I jumped in the truck and drove north, uncertain where I would run. Should I drive across the Golden Gate for a long run in the Marin Headlands? I asked God where I should go, and at the last moment I turned off before the bridge and parked at Crissy Field by the Bay. It proved a good choice – my heart rate was high, indicating that my body was tired. My legs felt heavy, and my body lacked zip.
I was aware of a need to get mentally and emotionally grounded and not let my attention wander. Climbing the gentle south slope of the bridge, I felt I had no choice – I had to win the battle for mental focus. The alternative was dispersion – “spacing out,” the hallmark of mediocrity.
When I think of concentration, I recall my former boss. A highly respected professor of engineering at Stanford University, he was intensely focused, and he had tremendous energy. I remember our first meeting. As we proceeded through the agenda, he was absolutely riveted on each point, giving it one hundred percent of his attention. When I remarked on this to the department manager, she said, “Oh yeah – and he’s like that all day.”
I don’t believe it’s possible to have meaningful experiences as an athlete without laser-like attention. God doesn’t waste His gifts on meandering minds.
While crossing the bridge, I tried to bring my mind to a pure focus, drawing my attention firmly but calmly away from the thousand distractions – the tourists, the boats on the Bay, the view over the ocean, a pretty girl, another runner, an Indian family, the mother and daughter wrapped in colorful saris, and my own restless thoughts.
In meditation recently, I’ve had experiences of a peace that comes when my mind finds a delicious inner silence. When that peace descends, an inner door opens and I sense an indescribable joy beyond. I think: if my mind could become completely still, I could saturate myself with that silence. I sense that it holds a wisdom that can heal my ignorance, a salve that can cure my blindness. And the lesson carries over to running: the more I can become still and watch the endless parade of thoughts while silently communing with God inside, the happier I am, and the better my running goes.
But I’ve realized that praying mechanically doesn’t “work.” Spontaneous love for God is all. The world’s mystical traditions are in agreement about this: prayer, meditation, breathing exercises, mantras, chanting, etc., can take us only as far as God’s outer chamber, but love alone brings us into the divine Presence itself.
Trotting along, I thought, “Well, God, I don’t know how to love You. I need Your help.” I sensed a reply – that it needed my effort, too. I said, “But there is no love but Your love! So You’ll have to give me Your love so that I can give it back to You.” And I felt such sweetness that it wasn’t hard at all to carry on in prayerful thoughts.
Wherever sweet feeling is, the mind follows eagerly. When I’m able to awaken love, I have no trouble focusing my attention. Concentration, after all, is synonymous with deep interest.
Listening to my heart, I realized that my body wanted to run easy and not too far. I kept the pace down and resolved to enjoy a quiet, reflective run. At the north end of the bridge, I popped onto the Coastal Trail, feeling a little better. My body was purring along happily, grateful to run at a pace that it could manage.
Halfway up the hill, I decided it would be foolish to press on for a full two hours. I found no joy in the thought of one of those runs where the last hour becomes a stupefying slog. No sense abusing the body. So I turned back.
On the way back, my spirit and body rewarded me for having made the right decision. I bathed in a glow of joy and love. I sensed God’s joy all around. I said, “I want to merge with Your joy and forget old George, so that You and I can give that joy to all.”
It wasn’t one of those “zone” runs that sweep you into a state where the ego melts away and you cruise in near-breathless silence, watching the world as if in a movie while the body sails along without effort. It was what I think of as an “approximation” run.
Scientists who study the athletic zone often make it out to be quite rare, the peak achievement of sports geniuses like Michael Jordan. But I don’t buy it. Anyone can have zone experiences. They come with endless variations, each one precious and unique. And merely moving “zone-ward” can be wonderful.
But there’s something beyond the zone, something that includes it, but is larger and more meaningful. The Creator of zone experiences, in His concern for us, wants us to be successful, not only on the basketball court or in the marathon. I’ve had many zone experiences, in the usual definition of the term, where my mind was intensely focused and my body rushed forward with effortless ease. I value those experiences. But they come a distant second to my experiences of God as faithful friend and guide.
