I started running distance to prove myself to someone.
And then to some people.
Which was really me needing to prove myself to me.

I needed to complete the marathon distance.
Crossing that finish line would be the proof.

And then I did.
And then it was.
And then it wasn’t.

Over time, a fair amount of time,
And over distance, lots and lots of distance,
Running became this moment for me –
Each moment I was out there –
Where I wasn’t where I have been,
Nor was I where I was to be.

I was just there.
Running.

I wasn’t where I was,
I wasn’t where I was heading,
So
I wasn’t able to do anything about anything, really.
I couldn’t check the next thing off of the list.
I couldn’t do the next thing to do.

I could stress about it.
But stress would keep me from being where I was.
That would keep me from the run I was running.

I could worry about it.
But that would weigh me down,
And burden the run I was running.

It became meditative –
That place between –
Where, at its best,
I was able to be.

And that became the most freeing moment for me.
Moments.
Presence.

Never perfect,
Always waxing and waning,
In and out of that flow.
A times, not at all.
Yet, to taste the flow,
That is the moment.

There are those times,
When time matters.
When the amount counts.
That is growth, after all.

A little further.
A little longer.
Must mean I am a little better.

If a little is good,
More must be better, right?

And soon enough, the hours of a long run,
The miles of the day,
Can be co-opted back to proving yourself, once again.

And the moment is less about the moment,
And becomes about what you are running towards –
The next goal,
Medal,
Race.
Approval.

And the moment is less about the moment,
And becomes more about what you are running from –
The old goals,
The last distance,
The last time.
Shame.

And we lose the moment to
The empty promise of accomplishment –
The next thing will bring fulfillment,
The next will prove my worth.

As if there is this measuring stick we need to hold ourselves up to,
And change, achieve, win our way into the club.

And then it becomes never good enough.
I could have been faster,
Gone further,
Raced more.

It becomes less about the process of it all,
And becomes about how many.

It becomes less about who we can become,
And becomes more about how we can be seen.

It becomes less about who we help along the way,
And more about promoting how helpful we think we are.

Pride.
Numbers.
Appearance.

No,
I have never been fully without ego,
Nor without some drive for more.

But,
I have tasted those moments.
I have dipped into the very nature of things –
Where all that is needed is the moment.
Flow.

And when I can cast aside the gps watch,
And not worry about tracking distance, pace, or logging miles,
When I don’t worry about who knows how far I’ve run,
Or what races need to be bragged about,

And I can focus on the moment,
I can free myself from the need to be
Good enough,
Fit in,
Or seen as special.

For, if I worry about how many,
How it looks,
And who is around me,
The process is lost;
The moment is missed.

I could never trade the endless hours I have ran that no one knows about;
The ones where I am most lost in the moments.
Flow.

The training runs,
Hours alone on the trail
Are where and when the universe meets me most.

The races, alas,
Are mostly for show,
And, at best, the icing on the cake
Of one hell of a training season;
And then onto the next.

“…if you compromise the process, you’re an asshole when you start out and you’re an asshole when you get back.”

– Yvon Chouinard, Founder – Patagonia

© Dr Adam Fujita