Running in Circles

I was at my sister's house today. Her neighborhood isn't an ideal for running. It's a small neighborhood and it dumps out onto a two-lane country road that locals drive about 80 on. But a rain storm was moving in, which meant I didn't want to take the time to drive somewhere to run.

So I did the only thing I could: I started running in circles. Or, to be more precise, I started running in a sort of crazy y-pattern that got me to one mile per lap. And I ran that path over and over and over again.

I ran up the surprisingly steep little hill right in front of her house. I ran through the straightaway that blasted me with the storm winds that were coming in. I ran by the guy cutting his lawn and endured the sneezing attack that came with each inhale as I passed. I ran past the dogs that were sure I was up to no good. And I ran around the stink of the jenky garbage truck as it slowly made its rounds.

And I did that all over, and over, and over again.

But as the laps wore on, all of that began to fade away and I hit that comfortable zone that I love so much. It didn't matter that I was just running in circles, I still got what I wanted -- I got in eight miles from a training perspective and I hit the zone. 

That zone is one of the primary reasons that I love running. Why? I'd be lying if I didn't say it's an escape. But it's also more than that, it's an access point to the present moment. Thinking shuts off, worrying ceases, evaluating and judging cease, heck, even enjoyment ceases -- you're just there. Of course it only lasts as long as the run lasts (if that long), and then all of the thinking and other crap come bounding back.

It reminds me of one of my favorite movies. In I Heart Huckabees they find the same sort of thing except that they're getting to that place by whacking themselves in the face with a big rubber ball.





Unfortunately it's futile -- as Caterine Vauban points out, even with "the ball thing" you're inevitably drawn back into human drama and suffering. So you get to hang out in that place of a bit, but it doesn't prevent the whole thing from starting over again.

We could drag meditation in here too, because the place you're shooting for there is basically the same. And, just like the running zone and just like the ball thing, you can't hold onto the peaceful place you reach in meditation.

So then what's the point of any of it? Is it just escape? I don't think so. I think by finding that place, no matter how you find it, you gain perspective in your day-to-day life simply knowing that that's there, knowing what it feels like, and knowing that thoughts and worries don't last. Being caught in feeling like thoughts are real and tangible and you and your thoughts are one gives them far more power to overwhelm you. Knowing that they're ephemeral and can disappear completely gives you more power to look through them.

Or so I'd like to believe. Sometimes that's easier than other times. My life, like the run at my sister's, seems to take place in a continuous loop -- peace and simplicity lead the way to worry and complication, which push me towards happiness on the way to disappointment and discontentment, which, of course, leads me right back to the beginning.

What's great about it all is that when you know you're running in a circle you at least have a pretty good idea what's around the corner -- like it or not.


--