The Weekend Long Run: Mindfulness on the Run

I asked in a previous post, (or maybe I just thought it to myself), whether running itself was the same as meditation.  I suppose it depends a lot on how you do it.

It may not necessarily be meditation, but if you think about it, running should always be done mindfully.  In fact, distracted running could be seriously dangerous in a plethora of ways from the mild and hilarious to the breathtakingly sobering.  For example, a misstep at dusk over a crack in the sidewalk could lay you out on your face.  I’ll never forget the first time this happened to me.  I was a freshman in college, and I had just gotten back into running after having had knee surgery.  I had a new(ish) friend, and we were bonding over our desire to be runners and get fit.  We charged out the door for a dusky run (very uncharacteristic of me as I am NOT a night person – you already know this), and despite my general aversion to evening exercise, we were having a wonderful pleasant time.  It was spring, and the world was warming up.  People were finally coming outside, and on this particular Thursday night, it seemed that everyone in the off-campus neighborhood at The Ohio State University was out to breathe in some fresh air.  (Ok, sure, that’s a little idyllic.  It wasn’t so much like a 1950’s sitcom neighborhood.  Mostly they were college kids looking for hook-ups and booze… )  Anyways, as we trotted along past house after house of guys sitting on their porches with cheap beers in hand, we thought we were pretty cool – just a couple of fit girls out on the town!  But then, the increasing darkness got the better of me, my toe caught a crack in the craggy old sidewalk, and arms and legs went flying everywhere.  It wasn’t an elegant stumble.  It was a full-on, face down, everything lands on the ground fall, and instead of conveniently happening between houses, I was directly in front of a porch full of gentlemen just waiting for something funny to talk about.  That’s it – it wasn’t like I broke a tooth or had to be wheeled to the ER or anything.  I dusted myself off, grateful that no one could tell how red my face was in the low light, I mumbled “Yeah” when they asked if I was ok, and we kept running until we finished.  Lack of mindfulness?  Or just lack of adequate light?  I may never know, but I’ve fallen down running plenty of times since then (is that bad?), and that one is stuck in my memory forEVER.

But, like I said, it’s not always funny.  Several years ago, in my hometown, a high school student running in her quiet neighborhood one evening was hit by a car and killed.  There are a few things we can learn from her story.  She was running at dusk, running with rather than against traffic and had earbuds in, listening to music.  Any one of those things individually might be safe in the right circumstances, but together, they were likely all a contribution to that tragic outcome.  (Also, while I can appreciate the desire to run with music or run at or after dark, I can’t think of many good reasons to routinely run with traffic, and on that issue, I often take a firm stance.)

Those are obviously two extremes, but what’s the mindfulness lesson?  First, there’s the obvious one.  Mindfulness improves our safety while running.  Being aware of the sights and sounds surrounding you protects you from falls, cars, dogs, and creepers.  (*Disclaimer: When it comes to creepers, there are a few other important tips to keep in mind, like avoiding running alone at night, etc. etc., but this isn’t what this post is about.  Don’t be silly.  Be safe.)  In that respect, while I would suggest that you may be able to successfully listen to your book on tape while running, you may not be able to give it your full attention because you’ll also need to be looking both ways before crossing the road and such.  Not that that’s a bad thing.  You may not need to give that book your full attention, and that’s fine!  It’s just different from the mindful run that I’m talking about.

The second lesson about mindfulness is the real reason I wanted to write this post. The second lesson is something else entirely.  Not only can running mindfully keep us out of harm’s way, but it can also make each run so much more psychologically rewarding!  I’m in no way qualified to give instructions, but here’s what I’d suggest.  When you head out the door for a run, try heading out without the music/podcasts/book on tape.  Try heading out prepared to experience the feeling of running.  I’m a little bit of a purist, so unless I’m on the treadmill, I never listen to anything when I run.  With that said, I know I’m used to it, and maybe it’s easier said than done if you’re a routine music-runner.  I know it might sound like as much fun as pulling out your toenails one by one, but promise yourself 20 minutes of quiet running, and just stick a toe in.  See if it resonates with you.  (Maybe you’ll be surprised?)  If you’re already a quiet runner, you know what I mean!  Sometimes the silence itself is the best reason to head out the door.  Maybe you’re running just for the privilege of enjoying 30 minutes of quiet solitude in an otherwise busy day.  You get it.

So there you are, you’re on your quiet run, and you’re enjoying (hopefully) the silence.  I have played mind games for years of runs to keep me busy and pass the time.  I have found that the following little exercise helps me to refocus during my run, making the run feel easier, and helping me to get the most benefit from the experience, mentally and physically.  A couple miles into a medium-distance run, I begin to feel bored and my mind starts to drift towards thoughts of discomfort and a desire to be finished with the run and move on to snack time.  (Let’s face it – not every run is a euphoric experience.  Sometimes, you just need to get it done.)  It’s not unusual for me to obsessively check my watch to see how many miles or tenths of miles or minutes I have left.  It’s not because I find running to be miserable or anything, but just like everyone else, I get bored!  Lately, when I find myself in this frame of mind, I consciously redirect my thoughts.  I ask myself to observe how my body feels going through the motions of running.  I want not only to observe, but also to appreciate.

I begin to concentrate on the sensation of my muscles doing their job.  And I’ll get real specific.  For example, if I’m running uphill, I’ll notice which muscles are working the hardest.  I’ll focus on my calf muscles and really listen to them, noticing when they have to push and how it feels, noticing what specific motion results when I use that muscle.  Soon, instead of feeling like I’m on autopilot, it feels like I’m choosing to move my legs and contract my muscles.  I feel a greater sense of control over my run and my movement.  It feels intentional and deliberate in a good way.  I begin to pay attention to the contraction and release of each muscle as I plow forward, marveling at the motion that results when I engage these muscle groups over and over.  It doesn’t make me start to move faster, but I am curious to know whether it makes my legs stronger.  I certainly start to achieve a psychological benefit right away, but I suspect that there may be a physical benefit as well.  I’ve hypothesized that increasing my focus on the muscles that need to work to achieve the desired movements might result in more effective muscle contraction.  In other words, I think that my increased focus might make my form less sloppy and support my joints better.  Picture it kind of like lifting weights – if you’re using proper form, you’re less likely to get injured, but if you’re kind of sloppy, then your injury risk increases.  I feel like this mindfulness exercise improves my running form in some subtle undetectable way that might make me stronger and less injury-prone.  (But that’s still just a theory!)  I wonder if focusing on the feeling of my muscles contracting then releasing causes them to contract and release with more enthusiasm.  It doesn’t take long before the run begins to feel more effortless.  Instead of thinking about the minutes remaining, I’m actively aware of the details that result in my body moving, and frankly, it still hasn’t ceased to leave me slightly in awe of the process.

I think we all know and have been reminded from time to time how lucky we are to have the ability to run, and it’s easy to acknowledge the objective truth of that statement.  Running is a gift, not to be taken for granted.  Running with this mindfulness mentality, however, has tuned me in and made me appreciate on a visceral level the gift that it is.  It makes me so grateful for the good fortune to be able to lift my legs over and over and go for a run, to charge up a hill, even at my snail’s pace and witness my body responding to the request from my brain.  It’s science, it’s mindfulness, and I bet it’s why we keep coming back, whether we know it or not.

Happy long runs to you all!