The thing I'm noticing about long distance running (and perhaps aging ties into this as well) is that the point at which I feel warmed up seems to be getting farther and farther from the point at which I start running. This is especially unfortunate when I feel warmed up at around the three mile mark of a 3.5 mile run. Most of my runs at the gym feel unfortunate.
There is, of course, the option to continue running after that three mile mark, but running much more than three miles on a treadmill makes me hyperaware that I am on a machine in order to simulate running, that I'm paying for the privilege to fake run, that my life is overly dependent on computers and machinery to help me function, that even my most basic human connections are mediated by technology, that I don't remember the last time I had a real conversation on the telephone instead of texting or emailing the people I love the most in this world, that our capacity to connect, empathize, and love is rapidly diminishing in this digital era, and that we run the risk of losing what makes us human for the sake of entertainment, convenience, and commerce.
Running is enough work on its own, I can't have an existential crisis every time I step onto the treadmill. Five miles is my absolute limit. Beyond that, I need the outdoors and proximity to the universe to give my mind room for vast expansion.
While running on the treadmill on Monday, well before slipping into the comfortable warmed-up zone, I thought about how much I wished this were easier. My left shin and ankle felt tight, like running with a plaster cast from foot to knee, my heel hurt, and both legs felt tired and wimpy. Not doing this was a lot more appealing than doing this. After a few minutes of wallowing, however, a rather radical thought dawned on me: I don't actually wish this were easier.
I mean, yes, of course it would be quite nice to be able to run ten miles at a seven minute pace and barely break a sweat. But really, no matter where I am in my fitness and training, I'm not actually looking to do something easy. I've set a huge goal for myself because I want to do something hard. I sign up for marathons because they are much more of a challenge than 5Ks at this point in my running life. Shifting from lusting after easy, to relishing the hard gives hard a purpose beyond just tormenting me. Hard is getting me somewhere. Embrace the hard! Hard is what I want!
There is, of course, the option to continue running after that three mile mark, but running much more than three miles on a treadmill makes me hyperaware that I am on a machine in order to simulate running, that I'm paying for the privilege to fake run, that my life is overly dependent on computers and machinery to help me function, that even my most basic human connections are mediated by technology, that I don't remember the last time I had a real conversation on the telephone instead of texting or emailing the people I love the most in this world, that our capacity to connect, empathize, and love is rapidly diminishing in this digital era, and that we run the risk of losing what makes us human for the sake of entertainment, convenience, and commerce.
While running on the treadmill on Monday, well before slipping into the comfortable warmed-up zone, I thought about how much I wished this were easier. My left shin and ankle felt tight, like running with a plaster cast from foot to knee, my heel hurt, and both legs felt tired and wimpy. Not doing this was a lot more appealing than doing this. After a few minutes of wallowing, however, a rather radical thought dawned on me: I don't actually wish this were easier.
I mean, yes, of course it would be quite nice to be able to run ten miles at a seven minute pace and barely break a sweat. But really, no matter where I am in my fitness and training, I'm not actually looking to do something easy. I've set a huge goal for myself because I want to do something hard. I sign up for marathons because they are much more of a challenge than 5Ks at this point in my running life. Shifting from lusting after easy, to relishing the hard gives hard a purpose beyond just tormenting me. Hard is getting me somewhere. Embrace the hard! Hard is what I want!
This new (and unfortunately worded) mantra propelled me through the rest of the run and I finished my 4.2 miles feeling optimistic. (Or, maybe I was just finally warmed up.)
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