Ch-ch-ch-ch changes
Turn and face the stranger
You know that feeling when you’re out on a run and your synapses start firing all at once? It’s an incredible feeling. The closest thing I can conjure to pure bliss. We often refer to this as flow.
The key to remaining in flow is not thinking about being in flow. The moment your brain puts a label on the wonderful experience you’re having is the moment when it stops being so wonderful. Your cerebral cortex is just trying to keep order, but sometimes all you want to do is fly.
When you’re in flow – and therefore not thinking about being in flow – connections within your internal wiring system are being forged. Stuff you’ve been trying to remember. Things you’d rather forget.
Maybe this is only true for people with discursive minds like mine, but running often feels like a soothing balm that brings calm to my inner galaxy. God, I love running. Not sure where I’d be without it.
I’m big on metaphors and analogies right now, so here’s another one: I often imagine my running brain flowing like waves in an ocean. When I’ve got my shit together, they’re like the gentlest breaks on the shore. Peaceful. Serene. Orderly.
When the surf gets rough, well, there’s not much you can do but hang on for dear life and try not to let the riptide carry you out to sea. But hey, do this long enough and you’re going to get knocked on your butt by a few big swells from time to time. Happens to all of us.
So, there I was running up a literal mountain on a warm muggy New Jersey summer morning, feeling the sharp cuts of creeper vines on my legs and torso. It’s tough running up here. No frills, no thrills.
In fact, running up Mt. Cushetunk demands that you earn every single inch. It gives you nothing and asks for everything you have. Getting to the top has to be its own reward because there is no actual summit with things like “views” or a “payoff.”
The deal is you push as hard you can until the mountain pushes back and then you see who comes out on top. At one point I thought Cushetunk had me beat, but it turns out there’s still some fight in this old dog yet.
All of this was taking place within Round Valley Reservoir, where I grew up. Equal parts oasis and deathtrap, the state park is a legendarily weird slice of my childhood whose woods are said to contain ancient spirits, some of whom may be profoundly pissed about one thing or another.
The reservoir itself covers an abandoned farming village, left to be buried under the weight of progress in what was essentially a crooked kickback scheme from jump. The village never really went away though. The detritus left behind has a habit of dragging people under the water and not releasing their bodies back to the surface for years and years.
All of that is true, by the way, and so is what I’m about to tell you. As I charged up the final stretch of ravaged earth, I did a little Rocky on the steps of the Art Museum dance in a clearing by some trees. I breathed deep, exhaled, and kept a watch out for bears. It’s good for the soul, this kind of running. I believe that.
As I said on what we used to call Twitter:
That was last Thursday. By the end of the weekend I had accomplished the following things:
Ended a 30-year nicotine addiction that I had kept hidden from the entire world by coming clean and sweating out a few nights of withdrawal. There were other steps involved, but what I thought was my biggest problem simply vanished into thin air. You can do it, too. Whatever it is.
Switched from coffee to tea because my system didn’t need any more stimulation. My morning routine now involves a cup of immunity boosting lemon citrus, while my afternoon preference is for a tangerine blast of positive energy. I don’t know either guys, I’m just rolling with the flow here.
Overhauled my diet to eliminate more processed food with a special nod toward grainy carbs, salty snacks, and sugary protein bars. Immediately began feeling lighter, healthier and more spry. I’ve lost weight for the first time in 5 years and am trying to figure out how to balance my nutritional needs as an ultra runner with a more balanced approach to calorie consumption.
Oh, and I shaved off my beard after 10+ years because my family has been asking me to and it seemed like the right thing to do in order to hit refresh on this weird little experiment called life. (Confession: I miss my beard terribly.)
For a while there, I was experiencing movie-quality cathartic moments with family, friends, and total strangers at the rate of one or two every hour, which is obviously not sustainable. Fortunately, I have people who talked me through some of the more intense moments.
(Special shouts to Spencer Hall, who’s always been the realest player in the game. Also to Erik Davis for the tips on grounding techniques. And before you ask, yes I have a therapist.)
I also have enough experience with what one might call altered states of consciousness to understand A) what was happening and B) that I needed an off-ramp so I could exit the kaleidoscopic Ferris Wheel I was riding somewhat gracefully.
So, all of this has been a lot to process and my processors have been running at full capacity for two weeks now. I have no intention of shutting them back down, but I am trying to figure out what to do with all this reinvigorated energy.
One of the ways I’m channeling this stream of unfiltered consciousness is through writing. I’m not sure what that means exactly for the newsletter, but it might be time to put some Probably back in RP. It’s a great big world out there and we don’t need to be so hyper-focused on any one thing.
Don’t worry. There will still be plenty of running talk in the future. In fact, one of my big revelations from this whole experience is that I have been subconsciously training my body and mind for years to manage what I’ve been describing to friends as a kundalini-like reawakening.
(Show of hands: Anyone else ever experienced the spine of the serpent blasting through your cranium? No?)
In more earthy tones, I finally found my Why. We’ll get to all that in the coming weeks and months. We’ll finish the heart rate series soon too, maybe as a special bonus for paid subscribers.
One last thing before I go. A long time ago, someone left a comment on a piece I wrote about middle aged endurance athletes and depression, rather rudely asking what I was running from. It often takes me a while to come up with a witty retort, but I finally came up with one:
I’m not running from anything. I’m running toward myself.
This makes me weepy. Inspiring, you are.
beautiful, paul. i too am running toward myself.