Relaxation

I have to say that running is a great relaxer. You may not agree, but I’ve heard and read that opinion several times and I certainly concur. That might not really make sense, considering what some people look like when they are running. Have you ever seen a marathon on tv? They, of course, only show the people in the lead, who, of course are torturing themselves, slobbering while somehow at the same time bleeding from their chapped and dried out lips, they are totally dehydrated but half of them have peed (or worse) their shorts, and they are skinny, wiry, and crazy-looking, wincing with every step but pushing themselves so hard to maintain that intense pace and probably crying. No offense—they do great things, things of which I am not capable, but even they must know they don’t make running look relaxing. Someone, let’s say an alien, who had never seen a runner would take one look at a marathon competitor and deduce that running is the most painful exercise on Earth and not worth one bit of anyone’s time or energy.

Pain isn’t just for the racers though. Do you ever see people in your town who look as if their morning jog is hell in sneakers? I hate those people. If you detest running so much, do something else. I have no sympathy for you, pal. Kudos to you for working out and all but let’s be honest, how many times can you go for a run and hate every second before you just up and quit, never to run again? All the experts know and suggest that people pick exercise that interests them, not makes them miserable. And everyone normal knows this idea is a big “duh”. However, some people, I guess, and I don’t know why, ascribe to the “no pain, no gain” school of thought. Ha!

Anyway, back to my vision of a misery-runner: I believe this person is most often a middle-aged man who usually has somewhat of a pot-belly and (hopefully) is wearing some kind of old-school thick and wide headband from the 70s' NBA era. He shuffles along the sidewalk, squinting in the sunlight like it’s giving him a migraine; his shoes are totally scuffed out in certain areas which makes his gait look even more uncomfortable and wobbly; his sweat stains droop on his cut-off sweatshirt (Bill Belichick style, especially in New England) from his armpits to his hips and cover his lower back; often he looks like he won’t make it one more step. But I’ll tell you one thing: this guy is the king of the world when he finishes his run, even if it was two miles in two hours. I would love to see one of these people at the end of a jog. I picture a cross between Jack Dawson on the bow of the great Titanic (the movie version, not real life) and Rocky after he defeats Drago in the best of the series (Rocky IV, if you don’t know); fist-pumps, smiles, and sweat galore.

However, and again, this may not be true for you or for some people you know, I feel totally at ease running. I was once running somewhere and some random guy walking by commented on how he had never seen anyone smile while running before. I thought a) that’s weird to just start talking to someone running by, b) I must actually have a big smile on for anyone to notice at all, and c) perv. This attitude of mine may be attributed to my non-racing pace, negative desire to get my heart rate above 140, happy running dog partner/distracter, and the fact that I have been an outdoorsy, athletic person for pretty much all of my 26 years so it feels weird not to be active. That’s part of it.

The other part has to do with all the daydreaming and problem solving involved. Do you ever talk to yourself? I do. All the time. In accents sometimes too (I’m pretty good at Australian). Is that weird? When I run I try not to actually talk out loud to myself, but I definitely have conversations and monologues in a voice in my head; I think it’s my voice, anyway. When Bruschi the Mutt is having a great time and I wish he had a doggy friend to have this great time with, I daydream about when and where I will be able to get his said friend and what this lady-mutt will be like. This often leads to daydreaming about getting a full-time job I want, which is taking a lot longer than it should right now, moving out West which I really want (to do, ASAP), and other random things that go along with a life that is conducive to having two dogs and running with them in the glorious, free outdoors. This sort of thinking could leave me depressed I suppose, but it actually makes me feel great. That could also be that fresh air is my magical life elixir and sitting still for even one full day just doesn’t feel right.

There are also those scientifically proven endorphin thingies I suppose.