I'm More of an Addict

Yesterday I had an odd run. I didn't feel all that well and the knee that I stupidly smashed up this summer was feeling a little tighter than it has in the last few weeks. I wasn't going more than five miles and I was on one of my stock runs (from work up into Central Park, turning around at the garbage pickup spot along the bridle path). The weather wasn't even very notable: just a nearly setting sun and cool but not cool enough to be invigorating. I consciously started out slower to try to let the knee loosen naturally, I don't very much like to run slow. It was one of those runs that seemed to exist solely to provide me and excuse to write down "4.5" and "C-" on my paper.(1)
But then about a mile into the run something happened. My legs started behaving as though they belonged to someone else. They just loosened up and felt instantly more powerful. I was running high and picking up my feet with no effort. I honestly had to deliberately slow myself down because I didn't trust this sudden feeling of power.
It doesn't happen often but it happens often enough. The sensation of your brain being disconnected from your legs, of your legs taking over and dominating, dragging you along for the ride, is completely sublime. I won't say it's why I run in the first place, but it is definitely one of the reasons I run now as a 28 year old likely past the point of ever seriously racing again. It's maybe the one thing more than any other that addicts me to running.
I saw Chariots of Fire for the first time maybe a little more than a year ago. It was an ok movie but nothing really special and nothing that terribly inspired me to want to run any more than another movie. But it did have the single best explanation of running that I've ever heard. A woman (she's a singer) is talking about how she loves singing, and asks her companion, one of the main protagonists of the film, if he also loves running. He responds: "I'm more of an addict."
This is it. This strikes to the very heart of the relationship a runner has with his avocation.
Sure I like running a lot, but I'm more of an addict. I don't love it. There are those primal physical responses my body gives me that force me back to the sidewalks and the dirt paths, cause me to cross through levels of pain and discomfort in a curious but faithful attempt to reproduce the magic. Not to aggrandize the effect, but it can't be altogether different from a coke-head's mindless pursuit of another snort; no matter how many bad hits he suffers, he keeps clawing back.
I suppose there are some people who love running, that not everyone must be like me. But I have known enough over the years to suspect that in fact the connection many have is less emotional and more psychological and of course physical.


1. Yes, I keep a log. No, it is not much at all like the kind you see a recreational marathoner or a serious collegian keeping. I used Excel to print out three months' worth of calendar per printed page. Each day's box is just big enough to fit in a notation for the run's length, the letter grade I give to it, whether I worked out at all that day, whether I did leg exercises, and whether I did abdominal exercises. The best day possible, would contain these notes started from the top left and going clockwise around the square (assuming a six mile run): 6, A, A, L, W. It's a quick way for me to keep track of my fitness and of course an easy way to stay focused on being fit. I devised this system back at the turn of the year and made up calendar blocks for the whole year, but only followed along for about the first four months, before restarting with it in September.In five-plus months of logging runs, I've never given a run a grade of A. I've only ever given made two or three A minuses. I've also never given any Fs either. Until I get into better shape, the good- or badness of my runs is still rather limited.