What Running Taught Me.

“Running is the heart of what it means to be human.”

I’ve been “a runner” for 12 years now, ever since my middle school self traded in Nike Jordan’s and knee-length basketball shorts for Asics stability shoes and tiny racing briefs.

In those 12 years, I’ve endured most of it: mile repeats and speed drills, the dread and thrill of weekend track meets, the college recruitment, the injuries, the infatuation. Life became a numbers game: 16-mile training runs, 5am wake-up calls. 7:30 road pace, 6:30 race pace. Two minutes hard, one minute easy, 30 seconds rest.

Overtime, running shifted from breaking records and red tape to larger life lessons. Sure, the feeling of being in shape is empowering, and yes, personal bests are awesome. But outside of the movement itself, I’ve realized how much running has affected my world off the roads.

Finding Flow.

“It is how we choose what we do, and how we approach it, that will determine whether the sum of our days adds up to a formless blur, or to something resembling a work of art.”

For a runner, there is nothing more incredible than when your legs are on autopilot. You’ve locked into a pace and feel like you’re gliding, or flying, lost in an effortless rhythm that continues to propel you forward.

“Finding flow” is actually a psychological concept; it’s state of mind you achieve when fully immersed in a task, unaware of the world around you. You lose track of time, feel in complete control, and are typically more creative and productive.

The lock runners experience is essentially finding flow, which I’m constantly training my mind to replicate in other important areas of my life, like while at the office or writing posts and poems. I constantly try to push myself deep into that rhythm; just like physical movement on the roads, I try to lock into an emotional movement where I’m both acutely focused and lost in my work.

Bending Barriers.

“As long as you’re uncomfortable, you’re growing.”

I chose the word “bend” instead of “break” because running let’s you test moving in and out of your comfort zone — eventually expanding the amount of discomfort you can be in and learning how to turn uncomfortable unknowns into sources of strength. If I’m running a solid 7:50 pace, I can “play” with trying to do 7:35's, a small push that I can feel, but isn’t too invasive.

Similarly, I try to be comfortable with “uncomfortable” situations in life, realizing the issue at hand isn’t a larger reflection of my own self. Once I’m in that “bend zone,” I become vulnerable: open to new opportunities, new learnings, new love.

Simplicity.

“Running is real and relatively simple — but it ain’t easy.”

My favorite thing about running is you don’t need much besides a good pair of shoes. My favorite runs are the ones without my watch or music, and I’m literally letting my sneakers guide me through each mile until I decide to call it quits.

Still, less doesn’t always equate to ease. I try to live as simply as I can, but it’s really hard.

I try not to own many things. I have a mattress, closet of clothes, five pairs of shoes, camping gear, random souvenirs from past travels, old letters, a few notebooks, two instruments, and three forks to my name.

I hope to never let possessions control or define me, but they often do. When I do want things — fancy running shorts, crock pot, a new bag—I remember how freeing it is to run simply, and therefore live simply.

Control.

“My life didn’t please me, so I created my life.”

The most baffling thing about running is you’re exerting energy the whole time — and usually are in varying levels of pain.

But I hardly see people stop.

Once discomfort sets in, people don’t take that as a reason to call it quits. And thats a reminder that we‘re always in the drivers seat. It’s up to me and me only to carve my life: feel what I feel, and do what I do.

Crazy-Fun.

“Yah, right. Crazy people. Mas Locos. But one thing about crazy people—they see things other people don’t.”

As grueling as a marathon is, as not-fun as a 5am wakeup can be, and as disheartening as a bad race feels, the sometimes-insane challenge of running is a constant reminder that really hard things are not only incredibly rewarding, but really fun.

Call it a constant state of runner’s delirium, but those tough runs coupled with deltra brain ways and endorphin releases mean the awful can be awesome. The last marathon I ran was one of the most excruciating things I’ve ever been through, but I look back at it and oddly also remember it being a blast.

The lesson in that?

Sometimes the hardest things in life allow you to experience new emotions and new appreciations. And maybe all of us runners are a little crazy, but at least it reminds us how to fully embrace life.