“Out on the accidental frontiers of human possibility, the best athletes are produced by a perfect storm of circumstance: rare natural talents; state-of-the-art training; and a deep wash in the murk of psychology, where, perhaps most mysterious of all, ferocious ambition, discipline and capacity for self-sacrifice reside.” Mark Levine for the New York TImes
I’ve caught a glimpse of that burning, white-hot intensity where your body becomes a lung and everything inside you is a tool to propel you forward. I’m a born-runner, and by that I don’t mean that I’m particularly good at it–it’s just the one excercise where I feel at home. I think a lot of factors come into play that helped me settle on that one particular sport like Phelps’ background in the article that helped him find his way to the pool. It’s a solitary sport–I don’t do well trying to predict and rely on the actions of teammates–and I like the quiet moments of just interacting with my own head. It’s cathartic. And I think the most wonderful thing for me about running is that it pits me against myself. I’ve always felt uncomfortable in my own skin and feel that I’m only now just beginning to grow into it. My adolescence was wild and rocky plagued with self-doubt and feelings of inadequacy. There was a time I even hated myself. But running allowed me to look that demon in the face, to push the limits of what I thought I was capable of and then laugh at myself, ‘Hah–you didn’t think you could do it, did you??’ It’s a slap in the face of anyone who ever said I wasn’t good enough.
I love to run–there’s one sentence I’ve come up with that best describes the feeling: my whole body becomes a lung. I can feel my indrawn breath scraping against the bottom of my lungs, feel the oxygen being exchanged and the slow build up of lactic acid. I like to isolate certain muscles, driving my thighs forward with one stride, my arms the next. I pound my calves into the pavement, thrust my glutes forward while making sure I’m still tilted slightly backwards.
Music can be a distraction but my iPod has improved my performance and endurance. Part of the problem, aside from the pain, is that I get bored easily with only an interior monologue for company. But music sends euphoric waves through my body and lifts my legs higher. My soul responds to music, my body to running.
