What I imagine when I imagine myself running
In my mind, the desire to run is constitutional. But I think it lies dormant and undeveloped for most people.
Despite what many probably tell themselves, I truly believe running is fun. And I think you'd agree, at the very least in short bursts and part of something bigger. For example, running down a hill; chasing after a young sibling or family member and laughing maniacally; hauling after a frisbee in the park.
No one is running because they enjoy slamming their feet on pavement - at least, I don’t think they are. People do it for exercise, or to clear their head, or to get outside, or for a million other reasons. If running can always be tied to something greater, it is by my definition, an inherent component of that greatness.
Running is captivating. It’s elementary, demanding, and debilitating, and just maybe the purest physical activity on the planet. You don’t need anything. Just step outside and run. Consider the absolute warrior who ran the 1960 Olympic marathon barefoot and took home gold, completing his 26 interminable miles in 2 hours and 15 minutes.
There’s nothing quite like it because everything is quite like it. Running, in some form, is involved in every major sport from the pitch to the diamond. We chase the bus, duck for cover away from the rain, and dash abjectly into closing elevators every day, barely taking in the fact that those could be the literal first steps towards a lifelong passion if nurtured correctly.
But none of these are things I imagine when I imagine myself running.
Getting there
I’m new to running. I’m new to exercise in general, but running is the channel I’ve found myself enamored by. As some of you may know, I’ve been on a big physical journey over the last two-plus years, shedding nearly half my body weight and embracing a more confident, fulfilled version of myself. Of course, a big part of that required physical activity.
The adventure and misery and revelry of discovering a new passion for exercise in adulthood is something I hope every person on this planet can one day encounter. I’m grateful for every up and down, every meter of elevation, and every black toe along the way.
My relationship with running is an odd one. My dad ran throughout my entire life, running over a dozen half-marathons and one full marathon. I distinctly remember him training for these, and the hundreds of other short runs he’d go on after work or on the weekends.
I also remember the state of utter breakdown he was in after his marathon, and the words he used to reflect on it: "Once was enough."
Being an overweight guy most of my life, I thought he was ineffably mad. Who in their right mind would subject themselves to that? Running 42km!? But, as Murakami (the author who inspired the title of this post) wrote, “The best aspect of a marathon is the warmth of people's support. I feel happier every time I enter a marathon.” I bet my dad felt the same.
My initial disdain for running wasn’t just internal musings, though. A year or so ago, a friend of mine recalled a random thought of mine, pre-weight loss: “I will never be a runner. There is no way I will ever do that for fun.”
But I firmly believe my running-adjacent family lit a decades-long fuse inside me that only now is reaching the end of its comically-long, Roadrunner-esque wick. My dad worked long days, due in part to his brutal commute to Mississauga, yet still managed to find time for family, to run for recreation, and even race. And here I was in September 2020, sitting in my home office as an adult, with a solid income, no dependents and no partner (at least at the time), without any excuses. That was the catalyst to begin embracing a healthier lifestyle, and with that, exercise.
And of course, running vacuumed itself to the top like a bingo ball of quiet enlightenment.
The first steps
There were other contributing factors to becoming a runner. I didn’t just start running right away at the biggest I was. I walked upwards of 20,000 steps a day for a solid year before even beginning to run, which undoubtedly prepared me for the thought of eventually quickening the pace of feet against pavement.
When it got to the point of needing to raise my heart rate and embrace sustainable exercise, running made sense. There’s no better way to raise your heart rate than to just sprint down the goddamn road. And that’s what I did, funnily enough.
I remember putting on my headphones in the fall of 2021, walking down my front steps, throwing on Stay by the Kid Laroi and Biebs, and running as hard as I could until the song was over. Then I would walk for a song, sprint for the next, and repeat until I couldn’t do it anymore. It was my own shitty version of HIIT training, and it worked…sort of.
(As an aside, I will always remember Stay. It will forever take me back to my earliest days of running and live forever as the first song on my “Work it Out” playlist. Maybe this is a common phenomenon with regular athletes or gym rats, but the idea of tying a song to a focal point of your physical journey is endearing and hopeful in all the best ways. I wish you all to have a song that brings you back to the best, healthiest days of your lives, if only for a moment.)
I told a friend about my sHIITy training method and his immediate reaction was a laugh followed by a pat on the back, saying that it was a hilariously terrible but startlingly effective method of training. Miraculously, he said he was most amazed it didn’t burn me out or result in some kind of horrible injury, which I am elated about in retrospect.
Multiple iterations of this process took place, getting to the point where I even began mixing in hill running at Christie Pits as some romantic if not entirely deranged deviation.
Eventually, I felt comfortable enough to begin running without stopping, which has since become my golden rule. I’ll die before I stop.
The first “run” as I can honestly define it saw me venture from Dundas West up to Bloor, just under 2km, without stopping to rest.
Upon reaching my destination, that feeling of completion I found will never leave me. Ecstatic and dumbstruck, panting like the proudest little puppy. I was standing there, a manifestation of all the hard work, a bonfire roaring in the crisp fall night settling upon the corner of Palmerston and Bloor.
“I just ran up to Bloor without a break,” I remember thinking, absolutely incredulous at the thought and still struggling to confirm if it was real. I walked back home (couldn’t run back yet) a different person, triumphant and positive that a new chapter had just begun.
Fast forward a couple of weeks to November 1, 2021, I embarked on my first tracked run ever. I ran 6km in 41 minutes. I was damn proud of that time but more so proud I had managed to keep up with the idea of running.
This isn’t meant to be a record of running paces and how quickly I improved my times - that may come later at some point. But what I do want to point out is that, in under one year since that very first run in mid October, I went from barely being able to run 2km without stopping, to finishing a half marathon (21.1km) in under 1:58, which by my margin, is a pretty great pace for a first timer and ahead of my target pace of 2 hours.
Even when writing that out, it still seems unbelievable. Finishing that half marathon was arguably one of the biggest achievements of my life so far, and among the happiest days of my life so far. Two years ago, it seemed like an insurmountable task, something so out of reach that even thinking about it would have been laughable. I understood what Murakami meant.
Hell, even when I signed up for it (riding endorphins after finishing my first-ever 10km race on May 1), it seemed very unlikely. And, even three weeks before the race, just overcoming a really brutal sickness that ravaged my training schedule, it seemed very unlikely.
One thing I really like about running now is its ritualistic nature. I’m sure this “church on Sunday” feeling holds true for many people who exercise regularly, but that whole concept is new to me, so I’ll just outline what every single run ends up looking like, without fail.
A typical run in nine stages
Stage 1: Assessing the Environment
Description: “What’s the weather like? I ask myself. Anything hotter than 25 degrees or colder than -5 degrees means I skip out on running. Hot weather limits can vary depending on the levels of sun - either way, forget running when it is oppressively hot out.
Prevailing thought: “Why can’t it be 14 and sunny every single day?”
Stage 2: Gather Materials
Description: Based on the answer to Step 1, I find a long or short sleeve running tee (or even multiple layers), some track pants, or just maybe those hilariously slutty 5-inch inseam running shorts. Then I make sure my watch is charged, pop in my Jabras, locate the Work it Out playlist, then press play on my phone and pause immediately, ensuring I can slide my phone into an armband and control the music through my ear buds themselves.
Prevailing thought: “Should I endure being cold the first 10 minutes of my run to be comfortable the last 30? Yes.”
Stage 3: Venture Outside
Description: I step out my front door and do a handful of quick stretches, but not really for the health benefits - more so to give myself one last chance to say, “do I really need to run today?” The answer is always yes, with the exact same reasoning every time: I run today so I don’t have to run tomorrow.
Prevailing thought: “I absolutely did not stretch enough upon finishing my last run.”
Stage 4: Feet Against the Ground
Description: Press play on my earbuds, press start on the watch, and off we go. It’s one of two ways: right if I want to run along the water and Ontario place (usually a longer run of anywhere from 9km - 16km) or left for a short, fast run up to Dupont and back (6-8km). The answer to “left or right” is dynamic and shifts based on how my legs feel.
Prevailing thought: “I’m probably the most productive person on the planet. See that neighbor - did they run today? Probably not. I’m a model of health.”
Stage 5: 0 - 2km
Description: This is usually pretty fun. Hopefully I get a great song or two on the playlist, and I’m enjoying the weather and outdoors. I’m dodging some traffic (probably on Dundas or Queen) and feeling like I made a good decision. Spirits are high, and I’m in a good place.
Prevailing thought: “I’ve skipped this song every time it comes on. Why doesn’t Spotify understand I still want it on my playlist, but never want to listen to it? Some algorithm that is.”
Step 6: 2 - 5km
Description: The good place fades. This is where I always think, “I could stop now and it would still be an okay workout, and no one would know I quit early.” Literally every single run, I think this exact same thought. And every single time, I ignore it. Isn’t that weird? Isn’t that insanity? Here’s where I can really assess how difficult a run this will be, usually influenced by time of day, total sleep, food intake (and quality of food intake), and more. Ideal form factor for a run? Pre-9am, one shot of espresso, no food, 7:30+ hours of sleep.
Prevailing thought: “I’m dying.”
Step 7: 5 - 10km
Description: This is where you really unravel the enigma of running. It’s almost like a “soul leaves body” moment, without the existential reflection. I’m just fuckin’ running. Tunes blasting, reaching whatever pace I’m capable of that day, and in a state of constant flux between “agonizingly tired and needs to stop” and “I could do another 15km easily.” Time is but a social construct, and I am one with the traffic and dogs on leashes.
Prevailing thought: “Why don’t runners nod at each other more often?”
Step8: 10km+
Description: This is usually a run reserved for half marathon training, so this is particular. I’m feeling like I’m a real athlete, out here on the streets training for something. Like Rocky running up the steps, or Happy putting the ball into the clown’s mouth. This is where I’m not even thinking, just putting one foot in front of the other and imagining what my Strava results will look like at the end.
Prevailing thought: “I’m training, and exhausted, and my hammies kill. But I'm still training. And also dying.”
Step 9: Home free
Description: I always end at the exact same point, just down the road from my house, so I can walk the last 3 minutes home and cool down a bit. Then I go upstairs, grab a protein shake or water, and sit on my stoop to examine my results. This is where it really hits - “Damn, I just went on a run!” That feeling never gets old. Just like every step in this process, it happens every time.
Prevailing thought: “I wonder who will give me digital kudos on this run. Who can I give kudos to? I can’t wait to run in a few days.”
As one parting note, another constant thought came up as I was trying to think about running. Despite what a lot of people have told me about running, it never gets easier. And you know what? I think I finally realize that’s the point.
And that’s what I imagine when I imagine myself running.
