Running Reflections

Hello, dear readers!

I’m still thinking about running over here. To be fair, as a runner, I think about running quite a lot. My current pace, if my body feels up to it, when the best time is to head out. But I also think about running a lot because there are so many things about it that make wonderful metaphors for the rest of life.

Last week, I wrote about running into a headwind, how sometimes that feels really hard, but other times, it can actually feel refreshing, when the breeze isn’t too strong or the learning curve too steep. You can read that post here.

This week, I want to tell you about another running phenomenon I experience often on my particular running routes: the dead zone.

My most commonly used running route is an out and back, and I often start with that lovely head wind. The route takes me down a hill and along a bluff, where the wind blows through the canyon and gives a nice breeze at the top. But here’s something that often happens: As I round the turn and head back toward home, I envision the headwind turning into a nice tailwind, pushing me along and making the middle part of the run feel a little easier.

Instead, the wind often seems to disappear, and I feel like I’m running in a dead zone. The dead zone is what I imagine the doldrums at sea to be. The air seems to stall around me, and it feels as if nothing is moving. Everything is stagnant. I begin to overheat with the lack of air movement. Progress slows, and it seems as if I’ll never make it to the next corner when I will change direction and the slight breeze will find me again.

What’s interesting is that when I make this turn on my run, I often watch the trees. And the trees are moving! That headwind hasn’t disappeared, it’s still there. But now, instead of moving against it, I am moving with it. I do have a tailwind, I just can’t feel it because I’m inside it. And this place of moving with the wind suddenly feels like the wind has left me altogether.

Instinct would tell me to turn right around, to change direction, and find that refreshing breeze again. Sometimes, moving with the wind, being inside the wind, feels harder than moving against the wind. But the wind is still there, still pushing me along, still doing exactly what it’s supposed to do.

I just have to look up to see it.

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