Running is a Brain Thing

I ran 5 miles yesterday. It was the first time in a long time--since high school. I graduated 7 years ago.

Often I find my brain is a problem. I'm a little Monkish.

When I run I like to finish any distance on a solid number (9:00, 45:00, 45:30, 45:45). I use solid as an adjective referring to the inner strength of the number--the quality of it's soul, if you will. I like the seconds to progress in increments of 5. I especially prefer a number often rounded to on a clock (00:15, 00:30, 00:45). Although I get confused, noting the mileage in clock talk as I run. For instance, for a distance that reads 2.45, I instinctively believe I'm 3/4 of the way done with the 3rd mile, when in fact, I am not yet quite to the half way mark. I do this with money. If something costs $5.50, I believe that it costs nearly $6. As 5:50 on a clock is nearly 6:00 (And when typing I type h for 4 and vice versa).

Nothing delights me more than to finish a run (let's say it is a 3 mile run) on a solid number (27:00 minutes) which corresponds with all the other data displayed by the treadmill (Time: 27:00 minutes, Distance 3:00 miles, Calories: 300)--especially when the minutes per one mile calculate to a solid number likewise (9:00/mile), and if that number is less than 10.

While I'm calculating the percentage of the run that I've finished, and the percentage of each mile that I have left to go, while converting percentages to fractions, and the opposite, I am also now managing my thoughts. If I allow only happy thoughts to enter my mind as I run, then the run is quite successful, and the math aligns. The result is pleasing. If I do not--I am doomed.

This is especially difficult running on a treadmill in a public area where the TV's find themselves on preset stations. If I am running to a sports station, it does not serve as a proper distraction for me. If I am running to an infomercial, it is a fate worse than death. The hollow repetition grates the mind as repetitive thoughts are the number one cause of boredom, and the first sign of insanity. "Just shoot me now" is often one that places itself in my mind, if I have to hear about the magic melon in the south of France as Cindy Crawford saves the world. Although I prefer the super model and the game to trashy TV such as rich kids swear when they steal each others' soul mates (Jersey Shore) or scary men commit crimes for crazy reasons (Criminal Minds). I do not perform well panicked or put off.

Yesterday, I tried something new. I repeated to myself a simple thought, and was floored by the results.

"One mile at a time."

I especially appreciated how the phrase can be thought to the beat of my stride.

"One mile at a time."

I find I begin to convince myself that the last mile should be my last mile, so I repeated the phrase to the beat of my stride as I finished up a mile, and pressed through the start of another (and occasionally when I thought that I was finishing up a mile, and realized that again I was reading mileage as an analog clock).

I wish that I had footage of my run, because I noticed by the end of the 3rd mile and the start of the 4th that repeating "one mile at a time" had a particularly friendly connotation that compelled me to smile. At the end of the 4th and the start of the 5th, the phrase was almost funny.