Blog

It’s in the eyes

I can tell, you will always be danger

We had it tonight! Why do we always seek absolution?

Mumford & Sons

You might be asking yourself: what do lyrics from a British folk-rock band have to do with stoicism or triathlons but trust me, it will all make sense in due time or maybe it won’t, I’m only human.

Breaking Down Through

Now that I have normalized training during a global pandemic (I can’t believe I just wrote those words… thx 2020), I’m spending some time reflecting on what made training so difficult. When I was first getting into training 2 years ago, I was terrified and yet approached every day with curiosity. I knew that I was learning and that there was no point taking things “so seriously” because it was supposed to be a fun challenge that would teach me about myself.

As I’ve now completed 2* 70.3s, training has became more of a mental battle to find that place of curiosity and patience within myself which used to be the norm. I easily become frustrated now when paces don’t come as “easily” as before or when I find my body unable to relax into long runs as it once did. The more I think about it, the more I attribute it to two causes

1. Listening to music while running
2. Pressure to be fast instead of have fun

The Siren Sounds

Now I love music as much as anyone else, for proof here is my Spotify Wrapped for 2019:

Since my training has started to pick up again, I’ve indulged in listening to music while I run.

Seems harmless, right?

Sort of.

One of the things I learned by running without music was “listening” to myself and addressing whatever thoughts came up. Instead of being distracted by a catchy beat or great #sadboi lyrics, I focused on what thoughts emerged from my mind as I ran; sometimes they would stay for a second and fade like a mist and other times they might linger like a storm cloud in the summer. I also discovered a third kind of thought: the barking dog.

These barking dog thoughts are the ones that have emerged as problems as I listen to music while running. This dog hides in the shadows so when I focus on it, it slinks away with its tail between its legs…at least initially. These thoughts start as small yips and growls of “this sucks”, progressing to growls and snarls of “everything hurts”, culminating with barks and lunges of “you aren’t good enough, just stop”. When I recognize the thoughts early on, they are easy to dispel and stare down. When I listen to music though and I realize what’s happening, I am the one that slinks away having my confidence pulled out from under me.

So in short – and without all the metaphors – I have found that music lulls me into a false state of comfort which backfires the second my runs demand the respect that they are due. So for now, I think I’m going to keep running without music, stare each run in the eyes and respect them for what they are: challenging, and when done right, transcendental.

No Longer an Underdog

With the barking dogs sorted, next on my list of “how do I fall back in love with running” is: finding the fun in running (again). I know that there is a lot wrapped up in why I’m still feeling anxious while I run (thx Corona), but I think one of the main elements is that I haven’t found it to be fun. Instead of approaching each stride with curiosity and the excitement of the unknown, I compare each one to previous training sessions or race performances. Somehow simultaneously validating that I did a great workout before, but because I am not doing the exact same thing now, I am – and the effort I am doing is – worth less.

It’s hard recognizing prior accomplishments and achievements without conflating them to future performance. Simply because I did something cool and bada** in the past doesn’t mean that I will in the future – nothing is given; everything is earned. I think my struggles here also relate to the point earlier about music. Ultimately, it’s up to me to call myself out when I am focusing on the past or future and robbing myself of the present.

The present, the never ending crucible where I can really find out what I – and the world around me – is made of. Why worry about the extra 30 seconds to my pace if I can find peace on a trail in the early morning?

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I have started to feel less guilty and less shame when it comes to slowing down, breathing in the world around me and enjoying the process again but I know that I have a long way to go… maybe even a never-ending way to go.