Cry-Running

Cry-running is not something I recommend.  It makes you feel pretty sucky and it's difficult to breathe.  But it happens.

Sometimes you cry joyfully because you realize you've run farther or better than you've ever run before.  It hits you suddenly... I'm doing this.  I'm really doing this!  I never thought I had this in me, but I do have it and it's flowing out of me, and my mind and body worked together to make this moment happen!   Then you start to hyperventilate so you fight it off until you finish and just let.it.all.out.

Sometimes you're having a bad run.  You're tired and hot and body parts hurt and you want to stop but know that you'll only feel worse about everything if you stop so you keep going and you're still tired and hot and body parts still hurt and you start crying because you just.want.to.stop.  Then you start to hyperventilate and this is the kind of crying you can't really fight off so the run goes downhill (but not in that good downhill way) fast.

Other times you bring on the tears all by yourself.  Over a year ago last August, I ran seven miles with this song on repeat.



It was a day of gloom made even gloomier by my own attitude and mood and choice to press repeat on my iPod for over an hour so I could listen to that beautiful but depressing Coldplay song.  The cry-running wasn't as ugly as the cries from the girl in this video or anything, but tears streamed...down my face indeed.  Why would anyone do that to themselves?  I don't know, and I'll never know.  But after that awful run, I put my iPod in a drawer and said to myself, I don't need music.  I ran the next five months of training in silence.  People thought I was nuts.  "How do you run without music?"  At the time I had been reading a few marathon training books and many encouraged running without such distractions as it promotes a more pure experience, allowing you to be in better tune with your body, breathing, and thoughts.  So I'd tell people that's why, but in reality I simply didn't want to cry.  Only it didn't really help because I'd still cry.  It turns out that almost any run over 14 miles turns into a bad run for me so there was still plenty of crying.

Speaking of gloomy....  This started out as a happy post so let's get back to that, shall we? And don't worry.  After the big race, I came to my senses, charged my iPod, and ran on. To music.  Always.

This afternoon I've been weepy.  I'm not crying at a song or even my own run today.  I'm emotional because two close friends ran twelve miles this morning, and it's the furthest they've ever run in their lives.  They weren't easy runs for them, either.  Both of them had tough moments of fatigue and foot and knee pain, and they wanted to stop.  Maybe they felt like crying, I don't know, but the important thing is that they didn't stop until they reached their goal for the day.  I know how good that feels, and I'm so happy for them that I could cry.  So I do!