running
life on all cylinders
I hate(d) cardio, or so I say. My dear reader, your writer cannot seem to fall in love with running, and it is not for lack of trying! Admittedly, as a kid, running seemed to be an activity that was meant for the fast ones, which I most certainly was not. Forever doomed to be one of the slowest in PE class, and always among the last to complete a mile’s worth of laps around the track, it was not until college that, at my friend Flora’s insistence, I tried running (for fun).1 After Flora and I ran along the Charles River in the frigid air of Cambridge, MA, across all 364.4 smoots2 of the Massachusetts Ave bridge and back, I began to view running as a pastime that was not entirely punishing.
There is an almost romantic quality to running and the repetitive placement of one’s foot in front of the other. At the very least, I find myself romanticizing running every time I try to return to it as a form of exercise. There is a certain aesthetic to the tightened shoelaces that hug my impatient feet, the inward breath of brisk air that awakens my nostrils and cools my lungs, and the steady rhythm that comes from my feet hitting the pavement, or occasionally, something more textured, like sand or gravel. I often picture myself running as if it were some sort of cinematic performance (although I am sure in reality, to my misfortune, it looks much worse). Of course, the beginning of the run feels nothing short of cinematic. Slowly, over time, the run can begin to feel more punishing, as the tightened shoelaces start to feel suffocating, the brisk air starts to burn your nostrils and lungs, and your legs begin to feel just as battered as the ground itself. For some, shortly after or in place of this punishing sensation, there is a “runner’s high,” which I am not entirely sure I have experienced - that supposed feeling of euphoria during or after a run often coupled with a deep sense of achievement (perhaps, for me, overshadowed by my desperate attempts to slow my heartbeat and to intake every last molecule of oxygen in the air).
When it comes to making my heart race, my dear reader, there are easier ways to go about it than running. As a generally anxious person, my heart races almost daily for one reason or another. Add on top of that an ambitious attitude and a driven personality, and you’ll find that my heart often works unpaid overtime. In some ways, I feel that I have been running all my life. As I look back (and look forward), I find that, at any given moment, I am either running to or running from one thing or another. Now, when I see a person running (have you noticed one can find a runner almost anywhere at almost any time of day?), I wonder if that person, too, is running to or from something. I wonder about what keeps that person going in their day-to-day — what compels them to continue putting one foot in front of the other. I also wonder, what, if anything, would compel them to stop.
Lately, your writer has been working himself to the bone. If you are a regular reader, you’ll know that, until this week, I have stayed committed to posting a piece of writing on this Substack every Friday (being sure to announce the post the Thursday prior on my Instagram). If you are a co-worker, you’ll know that I’ve been fairly stressed at work, spending longer hours than usual in the laboratory in an attempt to complete a handful of projects before I present at a conference at the end of March and before I submit two fellowship applications in early April. If you are a close friend, you’ll know that, in addition to writing, I have set personal goals to read more and watch more movies; you’ll know that I’ve been determined to exercise at least 3-4x/week; you’ll know that I’ve been determined to cook and bake more; you’ll know that I’ve been determined to make more time for socializing with both old friends and new friends (with the hope of a hopeless romantic that I might meet someone in real life). Needless to say, I am exhausted. This past week, in particular, I was exhausted by work and failed to find time for the other things I valued and was determined to do. In my tired state, as I commuted to and from work, I saw myself in the runners I passed by on the road. What keeps me going and what compels me to continue putting one foot in front of the other? Why am I not compelled to stop?
As I considered what it would mean to stop pushing myself at work, I found myself thinking about my friend Flora. Flora had (and still has) unparalleled motivation when it comes to running, or any other life activity for that matter. I miss the days when we would exercise together. There were times when Flora would suggest we do a one-minute plank, to which I would respond, one minute!? Sure enough, Flora would complete the plank (I’m pretty sure I buckled after 45 seconds). Whenever I asked her how she did it, she would respond with the following (paraphrased):
Think about planking for 10 seconds, or even just 5 seconds. That’s not so bad. Soon enough you’ll find 10-15 seconds have passed, so you might as well keep going. Now you’re almost to 30 seconds - the halfway point! Surely, you could push yourself to do another 5-10 seconds to make it there. Now that you’re halfway, why not push another 5-10 seconds? You’ve gotten this far, you owe it to yourself to see if you can do a little more! You’ve hit 40-45 seconds - you can’t quit now! In just another 3-4 sets of five-second increments you’ll have done a minute! Five seconds is nothing! Look! In time you took doing that math, you only have five seconds left!!
And before you know it, you'll have completed a one-minute plank (thank you, Flora). You see, my dear reader, while I stared a one-minute plank directly in the eye, Flora saw a series of smaller hurdles. I loved this mentality. Ever since, it has helped me suspend anxious thoughts, doubts, and fears that would otherwise get in my way. In addition to planking, it has proved to be an effective framework for tackling work tasks. Moreover, it has been an effective framework for finding the elusive runner’s high at work - the euphoria of a productive groove where the momentum itself becomes motivation. Flora’s advice was the embodiment of inertia - that a body in motion tends to stay in motion.
I admit, my dear reader, some of my best days are the busiest. It can feel great to be running, or firing, on all cylinders at work. That being said, when it comes to pursuing ambitious work- or career-related goals, goals that often lack concrete finish lines or concrete metrics of success, the romanticization of inertia can cause me to neglect other areas of my life. In that way, Flora’s advice left me wondering, when will I know to stop?
running (or firing) on all cylinders (idiom)
def. often used to describe a machine, particularly an engine, that's operating at its max but also smoothly. Used to describe a person who seems to be operating at their maximum potential.
Will I know when to stop? Perhaps that is the hardest question of my twenties. The thing about most goals is that we don’t have to see them through; we don’t have to complete everything we’ve started, nor do I believe we should. As I start to become more aware of simmering life desires and values that deviate from my career ambitions, and the devilish combination of expectations that come from myself and others, I increasingly wonder how I will choose between persisting on my current path and when to stop.3 The last thing I want to do is to run myself to such exhaustive ends that I eventually find myself lost, wondering how I strayed so far from home, and trying to figure out at what point I was no longer running for my well-being, but for fear of losing whatever momentum I had gained.
Many have compared life to a marathon; however, I find that Barry’s Bootcamp offers a better metaphor. If you are unfamiliar with Barry’s, it is a brand of fitness centers that offers high-intensity interval training (HIIT) workouts.4 At the end of last year, my roommate kindly invited me to join her for a Barry’s workout. Allow me to set the scene. Our session was a mix of cardio and core exercise. Our room was dark, dimly lit by red lights (thus, it was called the red room), and was filled with music so loud that it almost necessitated earplugs. Our class was at capacity, with half the class starting with floor (core exercise) and the other half starting on treadmills (cardio). Our instructor was wearing a headset and was simultaneously shouting cardio AND core instructions (instructions which I could barely make out over the music). My roommate and I started on the treadmill. First, the instructor had us warm up with a walking pace and light jog for a couple of minutes. Next, the instructor had us run at a reasonably challenging pace for a minute. Last, the instructor had us run at the speed of light for thirty seconds, fast enough that it felt as though my feet were barely making contact with the treadmill and fast enough that I actively feared I would fly off the damned machine. After this near-death experience (hyperbole), the instructor had us drop our speed back to walking as a means to recover. By some miracle of God, I made it through that workout along with the rest of the class.
My intention in re-telling this experience, beyond the humor of it all, is to impress on you, my dear reader, the amazing things you can accomplish when you have people in your life to help pace you, like an instructor from Barry’s. You see, life is too variable to be a marathon. As I reflect on my past week, I realize there will be times when one needs to walk, jog, run, sprint, or recover, and it will be important to know when to do what, and to be flexible enough to change one’s pace with changing circumstances. The special people in our lives, whether it is family, friends, a therapist, or a romantic partner, can make this task easier. Our special someone(s) are the external forces that can help our inertial selves to decide when to push forward or when to pull back, and with what intensity - just like a Barry’s instructor.
Over this past week, as I sprinted at work, it was my friends, family, and therapist who reminded me why it made sense to push forward for the time being. They also reminded me to make time to recover and to find a more comfortable jogging pace when possible to return to the things that bring me joy (like writing). My dear reader, if you find yourself in an endless sprint, remember that even at a place like Barry’s Bootcamp, you’re only meant to sprint for thirty seconds at a time! Find yourself the pacers in your life and maybe you’ll happen to find a way to fall in love with running, too.
To be clear, it is not as if I never ran ever. I certainly ran to and from people (like in tag), and to and from objects (like in tennis or soccer); however, running for the sole purpose of running was foreign to me.
A “smoot” is a unit of length familiar to students and affiliates of MIT (your writer’s alma mater) and residents of Cambridge, MA. Here is a link to read more.
In this context, I take “stopping” to mean anything ranging from a slight change of expectation to a change in the path entirely.
This is by no means an advertisement for Barry’s. Rather, your writer actively dislikes HIIT workouts and prefers other forms of exercise that he finds to be more mindful.
Okieee looking up :))) hug