Running is a Superpower: A Tale of Two Voices
It’s 7am and I’m out running. The sun has yet to rise and the sidewalks are empty. Early commuters populate the roads and the familiar sounds of public transit resonate throughout the quiet of the morning. My stride is measured and consistent while my joints articulate against the hard concrete in a rhythmic pattern of balance and symmetry.
It all sounds quite peaceful, and it should be peaceful…but it’s not.
My heart rate is exploding, I’m sweating through my Hoodie and my breathing is becoming shallow and erratic. My mind rebels against its current circumstances and I observe with detached curiosity, the temper tantrum being thrown by the ever present, utterly relentless voice inside my head.
“This is a mistake, I should stop. Today should be a rest day, perhaps active recovery, that’s the responsible thing to do, go inside, or just take a break, walk for a minute, this fucking sucks, your hearts going to explode, you could die you know? Do you want a shin splint, we could run later…”
That voice; recursive, pathological and seductive, whether we realize it or not, becomes the governing authority that determines our choices and actions for the majority of our lives. Yet most of us would recoil in horror if our internal monologue was made audible for even a few brief moments to those around us. The notion that we would listen to this voice at all, let alone tolerate its council as if deferring to a trusted advisor, would seem insane.
I say the following words out-loud slowly and deliberately…
“You are not the voice inside your head, you are the one that hears it….”
A subtle distinction, but within that demarcation lies genuine freedom. Rather than flee the present moment, I pay closer attention to everything. And I summon another voice to counter the histrionic, reflexive onslaught of unconscious, uncontrolled impulse and reaction. This new voice is curious, engaged, deliberate and most of all calm. It’s words are like distilled, discrete water droplets generated by the condensation of articulated thought and deliberation. The other voice is a fire hose, untethered and uncontrolled, vomiting out liquid, haphazardly in all directions.
Chaos vs Order. Cowardice vs Bravery. Id vs Ego.
The second voice speaks.
“Why is this uncomfortable? Am I really out of breath? Can I slow my breathing down intentionally? Do my legs actually hurt? How do I know my heart rate is elevated and why is that a bad thing?”
As I pay closer attention, I realize that this constellation of raw sensory data is in fact, tolerable. I focus consciously on my breathing, inhaling deep through my nose and exhaling naturally through my mouth. I observe my elevated heart rate and give myself permission to experience it fully, without panic or judgment. I direct my attention towards the individual droplets of sweat accumulating between the fabric of my hoodie and my chest. And while I do all this, my heart rate drops, my breathing stabilizes and the feeling of impending doom evaporates.
The sensations of breathlessness and excessive perspiration in conjunction with an elevated heart rate has a name in the psychological literature; it’s called a panic attack.
It’s a curious feature of cardiorespiratory exercise that it induces an almost identical physiological experience. One of the main benefits of running is that it teaches you how to stay calm in moments of extreme, induced stress. Many runners talk blithely about “being in the zone” or getting that “runners high”. But for me, the absolute magic of running is that it unambiguously sucks. It’s basically torture. But if you learn how to tolerate that torture, how to manage it effectively, it provides you with a superpower for navigating the anxieties and chaos present within ordinary life. It’s not necessarily that running becomes easier, it’s that you no longer mind that it’s hard.
This is NOT the same thing. When agoraphobics are subjected to desensitization therapy and are gradually introduced to the process of being outside, the anxiety of being outdoors does not go away. The world does not become more safe. What actually happens is that when a person confronts their fears, they become braver. When a person does something hard, they become stronger. Antifragile. If you can consistently make deposits of bravery or strength into the daily bank of your life experience, then self esteem becomes the interest which can be reliably extracted. This act of incurring risk/pain/hardship for meaning is the essential component which defines what it means to be alive and human. If you remove risk/loss/pain from daily experience and retreat into the false promise of safety and comfort, you will discover an entirely new form of hell, one defined by fear, regret and shame. A state of permanent malaise much worse than the temporary discomfort generated by running a few miles and sweating through your hoodie.
One lesson I learned through running is that I am stronger than I thought and more resilient. And while there are countless physical/medical benefits that come from cardiovascular fitness, for me, the most important consequence of running is that I learned to develop and cultivate a new voice. One that I wouldn’t be ashamed to have broadcast to the people around me.
