Mantras

I read an article in Runner’s World about mantras. It said that mantras are for when your mind is telling your body to quit and you need to redirect your mind. So true. Over time I have come up with a few mantras while running. Some help, some make me laugh and some get me strange looks, but they all keep my mind redirected. 

One of my favorite things to do while running is listening to music. Many times, I have taken a line from a song and used that to repeat in my head like “hold fast,” “never let go” or “take it to the end.” However, songs can also wreak havoc on my mindset when I am caught with the occasional kids’ song that comes through my iPod shuffling. Then I find myself repeating “You get the best of both worlds” as I am trying to push past mile seven. Not the best tactic. 

When I am in a hard place mentally and physically, I tend to ignore the tunes in my ears and focus on a few tried and true mantras. Some of my favorites are “push through,” “keep moving,” “don’t stop” and “just one more step.” I read once that repeating the word “down” with every step was highly affective, even to the point of athletes becoming injured. I tried it one day but it made me think of “fall down” and “lie down” so I stopped before I did one of those. If you say certain ones too quickly they can lose their meaning and their potency. I once used “You got it” but it turned into “got it” and the more I said it the more it became a question and not a statement of solid strength. Then my mind wandered and I began to think of “got milk,” which lead to a whole slew of “got, fill in the blanks.”

It is always best when using a mantra not to say it aloud if possible. I know this can be difficult when in the moment. Still there is nothing sane looking about a person running, sweat dripping off their face mumbling “kill it” on the back paths of suburbia. It is always good advice not to freak out the mothers pushing strollers. They are most likely to call the police, or worse, post it on Facebook.

Recently on a long run, I pulled out every mantra trick in the book. I tried the funny “don’t trip,” the cliché “just do it,” the helpful “keep going” and even the fail safe “feel strong.” However, no matter what I said I was still struggling to fight the urge to stop running and walk. I made it through mile six and had some energy gel to get my stride back up, but I quickly slowed to a jog again. Around mile eight, my mind started to tease me with walking once again, and I began to question why I ever wanted to run 26 miles. My legs were sore and I was two miles behind schedule. My lower back was feeling as if someone punched me in the kidneys, and my arms felt like lead. As my mind began focusing on all the things that hurt, I fought hard to distract it with words and phrases that were falling short.

Finally, I settled on recounting why I started this tortuous journey in the first place. I remembered that one day I might be running a different kind of marathon. One that I will need all my strength just to get out of bed. One that could leave me so tired, so weak that walking may be hard. A certain kind of marathon that takes place on a daily basis in the life of a person with a disabling disease. I pray that the day never comes, but I know that if it does I will need this practice to get through it. I will need to learn now how to push myself physically and mentally to reach my goals no matter how far they are. I will need to fill the inner reserves with a kind of strength that only come from knowing you can do anything you set your mind to. 

I finished my run that day. I was able to draw a feeling of joy from a feeling of defeat. To turn my labored breathing into breaths of new life and determination.  Pushing out those last few miles with peace and elation. It was good practice for marathon day this November, but even better practice for every day the rest of my life.