Thoughts on Running
The joys of the primitive activity
Something I only realized when I started looking at a running shoe to buy was the deep rabbit hole of running. With running evolving from a niche activity to one of the most ubiquitous hobbies worldwide, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised by the seemingly endless essays detailing shoe specs like energy return, cushioning reactivity, and foot stability, the personal experience of the “rides” shoes give, nor the 3D foot scans outputting shoe recommendations.
Despite being vastly overwhelmed, I was fascinated by all the angles of consideration for an activity as simple and primitive as running. This was especially true when I saw photos of runners’ personal shoe collections, which started with a humble hors d’oeuvre daily trainer, and progressed into an appetizer speed work shoe, a salad competition shoe, multiple main courses for shoes designed for varying distances (ie: 5km, 10km, 20km, etc), and wrapping up with a dessert winter running shoe and a mignardise trail running shoe. (Yes I really did just compare shoes to food).
At its very core, running is simply putting one foot in front of the other at a faster pace than normal. Despite this being such a physical act ingrained into our very DNA from generations of humans running to hunt, to escape, and to travel, running intertwined with human ingenuity to combine material science and biomechanics with industrialization, which transformed it into an experience so many people endear. Preferring the feeling of gripping iron and feeling the hinges in my body move to lift artificially heavy metal rods instead of putting one foot in front of the other in a face pace, I only started understanding the running experience after buying a new pair of daily trainers and going out for a couple runs. In the midst of the quickening heartbeat for the flow of blood, the wheezing lungs which hunger for more air, and the feeling of force rattling away from powerful muscles striking the unforgiving pavement, there is joy to be sought.
Running is a bit like driving a car. As the scenery gradually melts into a mosaic of changing landscapes through the rolling of tires or the striking of feet, I’m alert, look straight ahead, and sync to music. The outside white noise drowning underneath the vibrating bass of the song ringing in my ear canals, my mind wanders: what am I going to eat, what clothes am I going to buy, what am I doing after? If the thoughts grow too distracting and I miss a turn, I reign my mind back and focus on the task at hand: the rolling of tires along the bumping road or the workings of joints in my legs to propel myself forward- happy intermediary mental states of living in the moment where nothing else matters.
Regardless of the clandestine joy I find when running, I find it hard to bring myself to run in the first place. Scheduling my runs in the early morning, I find myself giving excuses and a checklist of things to accomplish before running. It usually starts with going to the washroom and emptying out my kidneys, which leads to drinking more water to be “optimally hydrated”, which further leads to feeling too full and needing to empty my kidneys again. Of course, then there’s the extra time I liberally take as I slowly slip on my cushioned feet coffins and tie knots to drive the final nail in them as if there is no chance of escaping the discomfort of pounding my feet on the pavement for a nice run.
When I finally ride the elevator to the bottom floor, open the front door, and start my fitness timer on my watch, the feeling of invincibility begins to sprout from the seeds sowed in the defeat of internal resistance and procrastination. Despite the simultaneous feeling of discomfort, I take over as my body’s master and whip it to run however many miles necessary to not feel regret when I finally unlace my shoes, wash the accumulated sweat under my cotton sweater, and smile with the rewarding dose of post-run dopamine.
The feeling of victory does not last long though. It really only lasts for a day before it sinks into the mattress where my body rests and the rectangular pillow where my head graces at the close of a hard fought day. As I reach over to my nightstand and set my alarm clock for another early morning, the feeling of victory is no longer present. It’s now replaced by the onset of dread. I have another early morning run scheduled tomorrow. But this run is not the same as what I just did- it will be done for a longer distance or a faster pace. It is true that I will feel more procrastination and resistance leading up to my next run. My mind will be more uncomfortable. My quads will be more tight. My calves will be more sore. My resolve will be more challenged.
Indeed, the old Navy Seal adage applies: “the only easy day was yesterday”~