A Runner’s Story – My Own

I put out a call a week or so ago asking for Runner’s Stories.  I’m incredibly curious about why people run.  What’s their motivation?  There are so many stories (every one is different) and because I love stories, I want to collect these!  I’ve also been thinking of my own “story”, and while I was running on some serious snow-pack on Davidson Mesa this morning, I got serious clarity of WHY I RUN.

 I spend a lot of time inside my head.  I wiggle thoughts around, I play with words, I consider, weigh, investigate, summarize, and plan.  It’s a veritable party in there; well, a party of one.  After a day or two of such activity my body has turned into stone and I’m trapped inside the mountain. I feel drawn-down, like my body is made of lead.  There’s no room inside me for openness, no space that’s not consumed by spiraling, twirling, whirling colorful thoughts and emotions that have no beginning and no end.  I’m gasping for breath, light, openness, space, peace, and quiet from the never-ending barrage of humanness that threatens to bury me alive.

 So I run.  I lace up my shoes and head into the early Colorado morning.  I run before everyone is awake, before the demands of the day are upon me.  I run to shut my brain up, to create movement that reminds my soul there IS room for light, openness, beauty and breath. 

 I run fast sometimes, so fast I feel like I’m flying.  I can’t feel the individual parts of my body anymore and all I can feel is air whooshing into my lungs in rhythm to the pounding of my feet.  Thoughts start melting away and all of a sudden I have achieved what the Zen masters peddle; freedom from thought.  My mind is clear and I feel like I’ve entered a room that is pure light.  I inhale and the vastness of the vibrant Colorado sunshine fills my abdomen with a snow-blinding brilliance.

 I run trails with the ladies on Saturday mornings.  I live for these mornings.  I adore the uneven terrain and pine trees that stand on the sidelines and cheer me on.  I nimbly jump over rocks and my feet find secure placement on rocky ground.  Running trails keeps me in the absolute here and now; there’s no room for wandering minds lest an ankle rolls or the urge to play Superman hits.  Trail running is a metaphor for my inner thoughts; some places are easy on the feet and wide enough for friends to run two and three abreast, some of the climbs are so steep there’s only space for loud wheezing breath and focus on putting one foot in front of another, and some places have downhills that allow me to lean back and experience the pleasure of absolute fitness of my body.

I’ve often called running my “moving meditation”.  It’s the place I go to get away from the heaviness of being a person living in the craziness of this planet.  It’s my escape, but it’s also the place where I feel the essence of ME much more acutely than I do most any other place or time.  I run for myself, and often, by myself.  I push my boundaries and find the vast caverns of potential between the deteriorating chinked cracks in my armor.

 I run because when I do, I am so much more than I already am.  My soul takes flights and returns to my body, content to do battle one more day. 

***Please take some time to write down YOUR story and share it.   Why do you run?  What motivates you?  What have you discovered?  Email me LaraATsaturdaymorningzenDOTcom.