When thoughts run wild

I've had people ask what I think about when I run. You can imagine just how many thoughts run across a person's mind during a 30+ minute time span with nothing but the wind to keep him or her company. I don't know about other runners out there, but I don't have an answer to this question.

Just a few hours ago, I ran about four miles on my own, and I can't recall a single thought that past through my mind. As far as I know, my mind was a complete blank. In fact, I ran with an iPod, and the only song I remember is the very first one that played. I know it was a nice run in nice, cool weather, and I can remember most of the sights along the route. I certainly remember an unwelcome tag-along that sniffed at my heals and caused me to run into a tree branch that knocked the earphones out of my ears. And I remember the dead armadillo on the side of the road (and the smell). But what did I think about?

This isn't always the case. Sometimes I go for a run in order to clear my mind, sift through thoughts and anxiety after a stressful day, play over a conversation I had or plan to have. But those are runs for the specific purpose of thinking. Like most runners, when I head out the door and start my watch, I'm running for the purpose of training for a race or staying in shape. By the time I stop my watch and reach for a bottle of water, whatever ran through my head moments before is long gone. Funny.

A Runner's Story #1: A Friendship Planted

Most friendships begin with, "Hi, I'm (insert name)." (Extend a hand for greeting purposes.) Or maybe two people start a conversation about something they know they have in common. From there, more conversations arise. Awkward silences become infrequent. And BOOM. Friendship.

This one took a different route. The White Gazelle (not yet known by that name) sat on the cold concrete in the dark, her back to an equally cold concrete bench. I was sitting on the bench, not two feet away. We waited silently; our coach hadn't emerged from his office yet, and our teammates hadn't arrived (neither had the sun).

She slowly scrunched her knees up underneath her hoodie. She pulled up the hood, tightened the draw-string, and drew in her arms, forming a defenseless ball of person. How could I resist? A little nudge never hurt anyone. Like Humpty Dumpty, she tipped over, slowly. In the silence that surrounded us, without a word (but perhaps with a sigh and a bit of a grunt), The White Gazelle's arms emerged from their respective armholes. With not too much of a struggle, she regained her balance, and we returned to the silent cold, waiting.

Learning to just be friends

Running and I are at an awkward phase of our relationship. I still love to run and want to continue to run competitively, but I no longer share the obligations of my former teammates and collegiate runners around the world. I can drink soda, play other sports, and even skip a workout without the obligation to feel guilty. Do I still feel guilty anyway?...Of course. That is the runner within. But the pressure is off.

Here's an odd something to ponder: This past summer I struggled to motivate myself to workout everyday, believing I would enter a new season with my team. I am now more motivated to workout, not knowing where I am headed (competitively).

I like to keep it brief sometimes. Peace. And volleyball.