At the end of the day, literally, as the light fades or maybe has long since gone, when other, less high-strung people are eating dinner and sitting on couches, some people like me go run. Most days the calming evening calms me as well. I approach my invisible start lines; I take a breath, and I push my way through my thoughts and into the flow created by my own steps.
Sometimes, though, and I’m in one of those stretches, the push through gets harder, more elusive. It doesn’t feel exactly like my run has become part of my daily checklist; it is not that the run has descended into operations and logistics. It’s that the bittersweet sublimity of running itself has become harder to taste.
I still feel refreshed when I go; I still feel happy anticipation beforehand, but the drop-in, the wave-ride, seems to be less intense. My ability to transform movement into a higher cognitive plain has decreased.
I used to think I was falling out of love with running when this happens. But after 34 years on the road, I’ve started to recognize the qualities of these periods, and I can work to stop them. If you’ve ever experienced something like this, let me know. For now, I’ll share how I capture my focus once again.
Funnily enough, lots of times it’s my gear. It’s the first thing I change when I feel I’ve entered one of these periods. So my next run will be in new shoes. The return of bounce is a powerful change in any run.
Sometimes it’s my route. Change is hard, especially for people like me. I can tend to rigidity. I force myself to try something new, and that can shake loose my mental lethargy, even as it makes me uncomfortable.
Finally, sometimes I’m not concentrating enough. It’s like my will to concentrate has become flabby. It’s up to me to focus on what I will run and how I’m doing while I’m in it.
In the end, it’s up to all of us to seek sublimity, not expect it to come. We can pursue it through physical changes like gear and routes, and through mental ones like focus and intention. But only we can do it, and we have to be patient with ourselves. Run after run; night after night, we have the chance to engage with our bodies and minds. Each run is new, so you get as many chances as you’re willing to take. I hope you take that chance on yourself tonight or tomorrow or sometime this week. You might be disappointed; you might be disengaged or turn your ankle or just be uninspired. But that doesn’t mean the inspiration isn’t there; you just haven’t found it yet.
Go run.
Thanks for the post.
Personally, I love to change my route to find fresh excitement. Doing the same thing bores me… which probably says a lot about me more than anything else!
It’s why I’ve found running trails more enticing than road running in recent years.
Keep finding that flow and loving it.
"The drop-in."
Love the language here.
I know what you're talking about.
I chase that feeling as well.
Sometimes I catch it. Sometimes I don't.
Honestly, I'm glad I don't always catch the wave.
The feeling of dropping-in would lose its appeal if it always happened.