There's nothing simpler than lacing up your shoes and stepping out the front door for a run. You don't need to know where you're going or how long you'll be gone. You don't need to buy a membership, join a team, or spend years learning technique. Everything you need can be determined and adjusted as you go. All you have to do is start running.
For nearly two decades running has been my consistent companion, a sacred space regulated through the rhythm of my breath and the pounding of my feet. There's little distraction and ample room for a wandering mind. However, when the subject comes up in conversation, my love for running is often met with bewilderment. Many understand running as a means to get in shape, or to achieve a goal, but rarely something done for the sake of itself.
So, as I often do, I thought about it while running.
Why do I like to run?
Ultimately, the experience of running boils down to one thing: slowness.
We live in a world dominated by instant access to dopamine, where we consume at a 2x speed, endlessly scrolling through one 8 second video at a time. We fast forward. We skip. Heaven forbid we have to waste time on commercials.
In stark contrast, long-distance running is a slow experience. To commit yourself to the inefficiency of running, three feet to a stride, is to actively push back against the prevailing rush of modern society.
slowness of satisfaction
In our daily lives, it's easy to chase stimuli and novelty to avoid our present state. Our phones are glass encased relief valves, flooding us with distraction and on-demand entertainment. Why sit with what you're feeling if it doesn't feel good?
Running removes the option of avoidance.
While running, you're forced into a state of endured patience. Accepting the discomfort of your body is a prerequisite to going anywhere beyond a few miles. As you run, you experience a kaleidoscopic whirlwind of peaks and valleys, blurring the lines between mental and physical sensations. When you realize that your whole outlook can change within a couple of miles, the only thing left to do is keep going.
Slow satisfaction stems from the realization that it's okay to remain in an undesirable state. What is temporary is tolerable, and everything is temporary. You learn to curate your inner monologue, filtering out and reorganizing the constant steam of incoming signals, deciding what to focus on and what to ignore.
slowness of change
As humans, we're hardwired for novelty and surprise. Our relentless curiosity drives us towards exploration and achievement. But left unchecked, this same curiosity leads to the perpetual search for something new, sustaining the belief that fulfillment is only one more achievement away.
A long run is an agreement to sit within time. Things don't change that quickly while you're running. And with that lack of change comes the opportunity for a deeper perception of natural rhythms in the world around you.
As you run, you become aware. You feel the subtle shifts in temperature as the seasons change in front of your eyes. Plants flower and die around you. You're surrounded by the symphony of life, from bird call to thunder storm. Nature runs on a timescale much slower than our daily lives, a speed in which the patina of change becomes noticeable, with all its inherent beauty and drama on display.
But you must be out there to perceive it. And running is what provides the means, and the time, to settle into the world around you.
slowness of pursuit
To run is to constantly negotiate with progression. If you try to increase your mileage too quickly, you risk injury. If you try to push your pace too hard, you risk not finishing. Instead, you must lean into slow nature of compounding. You have to trust that years of miles, and countless hours on your feet, will build a pliant and enduring body. You will adapt, and what was once hard will become commonplace.
The art of running is learned through prolonged repetition, each step a mirrored continuation of the one before. Slowly the inefficiencies are weaned away, fine-tuning your stride and slowing your breath. And just as a painter must study color, and a photographer must be a student of light, as a runner you become a disciple of the body, contemplating your tendencies and weaknesses on the path of progression.
At a certain point, you begin to disappear into the act of running, and your internal state becomes indistinguishable from the external action. And this is where the path to mastery lies. You are moving, and movement is you. It's a state attainable by anyone, the only requirement is time.
Through running, you learn slowness. And through slowness, you learn life.
I believe the desire to run is ingrained within us, and that running will find you, when you're ready for it.