New Runners: Let Go and Just Run
Throw away your crutch
I have been a runner for almost 15 years. That running experience has shown me I can practically run any time and in nearly every condition. I can run in the heat, cold, rain, or snow. When I am sober, notably hungover, tired, sad, angry, elated, nervous, or anxious, I run. I run to loud music, the sounds of nature, or the subtle vibration of a treadmill (not fun, but I can do it). I run to trounce my previous times, and I run because I can.
All I need is a pair of running shoes, and my body can do the rest.
This was not always the case. When I was new to running, I was extremely meticulous about the minutia of the run. I had to have the perfect outfit, carefully examine every route, and the run’s timing had to be just right. I would stop running if my music gave out. I drank the same horrible tasting energy drink before my long runs. And every run had to be better either in time or distance.
My obsession with the details of my runs took over, and I was destroying something I had just started to love. I was ruining the run.
Running is one of the most basic movements most humans can do. It’s one foot in front of the other, at a faster rate.
If I took away everything I obsessed over about the run: the energy drink, the music, the right shirt, the route that always had to end downhill — I would still have the run.
It’s that basic. Why was I making it so hard?
I never had an “ah-ha” moment I can point to where I can say, “that’s where I learned just to run.” It came over time. After having children, I had to squeeze in my runs whenever I could — rain or shine, morning or night.
After participating in numerous races, I found examining every part of the route beforehand made the race less fun when it came to race day. I don’t even look at the course overview for most races now, and I still set PRs.
If my headphones die while running, I let myself enjoy the sounds of my breathing and the tempo of my steps. Although I prefer to run in certain pants or shorts, I can run in anything if my legs still work. The horrific tasting energy drinks made me jittery and never actually improved my time.
And it didn’t take long for me to realize that I didn’t have to (and more realistically, physically couldn’t) beat my personal best time every time I ran.
Throw away the crutch.
Thousands of miles and years later, I have realized the reason I obsessed over the details of a run. I was using it as a crutch. I thought I needed all those pieces to have a good run.
If I was missing one item during a run, then that was the reason my time didn’t improve, or I couldn’t pound out another two miles.
Which is such crap.
Bad runs happen all the time. The more I run, the more bad runs I have, and that is perfectly fine.
Now, I enjoy my “bad” runs.
Slower runs allow my mind to wander instead of focusing on my pace. During these runs, I can think and hash out problems instead of telling myself: go faster, push further!
I will always have those runs where I push myself, turn up that one song that magically makes my legs go faster, and focus solely on my pace. That’s how I improve. But, I could have saved a lot of energy, money, and self-doubt if I told myself fifteen years ago that some days it’s ok to go out and just run.
Just run.
