The Zen of the Run...

Prologue: This entry concerns an experience that I’ve already shared with some friends, though I've added a few new discoveries to it. For others, some context: for most of my life, I could not run distances. A flutter in a heart valve meant that past 200 metres, I would be gasping for breath. In June 2008, I decided to test this limitation, a few hundred metres at a time. I did this gradually, running for distance, rather than speed. My various running toys - my GPS watch, Heart Rate Monitor and IPod Nano, to name a few, helped me greatly along the way. Before I experienced what I describe below, I had already completed two half marathons (21 km races), in November 2008 and January 2009.

In June 2009, I was training at the Jahanpanah Forest in New Delhi, getting in shape to take part in the Great Tibetan Marathon (I was planning to do the 21k) in July. Out on a routine Sunday long run, a strange peace descended over me, unannounced. No sooner had my breath settled into its rhythm, my hands and legs were moving on their own, at a pace so comfortable, it seemed like I could go on forever if I wanted. Everything was in harmony; the rhythm was perfect, the motion complete, the balance sublime...a state of emptiness (or fullness?) just appeared. I could only taste it, with no comprehension. It lasted nearly 5 kilometers, till I broke my run for a drink of water.

The afterglow stayed for a few hundred metres and then, my mind took over. What might have triggered what had just happened? A new playlist on my ipod? A new item of clothing? Last night's meal? What did my Heart Rate Monitor have to reveal? What was my GPS saying about my pace? And so on, went the rapid analysis, till the gossamer glow of the experience was totally shredded by reason.

It took me a while, but eventually, my mind slowed down. Then came a gentle realization. On that very morning, I had hit a wall, with no motivation to run any more. Alarmed that this had happened so close to the race in Leh, I had gone back to what had prompted me to start running in the first place - to discover something new, to experience my body and spirit more fully, by pushing myself beyond my current limits.

Somewhere along the way, especially as I began to get involved with the world of distance runners, I had lost my way and these lofty goals had been replaced by a slew of numbers – lap pace, heart rate zones and negative splits - that I still had to achieve. Each successive goal was exhilarating to reach, but without realizing it, I had slowly succeeded in killing the fun of the run.

With this realization, on that morning, I had decided not to look at any of the many running toys that usually kept pace for me. With no goals to reach, the body had set its own intuitive pace, the mind had decided to relax and the spirit had watched, content to just be.

During my run in Leh, although I did not slip into the same state again, I experienced a more dynamic version of the same fullness, during the last leg (4 kms or so), which I spent literally dancing in parts to the finish.

The Great Tibetan Marathon - a race route of picture postcards strung together

(Picture taken with a crummy 2 megapixel mobile phone camera)

Although this experience was not as "full" as the first one, it was still somehow different from my usual runs. I reflected on it later, trying to figure out the common factor between the Jahanpanah and Leh runs. Once again, it was the absence, during both runs, of any concerns for run timing, heart rate, etc.

I had run from instinct, within my own body, within myself.

I wondered - had other people experienced this harmony? What was their explanation? Was this what they called the "runner's high?" (though I was quite certain that “high" was not be best term to describe what I had felt...) Anyway, I began to look.

One of the things that I found during this search is little gem. It's available as a free pdf download at the link below.

http://www.naturalhealthyellowpages.com/health_ebooks/the_zen_of_running/zenofrunning-672gxrtekj78q2.pdf

It’s a really small book, and the words ring of the truth of experience, doubts and caveats and all. I for one felt the truth of his dance, having discovered it accidentally for myself first.

Some of you may have already read it. If not, you may want to. If it appeals to your spirit, pass it on. And if you feel like it, go for a run. Or do whatever else is your dance.

Epilogue: The zen of the run is not yet predictable…or more importantly, duplicable. The toys still help :-)