Can Running Without Music Increase Productivity?

• 3 • Live Well, Running Thoughts

turndown

This winter and spring, I didn’t do much regular blog posting.  I lost a lot of readers, I was running less, and I began to feel like I’d said everything I really wanted to say about running.  I missed the creative outlet, and writing, but I felt like I’d lost my muse and perhaps it was time to move on.

Then I went for a long run, by myself, with no music.

My mind wandered.  I thought about running.  I thought about our upcoming vacation, and meal planning, and packing.  I thought about the scenery.  I thought about EVERYTHING.  Then I thought about nothing but the view for a while.  Then I continued to process things I’d been thinking about half an hour earlier.

And I realized that this was the first time in months that I’d had an hour and half of uninterrupted time to think.  I wasn’t bored, because I was running, I wasn’t distracted by the need to accomplish something, like I would have been at home, because my only job was to put one foot in front of the other.

Blog posts were practically writing themselves.  Things to pack were flitting in and out of my mind and organizing themselves for later.

I was thinking clearly and freely and without obligation to think, or pressure to think, and it was beautiful.

When I run with music, I zone out, I listen to the lyrics, I fantasize about jet-setting and dancing on tables in clubs in Monaco while Kanye West blares in the background… my thoughts and daydreams aren’t completely void, but they’re heavily influenced, and they’re few and far between.

Sometimes the music is nice.  Sometimes you want to escape your thoughts.  Sometimes the cheerful sound of the Beatles helps me relax and make it through those extra miles, and keeps the road interesting.

But shutting it off and having uninterrupted time to think can be a precious gift.  I don’t fiddle with the volume, or stop to change playlists or skip songs.  I don’t feel annoyed because the beat of the song is poorly matched to the beat of my stride, or there’s a disconnect between my mood and the lyrics, or the noise is destroying the peacefulness of the morning, or my ability to concentrate on making it up that next hill without a break.

A long run in the early morning was the perfect time for me to run in silence.  It was amazing what that extended amount of time to think could accomplish.  If I’d been on a shorter run, my thoughts wouldn’t have had time to circle back to earlier themes and make additional progress.  At one point, I actually stopped and typed some key words into the notepad on my phone.  Just a few words was enough to trigger my memory later of all the things I’d worked out in my head on that run… and the results have been flowing into my blog (and our family life) over the past week.  Amazing.

If I’d tried to sit in the hammock and think, I would have spent the entire time thinking about what I SHOULD be doing inside, instead.  Since I believe that running is one of the things I should absolutely be doing, I felt peaceful taking that time, by myself, alone with my thoughts on that run.  I can’t think of another time and place where I would be able to think more freely, guilt free, and clearly.

Take some time to unplug.

It’s worth it.

Quick! Look Like A Runner!

• 6 • Running Thoughts

Last week I got up at 5 a.m. and went for an 8 mile run, during which I felt the urge to look more like a runner every time I saw other people on the road.

Yeah.

At this time last year, 8 miles was further than I’d ever run before. At this time two years ago, I hadn’t even started the Couch to 5k Program, and I’d never even run a mile without stopping.

So I’ve made some progress. You would think, as I pranced along at my happy jogging pace of 10:33 minutes per mile, that I would feel pretty legitimate given where I’ve come from, and how recently.

And yet… as I ran down the beautiful, scenic road, the one with all the cyclists I’m so in love with, I couldn’t help but tense slightly when I heard the whirring noise of a cyclist, or saw another runner from a distance.

“QUICK!” I thought, “LOOK LIKE A RUNNER!”

Wait… I AM running.  How do I look more like a runner when I’m already running?

Why is my first thought “look like a runner”?

Can they tell from their bikes, whooshing by, or as they run by me from the other direction, that I’m jogging at this steady, but slow, pace?

Do I care that I’m running at this pace? No, I don’t care, I publish it all over twitter and my blog, I’m THRILLED to be out here running at this pace.

Why do I have this urge to scream at them that I’m 4 miles away from my house? They’re not judging me!

It’s 5:40 in the morning and I’m outside exercising… shouldn’t that be enough for me to feel adequate to share road space with these athletes, who are not even judging me?

Two years of running and three completed half marathons, and I feel like a fraud when I see other people on the road when I’m out for an 8 mile run at ass-o-clock in the morning.

That’s either really sad, or really funny… I’m going with the latter.

Sometimes when you work hard at something you love, you improve enough so that you start to enter the circle of people who love doing that thing, and are really good at it.  Suddenly, I’m out before 6 a.m. and I’m the little fish in the big pond, and it can be intimidating.

When I line up at a half marathon, I know that most of those people will finish before me, and I can forget that a year ago I was worried I would never even BE one of those people at the start.

I may never shake that “QUICK! LOOK LIKE A RUNNER!” feeling I have when I encounter someone while I’m out for a run.  Maybe that’s ok… because it reminds me how far I’ve come.

QUICK!  KEEP DOING WHAT YOU’RE DOING!

Ok.

I can do that.

Confession: I’m in Love With a Bunch of Bikers

• 5 • Running Thoughts

My husband, Greg, is a sub 1:30 half marathoner and 3:17 marathoner, and that takes some training mileage to accomplish.  As a result, he’s my ultimate guide for amazingly scenic running routes in our area.  I can ask him for any distance from 4 – 12 miles and he rattles off suggestions that take me past rivers, lakes, and gorgeous foliage.  I can give him elevation preferences, loop vs. out and back requests, and discuss traffic patterns based on when I’m running.  He pretty much runs this town.  And any town within a 15 mile radius.

Anyway – he recently shared a running route he discovered through one of our neighbors, who is an avid cyclist.  It includes a winding road that’s evidently renowned in the cycling circles as a destination ride, one so beautiful, quiet and scenic that cyclists actively seek it out.

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This is how I discovered that I am in love with a bunch of bikers.

I’m running along this peaceful, windy road before 6 a.m.  The sky is starting to brighten, but it’s still muted, and you can feel the earliness in the air.  Trees on either side occasionally give way to views of the Charles River.  There’s not a car on the road, and only birds are awake enough to disturb the silence.

And then I hear a whirring noise, and from behind me on the other side of the road a large group of male cyclists whoosh by, leaned over their bikes, a beautiful show of muscular legs and spandex.  The way they lean forward, showcasing their strong arms, their rapidly pedaling legs, the silent camaraderie of the group… it’s all so appealing.

In that moment, I go from a feeling of peaceful solitude to a feeling of joyful observation.

They have brightened my world without intruding into my seclusion.   I am still alone, running slowly on the other side, at a pace so different we don’t even greet one another.

I just observe… and in those brief moments before they round the corner, out of sight, it feels like the world is perfect.

I am surrounded by beauty and stillness, witness to a group of people motivated enough to get out of bed before 5 and seek each other’s companionship for some scenic miles.  

I am in one of the most beautiful towns in New England, one of the most beautiful areas in the world, at a time when no cars are on the road, the sky is just getting brighter, and cyclist after cyclist is whooshing by making me feel like the world is comprised only of athletic, motivated men… which reminds me that my own is home getting ready to feed our beautiful boys breakfast so I can have these gorgeous miles.

If I ever complain that my husband spends so much time running, I must remember how much I love having a gorgeous, athletic husband who, like these cyclists, gets up early to exercise with friends and never stays out late to drink with them.  (And I should also remember the sacrifices he makes for MY running!)

Cyclists… I love you.  You make the world feel perfect.

Or maybe you just remind me that sometimes mine is 🙂

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Do you have a place and time where the world feels perfect?

Pre-Half Marathon Thoughts – To feel proud, you have to train hard

• 2 • 13.1 Training, Running Thoughts

Tomorrow, I run.

I should be ecstatic… my third half marathon!  One year ago, I was struggling to run a 10k for the first time.

When I ran my first half marathon, I was happy just to be there, excited just to finish.  When I ran my second, I had great company the whole way, and no expectation of improving much from my first since it’d been less than two months of running in between.  It was glorious.  I felt legitimate, I improved by 10 minutes, I was thrilled.

Now, I run my third… feeling less prepared than I did for either of the first two.  Spring came late, I only did four long runs in preparation, and only 3 that were over 10 miles.

There are signs that I’m a stronger runner than I was in the fall – I did two races on hilly courses pushing the double jogger and came in at under 30 minutes for each one.  When I ran a 5k with NO stroller two weeks before my first half marathon, I barely made it in under 30 on a flat course.

I’m stronger, right?  I’m faster, right?  I still have 13.1 in me… and as fast as in the fall, right?

In a way, I don’t deserve to have any expectation of improvement, since I didn’t work hard this spring to improve.

Yet… I’ve been running 7 months longer.  I have those first two half marathons in my legs and in my brain, propelling me forward, changing my mitochondria (you’ll have to google that).

Hope is a four letter word, all right.

What do I hope for?  To finish?  To finish not that much slower?  To finish faster?  To get that third necklace, to STILL be here?

I’m disappointed, before I start, because I’m not sure that’s enough anymore.

I’m no longer happy just to be here.  I want to be here, and be excited to see what my hard training will earn me.  I want to have done that hard training so I can be proud of it.

I think I’ve learned a lesson before I even get on the course tomorrow – I love the half marathon because it makes me feel proud of myself.  And I feel proud when I train adequately, make sacrifices to get my runs in, complete my miles, and then get to show off to myself on race day.

Even if I nail it tomorrow, it’ll be only as much pride as I can feel in myself about 2 hours and 10-30 minutes of hard running.  My 3 year old is proud just putting his underwear on the right way… that’s because it’s hard for him and he worked at it.

When I completed my first half marathon, my pride was not just in those hours… it was in everything I did to get to the starting line.

Tomorrow morning I will pull on my running clothes, I will show up to the start line, and I will run my heart out.  I will have to be content with keeping myself in enough running shape that I can make it across that finish in under 2:30 (and I will, oh… I will).  And hopefully, I will give myself a little credit for tooling around town pushing 70 pounds of kid and stroller, squeezing in runs when I can, and using my precious baby sitting hours for the four long runs I did manage before I needed to taper.

But inside I know that I’m disappointed by my mediocre preparation.  I want to actually train.  I’m ready to do interval workouts.  Hill repeats.  Better long runs.  More miles.

I want to feel how good, how sweet, how satisfying it is to cross a finish line beaming because no matter how many freaking people are in front, I EARNED my spot, with sweat, exhaustion and dedication.  I want that feeling back, and I’m going to chase it.

Here I come.