Running as a Spiritual Practice (AZ)

In eighth grade, I started running X-Country.   I think I initially joined because, like many 13-year olds, several older classmen that I most admired ran X-Country.  They exuded joy, pride, and enthusiasm; I wanted those things.  I imagined that I too would have boastful tales of how many miles I ran that week, and would be able to commiserate over how many hills or flights of stairs I tackled that day.  In short, I was young, and wanted to have my own experiences and stories.

So from late August through early December, I ran roughly 20 - 30 miles a week, skipping Sundays.  Here are a few things that I learned through this practice:

1)      It always helps to have a “restart” button to any day.  I loved that no matter how badly my day was going – no matter the grade in Math or French – I was able to start again with X-Country in the afternoon, and there, try to accomplish something.  I discovered that a day’s fate is never sealed.

2)      It isn’t about beating the competition; it is about doing your best.  Because people have different bodies and differing levels of running experience, it quickly seems impractical to simply compare runner to runner.  But every runner knows what it means to chase their PB or BT – their “personal best” or “best time.”  That is the kind of challenge I want to face every day.

3)      Only rarely do we reach our maximum potential.  Sometimes, I would find myself making excuses, or holding back.  It is easy to think that “Well, I will push it on the straight away,” or “I am so tired today.”  During my final race in eighth grade, I really wanted to do my best, so I decided to set my pace to another runner – Elaine – who was a stronger runner than I was.  I stayed with her for the first third of the race, until her contact fell out and she had to stop.  She encouraged me on, into the hills, but I felt demoralized.  How could I do my best without Elaine?  I ended up walking off and on through those hills until I recognized that I was the one running, that I had been keeping up with Elaine, and that I still felt strong.  I pushed it in for my season’s PB.  When I hear such thoughts now, and at other times of the day, I am better able to recognize that I likely have capabilities that I am not allowing myself to tap into. 

4)      It helps to have a place where everyone knows your name.  During X-Country practice, I got to share of myself and hear others’ stories in return.  We would talk – even sing – as we ran, which helped build up our lung capacity, but which also built a spirit of community.  Because we were runners, we knew what it meant to feel empowered and to respect our bodies.  I would turn to these wise young women for advice, support and commiseration.  With them, I always knew I would be welcome.

5)      I don’t run; I am a runner.  Many people can run, but not all of them will love it.  For not all of them will it become part of their identity.  I run because it is who I am.  I run because when I run I feel incredibly myself – honest and aware of where I am, and how I am living my life.  I am forced to acknowledge any anxiety I bring, or anger, or fear, or hurt.  I run to discover, and to know myself more deeply.  I run to meditate and reach that state where I am simply being and not processing.  Through running I discover a sense of easy companionship with myself.

I identify running as a spiritual practice for me, because it helps me become more grounded, more aware, and less self-focused.  I am grateful for all the places I have run, for the people I have run with, and for my ability to return to this life-affirming practice.   I hope that your practice – whatever it may be – also provides valuable life lessons and that it becomes a meaningful part of your identity. 

- Anastassia