At the start of a run, I nearly always have a hard time focusing my mind. But I’ve learned not to try to “force a focus” or get impatient. If I “just run,” and let my body warm up as long as it needs, my mind usually finds a focus in its own time.
The start of a run is for the body. As the body warms up, the flow of energy stimulates feelings of enthusiasm and joy. Then, after enjoying those feelings for a while, there’s an invitation to willpower and concentration. The sequence is always the same.
As I mentioned in the last chapter, I noticed this sequence with particular clarity when I ran ultramarathons. As I mentioned in the last chapter, during a 50-mile race, the first 60-90 minutes were for the body – it took that long to find a relaxed rhythm and start generating energy.
Once energy began to flow, cheerful, happy feelings naturally bubbled up. Later, as the body tired, I was challenged to focus my will. And as the challenge deepened, it was important to cultivate positive attitudes and resolve logistical problems that arose: blisters, protection from heat or cold, eating and drinking, etc.
Finally, if I rose above these obstacles, I would finish the race feeling a blissful inner stillness, uncomplicated by thoughts or feelings, my small self reduced to a fulfilling simplicity. In conversations with other ultrarunners, I found that not a few were in the sport for essentially the same reason, to experience that blissful simplicity, which was hard to find in daily life.
I’ve noticed the same sequence in the longer rhythms of my running career. At the start, the big issues were about the body: how to train, which shoes to wear, how to treat an injury, what to eat, etc.
Later, as my body got fit and I became comfortable with running longer distances, feelings came to the fore. It was a wonderful time, rich with the romance of running. I lived very much in the heart, spending endless hours feeling my inner ties with nature, with the rhythm and joy of running, and with runners I admired. Running beautiful trails in remote woods, I formd mental images of Ann Trason and other great ultramarathoners, and I would imitate Trason’s wonderful running style, while sending her my prayers and good wishes.
Later, I craved challenges of willpower. I did hard weekly speedwork with a group at the local high school track, and I signed up for more difficult races. As I passed through the five phases, I found that each offered fresh portals to inner fulfillment.
After the willpower phase, I became intrigued by the life of the mind. I learned to plan my training more carefully, and I began using a heart monitor, which was a wonderful tool for exploring the “harmony zone” (see Chapter 5).
Finally, there was a long period when my overriding concerns were spiritual, where the other tools were merged in an earnest quest for attunement with God’s love, wisdom, and joy.
It’s good to be aware of the five stages of a run, and the natural sequence of a runner’s career. It can help us make appropriate choices at each stage – staying focused on the “tools of the moment” in preparation for the next step.
