The Peace of Running

I told a friend recently of my marathon, and he asked me what was fun about running that far. He's not unathletic or out of shape, yet he saw no appeal in the sport that he could fathom.

This is not a character flaw on his part. Endurance sports of any type will never be for the masses. Sure, when you see 30,000 people lining up in New York or Chicago, it's perhaps tempting to view it as something that has reached the populace. The fact is though, that while the marathon is certainly growing in appeal, I'd venture to guess most of those that do complete one don't do so because of any great love for distance running, but more to simply prove to themselves and others that they can, and have done something not many others have.

I haven't run for this sustained a period of time since I was a kid, so I don't feel I can sit here and say I have a true "love" of the sport. At least not yet. If I am still running four times a week three years from now, I'll feel more qualified to make such a statement. I will say though that having been doing this for three months, and having completed over 50 training runs, I can see both why there are those that hate the thought of running for anything more than the bus, and those that have a true passion for the sport.

Distance running is a brutal sport. No, it's not football or boxing... it won't shorten your life. But it's high impact, it can hurt, it's often too hot or cold and, ipod or no, it's quite simply too boring for most people. I get that.

I think though, why I'm coming to appreciate it so much is that whether I'm running alone near my house, or in a 5k with 20,000 people, I'm really just there with my own mind. I find it extremely cathartic. For the time I'm out there, the only thing that matters in the immediate domain of my life is keeping up the rhythm, putting one foot in front of another, moving ever onward.

That's not to say that thoughts don't occur to me, or that my mind doesn't wander, but when I think of something that's going on in my life during a run, I'm watching through a prism. The emotions are somehow more muted - not absent, just dampened. It allows me a clarity of thought and an objectivity that I find it hard to replicate when at rest. With my physical being preoccupied, my mental arrives at a moment of zen, except it's more than a moment; it's a consistent focus, a state of mind.

I don't think this is the same thing as a "runner's high". That suggests a state of euphoria that I've never experienced during a run. I have sometimes felt exhilirated after completing a run, if it was a race, if I've run further or faster than ever before, or have completed another heretofore unconquered challenge, but never while I'm still out there on the streets. What I alluded to above I consider more like a "runner's peace". Physically I'm pushing my body to new extremes, but mentally I'm as relaxed as I ever am.

Not every run is like that. An injury, foul weather or frequent traffic interruptions create interference like static on a radio, ruining the broadcast. But hey, that's why they have reruns, right?