Sunday Morning Run
I wake up to see the clock next to me. It's 7 AM on a Sunday morning-time for the Sunday morning run. After preparing, I make my way to the designated meeting spot on the university campus. My friend has already arrived and is stretching his legs. We greet each other and begin our warm-up walk along the usual path. It’s a chilly morning with a bit of fog in the air- perfect for running.
As we stroll calmly, allowing our bodies to warm up, the moment to commence our run approaches. Suddenly, a lot of thoughts come to my mind. I think of all the previous runs I’ve had and if I still have the stamina & vigor to perform today. I wonder whether I have gotten enough sleep, whether I have recovered from my previous workouts, whether I ate healthy last night. These concerns undoubtedly stem from the fear within my heart which questions if I will be able to run a good distance today. I aspire to run further than I had last Sunday, but I am anxious.
My body gets partially frozen, I just need some time to calm myself down. Before I say anything, my friend declares ‘Let’s go’ and starts jogging. Left with no alternative, I compel my body to start moving. The feeling is not comfortable but there is no turning back now. I try to get my breathing in order so that I optimize for endurance. We tread on.
The question of whether I can break my previous record is repeatedly playing in my head. The question of whether I can run farther than my friend is also playing. He always runs farther than me despite being older than me. When asked if his stamina is so good because he has a wife, he responds ‘I wish’. I don’t pry further. As we continue running, we pass by a lake. The fog above the water makes the lake look even more beautiful. So is the path we run on. It’s a narrow road in the middle of the campus with tall trees on both sides which cover over the road. I soak in the beauty of the moment and am grateful to be alive and in this moment. After a few moments of bliss, the demons knock on the door again and we start fighting.
The next phase includes going uphill for a while which is not easy. There is more pressure on the legs. I pay attention to my legs, which muscles I am using - trying to balance between muscles that are more and less tired. As we continue going up, small amounts of pain start building up slowly. In the distance, I can see where the incline would start flattening. We tread on.
Eventually the incline is over, but the fatigue and pain that were caused because of it remain. I have to get used to this now. I am closing in on my previous best. There are thoughts in my head shouting 'as long as I go slightly more than my previous best, it is still a win for today.' These make me weak. A part of me knows that these thoughts won't push me to my limits, but it's difficult to stop them. We continue running. Eventually I do cross my previous best. There is a wave of relief and confidence that there is some progress. But I am getting tired now, and soon enough I will start walking.
As much as I dread it, the moment finally comes. I stop running. Not knowing how to feel about this, I distract myself by looking around. The sun has started to break through the clouds now and is penetrating through the leaves. We are in the part of the campus now where the lecture halls are. Red brick buildings which have stood there for over a century are illuminated by the sunlight. The same places where I used to hang out leisurely have now become a battleground.
I direct my attention inwards, towards my breath. The goal in this moment is to recover my stamina quickly. My friend says, 'Whenever you are ready.' The decision to begin again is on me now. I don't want to slow my friend down, nor do I want to be left behind. Without thinking about it, my legs start moving. My friend follows on.
I know I will get tired a lot quicker this time, but I am ready. In fact, this is the moment that I look forward to the most. I think of all the times before when I had tried running. I used to give up the moment I felt tired. I never pushed myself that much because I didn't like being uncomfortable this way. Maybe I did it with other aspects of life as well.
What makes running so interesting is that it is a repetitive action that is inherently uncomfortable and painful. Plus there is inherently no reason to do it. Sure, one might have reasons to run like doing it for fitness or preparing for a marathon. But we as humans haven't evolved to do any of these things. The reason I point this out is that when running, you can stop anytime. There is no reason to take the next step. There is no reason to keep going.
So why would you do something painful for an extended period of time? For me, the answer is I like reaching the point where I cannot run anymore. The point where I feel like giving up. At this point, I am not sure whether my physical body is at its limit or my mind is at its limit. The pain is such that I can feel my entire body as being myself. And I feel like I am testing my limits as a human. I don't know when I'll stop running. But I feel like I should keep on running. Something inside me just says 'Don't Stop.'
Finally, after we keep running, we eventually reach the stadium. This is the place that's open in the morning, so this is the place where we have our water break. It's empty right now, besides a few people going up and down the stadium. For a moment I close my eyes and imagine the stadium to be full. I imagine everyone cheering for me - the effort that I have put into the run, applauding my endurance through the mental and physical turmoil, congratulating me for finishing it. Yet when I open my eyes, I don't see anyone witnessing my battles or victories. All I see is other people working as hard to push themselves. Frankly, it's not too bad being here.
The final stage is usually a short sprint to the finish. We race each other to a seating area around a pond where we sit and talk about our lives. As we reach there, there is a sense of relief. I like to remove my sweat-filled t-shirt and feel the fresh air against my skin. My friend fist bumps me and says 'Good run.' I just smile back at him. The run is over, the day has just begun.
