psychologist’s endeavor to provide a safe and non-judgemental place for clients to experience their emotions. As someone who works in the field of sport and exercise psychology, and as a serial overthinker, I often reflect on my own pursuit of this virtue. Over the last few years, I’ve found myself noticing with increasing frequency that running can inherently provide such a space, and I continue to lean on it daily as if it were my own personal therapist, not to distract or to avoid, but rather to feel.

To provide some context, several years ago, I wrote a piece for Tracksmith titled ‘Running Alongside Grief’ after my beautiful son, Frankie, passed away from brain cancer just a few months following his third birthday, and only five months following his heartbreaking diagnosis. In sharing ideas of how we can best support others who are grieving, I found it cathartic to put into words what my family and I found helpful as we navigated, and continue to grapple with, the unfathomable loss of a child – something I’ve often heard referred to as an ‘out of order’ death. As time has passed, I’ve grown to reflect on how running has encouraged me to continue putting one foot in front of the other – both figuratively and literally – while holding the space for me to connect intimately with the grief, as difficult as that can be at times. 

Often, I hear people acknowledge exercise for its distraction potential. I wholeheartedly agree, and, at times, I will use exercise to disconnect from life’s stressors. However, many of us live in cultures where we become conditioned to strive to get back on track quickly when dealing with the loss of a loved one, and lauded when it appears that we are doing well. Furthermore, we look to support others by fixing pain and reducing suffering – “C’mon, we’ll go out to take your mind off things”. 

While sometimes deflection can be helpful, this cultural approach does mean that finding the space to feel the emotions that are important to us can be challenging, particularly when we are trying to assimilate back into the real world - one that largely specializes in surface level small talk and avoidance. We grind through each day trying to overcome the inertia and lost momentum by forcing ourselves to focus intensely during Zoom meetings or to efficiently multitask, only to become frustrated that we cannot do these tasks the way that we used to. Simultaneously, we are avoiding or at least neglecting the difficult, yet important, emotions relevant to our loss that deserve our attention. 

However, it does appear that there is a synergy between running and grief that allows one to feel both optimism and pain in a way that can be therapeutic at times, while conflicting at others. Perhaps it’s the psychological freedom and metaphor of moving forward, or maybe it’s the way that exercise combines physical and mental dimensions in a way that few other endeavors do. Everyone has their own “stuff” and their own unique motivations. For me, running has never been about pursuing distraction, but rather focusing on something that is deeply consuming while, importantly, carrying the grief with me in a way that I feel more connected to it.

“With these charged emotions that I carry while training, I can’t help but question: Can grief (or other difficult experiences for that matter) enhance our ability to push our efforts, stay in the fight, and provide a performance edge?”

So, surprisingly in some ways, I find myself often grabbing my running shoes and heading out the door to connect with Frankie and the associated emotions, more so than to distance myself from them. Within the run, I am sometimes able to challenge myself in the pursuit of personal growth as I experience the satisfaction of achievement alongside the feelings of loss and guilt, allowing a healthy push and pull of my feelings as opposed to the former serving as an unworthy substitute for the latter. With these charged emotions that I carry while training, I can’t help but question: Can grief (or other difficult experiences for that matter) enhance our ability to push our efforts, stay in the fight, and provide a performance edge? Honestly, I don’t know, and I’m sure it’s time and context specific, but I like to think that Frankie’s life and subsequent passing have given me some perspective and an improved ability to challenge my mind and body. Not always, but sometimes.

In recent times, we have seen a shift from some of the more traditional psychological approaches to a proliferation of acceptance and mindfulness-based practices that value paying attention to our thoughts and emotions without judging or labelling them as either positive or negative. It would appear that running can provide us with a wonderful space to adopt such a perspective, where we can notice and feel the whole gamut of emotions that we’re supposed to, as opposed to actively wrestling with the feelings that we have traditionally been encouraged to avoid. It might very well be possible that this could allow us to grow as runners, not in spite of our grief, but because of the ways through which they together nurture engagement and a deep sense of meaning.

For me, there is also a paradox of sentiments following a run. Once I have conquered many miles, when my lungs are burning and my thoughts return back to the environment around me, although I may have just embraced a newfound effort, I become disappointed that it’s over. Part of this is inevitably the aftermath of the cocktail of emotions, adrenaline, and fatigue, however I sense that it is also the awareness that for a passing moment, I felt the joy, optimism, and accomplishment that can be elusive in other environments for those who are grieving. Was it Robert Louis Stevenson or Buddha that once said “It is better to travel hopefully than to arrive”? Whoever it was, I’m certain, they were referring to a journey that expands beyond physical miles.

The space to feel… What a beautiful gift.

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Warrick and his family have started a charity called ‘Frankie to the Rescue’ to support families
experiencing similar circumstances. They provide gifts and activity packs for children as well
as parents’ packs, with a focus on those receiving palliative care. For more information or to
make a donation, please visit https://givealittle.co.nz/cause/frankie-to-the-rescue