I’ve recently come to place where I must accept the difficult truth that I cannot do every training run as hard as I can. Seems like a no brainer I’m sure to some. Believe me it’s not like I haven’t read it or heard it before. Every article I’ve ever read in Trail Runner, every quote in Runner’s World, or any successful endurance athlete on YouTube will tell you: “You must make most of your mileage, easy miles…” “Keep your heart rate in an aerobic threshold, not anaerobic…” Or, one of my favorites, “You are not there to run as hard as you can in every practice. You practice so you can run as hard as you can in your races!” All this wisdom has been at my door for years, and yet … I’ve always managed to ignore it.
I wanted it to be difficult. The more difficult my training was (boxing, cycling, swimming, running … it didn’t matter), the more the discomfort would pull my focus into the present moment. My training was a ‘church-like’ experience to me. I couldn’t just ‘show up.’
When I was a kid I used to go to church because my parents would make me. It may have built a good habit and instilled faith in me, or at least a desire to search for a place to find faith. But, while I was there, going through the motions, I found very little spiritual growth.
If I just showed up, took it easy, and allowed for a more relaxed effort, my training was like going to church when I was a boy: just counting the minutes and allowing my mind to wander. However, when I ran every training run like it was my last … well … it was like my full attention in church was wholly on what the priest was saying. Better yet, it was as if I was saying the words myself.
I was over at my very good friend’s house today (I’ll call her Donna), who is a practicing Zen Buddhist, and she began telling me about her meditation experience. How it would help her with her focus and concentration (ex. helping her to remember to get the mail every day). I agreed with her and explained how I found my ‘meditation experience’ through my running. She looked at me curiously. We have had some disagreement around this for years, and, although she agrees with the discipline of physical training being helpful in many physical/mental emotional areas, we still butt heads.
Donna – The running just seems to be so strenuous to me.
Me – It has to be! That’s what keeps my focus. It’s no different than walking meditation –
Donna – Yes, it is!
Me – How?
Donna – In walking meditation you aren’t afraid you’re going to fall off a cliff!
Me – Depends on where you walk.
She smiles at me. I’m uncomfortable, and she knows it.
Donna – Your running is helping you to stay present sure, but at some point, wouldn’t it seem that it is really more vigilance than mindfulness?
Me – Vigilance is a form of mindfulness.
Can’t believe I just said that. I’m defensive and I can feel it come through in my tone.
Donna – Alright, your running is keeping you present, sure, but only as long as you are running, right?
She looks at me to agree. I just shake my head … because she’s right.
Donna – That’s the vigilance, keeping mindful of your danger and difficulties. Mindfulness is being aware of everything that’s going on in the moment, being accepting of your thoughts and feelings, even if they don’t feel great –
Me, grudgingly – Yeah, I know.
I cut her off. Yes, she’s telling me something I know, but obviously need to hear from someone else. She tries to put me at ease at bit.
Donna – Don’t get me wrong, you are being very present in your training and its good practice, but it’s your external circumstances that are dictating you being in the present moment, not you.
She’s right of course. Just like all those articles and those people whom I knew I wasn’t only judging harshly, but incorrectly. I was only present when the external stimulation was there, and I was finding it difficult to hold that kind of mindfulness in my every-day activities. I don’t have to like it, but I do have to change.
Trying to find mindfulness in everything I do is a real challenge for me. Especially when my mind wanders because the present situation isn’t all that stimulating. I guess I am realizing that while my running has been a practice that provided a focal point for me in the present moment, the real practice needs to be staying mindful even when there is no cliff in sight (like while standing in line at the grocery store, or driving my kids to school).
I leave my visit with Donna in good spirits. I tell her I’m going to try to get a good long run that requires little of my attention, but I will try to give my full attention regardless. She smiles and says, “Sounds like a difficult form of meditation.”
Before my visit with Donna I had planned to get a two hour blast up a section of Vermont’s Long Trail. Although that may be much more physically demanding on me, I allowed a bit of the truth to seep in from this afternoon, and instead head for a long, hilly stretch of dirt road. While still two hours, the relative ease of this run doesn’t make the ‘mindfulness’ pill go down any sweeter. I do believe over time, with practice and letting go, I will be able to find my church in everything that I do.
