Unplug, Run, And Rediscover: How Running Without Headphones Unlocks Healing

I left the house shortly after five a.m. This is my favorite time of the day, the moment before the hustle and bustle of life, the moment where the sun begins to make an appearance and the surrounding landscape glows with a gentle vibrancy. A car less road spread out before me. A crisp, but dry morning. The goal? To run the roughly six-and-a-half-mile loop around the small bay that drifts inland near my home. This is the second time in the past seven days doing this run. The last time I ran a distance more than four miles was in June of 2018 when I ran the San Diego Rock n’ Roll Half Marathon. I have taken both opportunities this week as a time to clear my mind, a much-needed activity to cope with the challenges brought on from outside forces. I was compelled to go on each run without headphones as to not distract myself with a podcast or music. There’s a recognition here; life has a tendency to be filled with chatter. Silence is becoming a tough commodity to come by. If the chatter is not coming from the outside, it’s coming from within. Doing extended cardio without headphones is a task that is challenging in itself, but very welcome each time, especially in the recognition of how it lends to the spirit. My mind thanks me for embarking on such distances without distraction, my body however, gives slight protest.  

My mind raced the first half of the run, thinking of the to do’s, the how’s and the why’s of the day ahead. Not having the sound of music or talking voices from a podcast playing in my ear freed up the space for me to process, plan, and acknowledge my thoughts, and then gently move them aside. For a brief moment following the half-way mark, my mind stayed clear and mostly free of thought. There was more of a transition to positive self talk in order to push my legs through the tightness that was beginning to present itself in my lower extremities. Nearing the end of my run, my mind began to chatter as more thoughts came up. Rather than investigate, I simply said to them, thank you for your awareness. I kindly release you. 

The stark recognition brought on by the conduit of beauty that surrounded me washed through my being. The lush green trees along the roadway; tall, full and wide. The beautiful, crowded garden in front of a passing home, filled with hydrangeas, various grasses and other plants I do not know the names of. To my left sat the bay, its waters still, reflecting the images of the nearby foliage that danced along the coastline. As the sounds of surrounding birds echoed their songs across the glass like surface, up the embankment and into my ear drums, I was filled with an overwhelming feeling. Not the bad kind of overwhelm, but something gentler. Not exactly peace, but more so a feeling of connection. There came a recognition in the simplicity of living via the complexities of life, an odd duality, but a true and important one.   

As humans, we have problems. But why? And, for what? How many of my own problems are self-induced? How much of what I worry about or ruminate on is worthy of my actual attention? I’d argue I create most, if not all, problems and a minimal amount of them are truly worthy of my attention. Yet, there I am, caught up in worry and anxiety. Always thinking too much. I have mentioned it before, and I will mention it a million times more. My mindfulness practice is working wonders in my daily life by giving me the awareness and the tools to gently float in the rivers of thought without getting swept away downstream. A direct correlation exists between my growing ability to interact with a thought and by speaking the words, thank you for your awareness. I kindly release you. There is the recognition that my thoughts exist, and a recognition that I do not want to be held captive by them. There is compassion in their awareness but more importantly, there is freedom in their release.  

As I am passing through this wonderful surrounding ecosystem of vibrant, talkative life, I realized–as I have done many times before, but am always provided reminders at the most opportune times–that amidst all of human worries and struggles there is a constant revolving world around me, one which does not and will not slow down to entertain my anxious demands. Under the calm, glassy surface of water is an entire world full of life that is existing and will exist no matter my own trials and tribulations. The plants around me will flourish, the trees will breathe and continue to expand their footprint. The birds and wildlife will sing and dance and move no matter my work stresses, my struggles with parenthood, my stress of personal responsibility, the to do’s, and on, and on, and on. This is life and it’s important to step back at times and remember these things so as to not lose sight of the beauty while we are graced with our time in this existing reality. And what little time it truly is.  

I shall close with this. Recently my wife shared some wisdom from arguably one of greatest comedians of all time, Eddie Murphy. It comes from the 1998 movie Holy Man, and it goes:

Seventy-five years. That’s how much time you get if you’re lucky. Seventy-five years. Seventy-five Winters. Seventy-five Springtime’s. Seventy-five Summers. And Seventy-five Autumns. When you look at it like that, it’s not a lot of time, is it? Don’t waste them. Get your head out of the rat race and forget about the superficial things that preoccupy your existence and get back to what’s important now. Right Now. This very second. And I’m not saying, drop everything and let the world come to a grinding halt. I’m saying that you could become a seeker. You could be loving more. You could be taking some chances. You could be living more. You could be spending more time with your family. You could be getting in touch with the part of you that lives instead of fears; the part of you that loves instead of hates; the part of you that recognizes the humanity in all of us. And I tell you, that’s where you’re fortunate. 

Eddie Murphy, Holy Man (1998)