Why I run in silence
I've been starting to run longer distances in training for a 30 kilometer race next month. A couple of years ago I read that “real” runners don’t run with headphones or listen to music. They suffer through it. It struck me as stoic, so I stopped using headphones. But looking back, the real reason I probably stopped is because my headphones would get drenched in liters of sweat within a matter of days, and then break. In any case, I have come to enjoy running in silence.
As I am not distracted by music, this is how a typical 15 kilometer run goes.
The first 5-6 kilometers bring on a rush of emotions, worries, ideas, and thoughts that swirl through my mind. It’s like I am running through a tornado of that week’s bullshit. After 6 kilometers, as the rush of endorphins hits me (a very distinct prickly sensation around my forehead) my mind transforms into a mix of Tony Robbins and Oprah. All those worries flip into “you can do it, you’ll figure it out; you got this!”
At 8 kilometers these thoughts dissipate into silence, and I am left focusing on my breath. My breath is the only thing I can feel and hear, and I stop paying attention to my distance. This goes on for quite some time. I feel invincible and like I can go on forever. I am like the monk who ran 100 marathons in 100 days. This is meditation.
But it doesn’t, and after 12 kilometers, my leg starts to twitch. And then I get a cramp in my back. This turns into swearing under my breath, and my mind attempts to take the path of least resistance -- it tries to trick me into giving up early. “F*ck the monks.” I am battling with my mind. God, I wish I had a Deadmau5 song playing right now…
I embrace my fate and divert my attention to check my distance. I focus on getting through 250 meter increments (step by step, bird by bird...). This makes the final 3 kilometers seem shorter. Focusing on the full remainder of kilometers left is mental torture because you will start to forecast the amount of pain you’re going to feel. That is a recipe for disaster in a longer race.
The last 500 meters, I gun it. I am breathing through my nose and am short of breath. I keep yelling at myself. It’s a mantra: “The last 500 meters of the day. The last 500 meters of the day.” Salty sweat is pouring down my head and my eyeballs are burning. Snot shoots out of my right nostril off into the distance somewhere. And then before I know it, I’m done.
It was a good 15 kilometer run.
And then I realize...Shit, this is only half of what I’m supposed to do next month.