Be Still.

The title here is lifted from/inspired by my friend Mark Love's blog.  He is a very talented woodworker as well as writer, and you should check him out here and his Be Still story.  Meanwhile, here is mine as inspired by Mark.  

Confession: I am far from a minimalist runner.  When I head out for a training run, I first have to don the appropriate shorts and sports bra.  I braid my hair, because if I don't, my scraggly mess gets all sweaty and sticks in my armpits.  Sometimes a headband too, so the fly-aways don't get in my eyeballs.  

I put on my shoes with orthotic-y things in one so my feet don't hurt (as much). Then the headphones, phone in the arm band holder, and fiddling with the playlists and Runkeeper app.  Finally, if I haven't lost them again, my running sunglasses because: Texas.  It's broiling out here.  

At last, ready to run.  Then when I return, I scribble down the mileage in a notebook and curse my glacier-like pace.  

Today, I read the blog I mentioned (you really should too, if you maybe skipped over my link).  I decided to try a more minimalist approach and be still. Ok, I couldn't actually BE still, since I was running, but I ventured out minus my usual accessories.  

No headphones, no mileage app, no braid even. It's cloudy, so no sunglasses required.  I decided to do my run and just be.  

I could hear my breath in sync with each footfall.  I wasn't worried about the distance - I run all the time, so I know exactly which houses to pass to do a 3 mile loop.  I didn't need to look at the time or even search the playlist for the Dixie Chicks.   

I listened to the sounds of the construction around the neighborhood, and yes, probably safer to NOT have headphones pounding out my pace, obliterating all other sounds.  I am always ready for a smackdown, should anyone accost me, but to be honest, I couldn't fight a first grader after 3 miles in. 

I could feel a misty pre-rain on my arms and face, all mixing with a sweaty humid mess we're famous for in Texas.   My ponytail was getting wet anyway, so a braid wouldn't have mattered.    

I wasn't still, but I did just be.  No fuss, a way more minimalist run than I am used to.  Time to think, or not to think at all and just hear my breathing (I'm not wheezing, am I?  Am I still alive?).

I'm not sure I can always run in silence, with no mileage tracker giving me cues in my headphones as to how far I have run.  But I realized I need to do it more often than I do.  I have often heard people say real runners don't run with music.  Music has dragged me through handfuls of half marathons and not-fun training days. I'll call myself an un-real runner if I have to.  But for some runs, I'll try to leave them at home.  I will just be still.