Runner Mind

In the mid-1940s rocket and jet engine technology was brand new and aviators and aircraft designers were pushing the limits of speed and altitude, the main speed goal was to travel faster than the speed of sound.  The best test pilots in the country flew across the New Mexico skies trying to breach that sound barrier, they pushed the throttle forward and accelerated to higher and higher speeds that pushed their aircraft through air that was increasingly turbulent.  Many men got right up to the edge of that barrier and only to find their aircraft coming apart on them, or they lost control and ended up plowing a furrow across a dry lakebed.  The man who finally did it for the first time was named Chuck Yeager, an already accomplished fighter and test pilot who became a legend with his transonic flight, and through many other achievements afterward.  What's remarkable to me is that the day he broke the sound barrier and set a new speed record he reported a smooth flight.  There was the usual turbulence as he sped up to close to the speed of sound, but as he got right up to it, things smoothed right out.  It was what he was expecting at all, and seems sort of anticlimactic today.  His flight had rough patches, but at the moment he was expecting the most danger things suddenly went smoothly.  

I'm a distance runner, which means that over the years I've trained my body to be comfortable with running distances of more than 4 miles.  I don't know that I'd say that I'm good at it, but I know that if you challenge me to a 50 yard dash I'll probably lose, but a 10K I can power through and do OK.  A 5K (about 3 miles) is tougher for me, this distance is more about speed than persistence and when I'm 2-3 miles in I'm panting away and thinking that I'll never make it to 10 miles or whatever the distance is today.  But then suddenly after mile 3, things smooth out, my breathing evens out, I don't pant anymore, my legs have found they're stride, my gait is going well, and I don't feel like I'm sweating buckets anymore.  This becomes the middle part of a run for me, and it's the best part because I feel like I could do it forever.  In this stage of the run my body moves exactly how it should and it has become the vehicle for my awareness.  My mind is just being carried by my body and now acts as an almost passive observer to what's happening around it.  At this point I've entered the Runner Mind.  

If you ask, most distance runners won't be able to tell you what they think about while they run.  It takes you 3 hours to run 14.7 miles, they must be thinking of something.  They are, but in a way they're not, at least they're not thinking of anything that they can explain rationally later on.  While you're running little bits of information trickle from your senses into your mind and send you on strange journey's into memory.  The sound of a wind chime brings forward the image of a crystal resonating in time with nature, which brings to mind the image of beautiful lights dancing in the night sky, stars which in the time of Galileo were believed to be held on crystal spheres in the heavens that slid past each other creating beautiful tranquil music that filled the space around the Earth.  That music must've been very much like the wind chime I just ran past, or why else would I be thinking about them?  And what do 500 year old and outdated theories of astronomy have to do with making it up Heartbreak Hill?  

Nothing, I'm in the Runner Mind and the purpose of that is to distract your rational mind from the irrational activity that you're pushing your body into doing.  I mean really, for what rational reason are your running 14.7 miles today?  Oh right, so in two weeks it'll be easier to 16 miles.  Yeah, that makes sense.  

Its not always crystal spheres that I'm thinking of, but it's all random stream of consciousness type stuff.  If I could get it all on paper it would be as loosely connected as pages on the Wikipedia, but somehow it's interesting to me, and that's the point.