Running & Boredom & Not Being Bored

[Listen to an audio version of this blog HERE.]

If I had a dollar for every time someone asked me how or when or why I run so much, I’d be filthy rich. Rolling in gold bars rich. Buying a yacht just to throw parties I don’t attend, serve food I’d never eat, on a sea I’ve never heard of, rich. It’s a funny thing to ask someone, since my running-so-much never usually involves anyone else. Running can be aggressively solitary, so it’s odd that anyone would care how I spend my own free time. I could easily retort, “I don’t know how you sit so much.” but that would be a bit bitchy, and I try to avoid bitchiness where it is not warranted.

A common follow-up question to the I-don’t-know-how-you-run-so-much bit is, “Don’t you ever get bored?” which seems equally asinine. If all I were hoping to achieve in life were the avoidance of boredom, I would likely be a very boring, vapid, insular human. Being bored is a choice, I think, but what the fuck do I know?

Running is equal parts extreme elation, mental test, physical pain, and boredom. There, I said it, and I’ll say it again. About 25% of the time, running is dreadfully boring. The same loop. The same surroundings. The same left foot-right foot-left foot sequence. The same thoughts, the same rhythmic breathing. But running has taught me to embrace moments of disquietude, to tap into my own…