Quieting the Lion

I have a hard time being happy without running.    

 

That doesn't make sense to a lot of people.  Most of the time, when I talk to people about running,    they have a hard time disassociating it from gym class or sports where you had to run laps if you made a mistake.  To many, running  is punishment and to do so voluntarily is  bewildering.

I've got a noise in my head that that I refer to as “the roar”.   It’s the thousand things that I need to do, people I have made promises to,  snippets of commercials that won’t go away,   regrets, decisions, regrets about decisions,  and a whole myriad of  noise.    Imagine a noisy bar where there are twenty different people trying to get your attention  and you’re trying to read something.  That’s my headspace a lot of the time.  My mind is often flitting about like a humming bird on amphetamines, bouncing from sound byte to snapshot, looking for something, anything.    It doesn't take long before I start becoming antsy.  Then I become irritable.  Then grouchy.  Then I get thrown out of the house with the instructions to not come back until I’m ready to behave.

I don’t like who I am when the roar in my head is at full volume.

Running is the mute button.

When the roar becomes deafening, I can lace up my shoes and blow out the door like a wild man.   Soon the rhythmic footfalls and steady breaths are all I can hear.   The world of fast food, rock stars, phone calls, and new cars gets washed away in a moment and I’m able to focus on the things that matter.   Sometimes I focus on the basics of survival like body temperature and food. Sometimes I focus on running mechanics and technique.   Sometimes, I think about the important things like my spiritual health, my marriage or my father’s failing health.

And sometimes, I just let it all go and think about nothing.  Clear, empty, quiet.      The roar is gone for a bit and I can smile.