run against yourself, or not

5 july

I’m running. I have been running for a while now, perhaps 20 minutes. I am getting tired, and I know it. The steps shorten, the breathing accelerates, the voice that is always pleading to stop is louder. I have been here before, so I know that it is a matter of stretching the steps further, change the rythm of the breathing and shut up the traitor. It is about fighting those parts of myself for a while, and the session will be over soon. After all, I run 5K, and in less than half an hour, so the suffering is on its last run.

Something happens.

I don’t know how, but suddenly I am running with myself, not against myself. I am still tired, more tired than a second ago. But I don’t feel tired. Suddenly, running makes sense, my steps make sense. I have no running coach, I have read no popular book on running, I barely know that my flat shoes have brought confort to my knees. For the rest I am as ignorant of what proper running is, as I am ignorant of finnish literature. But I know that I am running as I should. I am even smiling, for god’s sake! And I am fast. I can’t believe it, but I arrive to the end of the traject sooner than I expect, and as I look at the clock, indeed I have set up a personal record that, actually, I have not broken yet. 

What I describe happened few years ago. In the meantime I started practicing iaido and then kendo, two forms of japanese fencing that have give me a much better understanding of my body. I have come across, and read, quite some literature on coaching and teaching sports, even running. I refreshed the courses that I took to become a diving instructor, and I am as aware of the state of the science behind measuring training load as any person could possibly be. I am no properly formed sport trainer, or coach, but my previous abyect ignorance on the matter have been patched here and there. I even know what I do not know.

I still have no idea what happened there. 

I can describe what I experienced, probably in different ways. I remember it sharply. I know I will come back to it. But I don’t know how it happened. I do believe, though, that whatever happened is about letting go. Somehow I let go of my pain, of my thoughts, of myself! and then I could just run. I could be free to run. Letting go I became truly free. When I wield my sword, I know that leaving most of my thinking behind allows her trajectory to be closer to a clean cut. Perhaps that is what those japanese instructions mean, when they say that the sword has to become one with you. Perhaps is about not fighting your own sword anymore, but fighting with your sword.  

We need to stop fighting with ourselves.