What I Think About When I Think About Running
Since September I’ve been running often. During lunches and after work, and anytime I can. I’m down two sizes, feeling stronger, and happy, and there is still a lot more work left to do, but running feels amazing again for the first time in a long time, and I need to take a moment to celebrate my return to it.
I started writing this after a particularly mind-altering run in Forest Park on September 27, 2010, to remind myself why I run on the days I feel tired, or discouraged, or otherwise might not remember. Upon revisiting this post prior to publishing it I was reminded of how I can rarely view or ponder or walk into any woods without simultaneously thinking of these four lines from Frost, from Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening:
The woods are lovely dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
——————–
I was sitting at work just like every other day. Sitting, sitting, so much sitting still.
On this day I could physically feel the way my body ached to move. The way it needed to sprint, to physically exert itself until every ounce of energy was spent. To erase the anxiety, and the fear, and the doubt, and the tiny stresses of the day compounded into heaps of worry etched across furrowed brows. The way my legs needed to stretch, to reach out for soft dirt and moss and tread quickly, steadily, moving with the rest of me, one unit in forward motion, with a combined goal: To move forward, ever forward.
This time, I listened. I knew what my body needed, what it wanted, and I listened. Simple really. And yet the simplest of occasions are so easily complicated.
I concentrated on my breathing and heard the soft sound of my feet padding cautiously against the soft dirt. Later: The more solid sound of my feet finding traction and moving quicker when bends in the trail were harder. Ferns everywhere, and I could smell recent rain still resting on them, and my heart traveled back to weekends spent hiking with my sister and my dad, the three of us seeking solace underneath a seemingly endless platoon of pine trees, tall and stoic. Happily heavily breathing, I sought to memorize leaves on low-hanging branches perfectly obscuring a bustling city only a few miles below where I catapulted myself down, down, downhill and around a bend in between two solid trunks–trees older than I can ever hope to be–around a small creek barely trickling with water, and up, up, uphill to another bend in the trail where I could again look out onto a trove of trees peppered with bright gold and green hues, a forested blanket hiding everything but this moment, this exact place.
I had to force myself to make it to the trail. I had to fight to hold on to the feeling that my body NEEDED this time, needed this space to stretch and groan and grow. It’s so easy to drive home and sit. To get complacent. To make excuses, however valid. “I’m too tired, too sore, too busy; it’s too dark, too cold, too hot.”
I know them all by heart. I heard every single one of them in my head the moment I decided to run that day.
Too busy listening to my legs telling me they needed to run until they couldn’t carry my weight anymore, I ignored every negative thought seeking to derail my new-found motivation, and the sheer exhilaration I felt when my feet starting propelling me down that trail–as my entire body instantly remembered how to work seamlessly in unison–was one of the most euphoric sensations I’ve ever felt. I was almost laughing as I sprinted as fast as I could, years of muscle memory from countless basketball and track practices once again pulsing through my arms and legs, reminding me my body knows how to do this. It’s always known how to do this.
The simplest of occasions are so easily complicated, when all my body wants to do is something perfectly simple. Something perfectly part of its original design. It wants to move.
——————–
*Post title inspired by Murakami’s What I Talk About When I Talk About Running. If you haven’t read it, and you run, or bike, or want to do either, I highly recommend it.
Oh running, I could talk about it for hours, I think. It’s such cheap (but not easy!) therapy.
I will say that “The Cave” (Mumford & Sons) is one of the best to-get-me-going songs I’ve found because of this line, mostly:
“And I’ll find strength in pain
And I will change my ways”
That’s exactly why I run.
———
YES. I’ve been meaning to post my running mix for ages, but that song is most definitely on it. As is their “Sigh No More” and “Little Lion Man.”
I’ve been borderline OBSESSED with Florence + the Machine for the past month, too, so “Dog Days Are Over” and “Cosmic Love” have also recently been added.
Down two sizes? What?! I’ve been running for a year and nothing. NOT that I run to lose weight, I do it to keep me sane, but still…it’s weird because I was so ANTI-running before last October. Now I really miss just hearing my footsteps on a trail. It’s just me and the trail/road/goal. So satisfying.
———
That’s what took me so long to realize and understand: I love trail running more than any other kind of running. In fact, it’s really the only way it works for me. I can do road races (and have), but I prefer the trail, and it’s really the only way I want to run daily.
Yay for you! Two sizes! WOO HOO!
Running and I have a complicated history, but man, this post is inspiring. Good for you, lady. You’re so amazing.
That’s how I feel when I get on my yoga mat. It’s amazing how pushing our bodies into movement, listening to our breath, listening to our spirits(!), opens up so much emotional healing isn’t it?
This is how I used to feel about dancing. Then broken bones and untrustworthy knees ruined it for me.
I still feel it sometimes. The need to move.
I love this post, lady. It’s made me both happy and sad.
I love this. I love YOU.
I love how far you’ve come and how far you will go.
Keep moving, Kerri. I know you will. :)
[...] the one athletic activity that I’ve ever wanted to be able to do. I’ve read so many inspiring posts lately about running and I still feel that little sadness in my chest about never having done [...]
LOVE!
I love this post and it’s exactly what I needed to read today, as my mind is throwing up excuses for me to not run today.
@Hillary-
“This is how I used to feel about dancing. … I still feel it sometimes. The need to move.”
Ditto. (Funny, I was just reminiscing about my old dancing days on my blog…)
Kerri (Anne), I WAS ignoring my body’s aches just fine, but NOW I feel an itch to move. Thanks a lot. ;P
I love to hate/hate to love running. And I’m with you on the whole sitting all day kind of hurts thing. I’m fortunate to live a mile from where I work so I have started walking to and from work. It makes my day longer and colder (northern michigan) but it has been worth it. It makes me less anxious if I miss one of my runs. Keep up the great work! One more thing, I love that photo.
I meant to tell you when I first read this how much I love it. And you. I’m so proud of you, Kerr.
My body is craving, craving, craving to move, too. And yet, I always find excuses — I’m too tired, I have too much to do, I have to take care of my son. But, in order to do that last one well, I have to take of MYSELF, is what I’m realizing.
I know exactly what I need to do — and I intend to start a program the first of the year. You (and Jennie and others) are really such an inspiration to me, and I want to take you up on your offer to become workout buddies, even if that just means we check in with each via e-mail every few days. Deal?
xo
I’m jealous! I wish I could find something good about running. I did it for about 6 months, ran a 5K and a 4.1 mile leg of a marathon. But other than the races, I really hate it. I’m going to do the relay marathon again next year, so I’ll be training again at some point. But running never made me feel better the way I hear it does other people. I love the thrill of a race, but every other time I run, the training, it sucks.
And I wish it didn’t. Because reading what you wrote about it… I want it to be like that. I want it to suck sometimes, but be worth it. I’m so glad it is for you!
Lovely writing. Came to you via Kristabella; I just came in from a run, so your title caught my eye. I hate running as much as you seem to love it, but can identify nonetheless – my passion has two wheels and I wrote a similar-minded piece about it a few months back after a ride through the autumn woods. Again…lovely, thanks for sharing!