Marathon and No-Self Care
Through running, I've had the chance to directly experience the teachings of my beloved teachers on the wooded trails of Blue Mound State Park. There have been moments of vividly recognizing mind, periods of boredom, flashes of inspiration and ample opportunity to use body sensations as the object of meditation. Meditation and running have become inseparable.
A couple of weeks ago I completed my first marathon, and in the process I completed my longest-ever running-meditation session. As in my shorter long runs (15 - 20 miles), calm abiding and clear seeing were interspersed with periods of boredom and distraction. In addition to experiencing the standard-usual during the marathon, I also experienced protracted periods of ego-clinging. While ego-clinging may sound like a hindrance to recognizing my true nature, it was an eye-opening opportunity to pull back the proverbial curtain on a fundamental source of suffering.
As I meandered through the Kickapoo Valley Preserve in the Driftless 50 marathon, there were periods of doubt. Doubt that I could finish the marathon within its cut-off time, fears that my legs would buckle and an overall sense that I might come away from the experience a little worse for the wear. While these doubts and fears may not have been entirely unfounded, I was curious about their root. Where did these thoughts come from? Where did they lead?
Within the framework of curiosity, I asked who or what has these doubts and fears? I worked with this question for miles and miles. Through a process of elimination, it became clear that I was less afraid of falling into the Kickapoo River than I was of surrendering my identity. I wear many different hats, and like so many of us, I've come to identify those hats as me. And I work tirelessly to reinforce this sense of me, and doggedly make sure that this me is not threatened.
The recent marathon injected a relatively benign threat into the ongoing fortification of me. The race course was on trails that were miles away from the back of beyond, and there was no way out... other than through. So through I went. Through periods of doubt (who or what is doubting?) Though periods of pain (who or what is afraid of getting injured?) Through periods of boredom (who or what craves stimulation?)
In the hours of these contemplations, I glimpsed ego-clinging. Sure, it's always been there, though the length of the run brought my attachment to a fleeting collection of appearances starkly into focus. At about mile 22, I came to think of this race as no-self care... the only version of self-care that lastingly relieves suffering. In hanging out with my ego clinging during this marathon, I feel like its hold is just a bit looser than it was before.
This opportunity to work with my mind and body was so intriguing, that I've signed up for my first ultra-marathon. Next March I plan to run the Behind the Rocks 50K in Moab, UT. In the meantime, I'm ramping up the intensity of my training, and hope to keep my mileage consistent through the colder months.
A couple of weeks ago I completed my first marathon, and in the process I completed my longest-ever running-meditation session. As in my shorter long runs (15 - 20 miles), calm abiding and clear seeing were interspersed with periods of boredom and distraction. In addition to experiencing the standard-usual during the marathon, I also experienced protracted periods of ego-clinging. While ego-clinging may sound like a hindrance to recognizing my true nature, it was an eye-opening opportunity to pull back the proverbial curtain on a fundamental source of suffering.
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| When I look into the eyes of this practitioner, I almost have a sense of what's possible. (photo by Mattieu Ricard) |
As I meandered through the Kickapoo Valley Preserve in the Driftless 50 marathon, there were periods of doubt. Doubt that I could finish the marathon within its cut-off time, fears that my legs would buckle and an overall sense that I might come away from the experience a little worse for the wear. While these doubts and fears may not have been entirely unfounded, I was curious about their root. Where did these thoughts come from? Where did they lead?
Within the framework of curiosity, I asked who or what has these doubts and fears? I worked with this question for miles and miles. Through a process of elimination, it became clear that I was less afraid of falling into the Kickapoo River than I was of surrendering my identity. I wear many different hats, and like so many of us, I've come to identify those hats as me. And I work tirelessly to reinforce this sense of me, and doggedly make sure that this me is not threatened.
The recent marathon injected a relatively benign threat into the ongoing fortification of me. The race course was on trails that were miles away from the back of beyond, and there was no way out... other than through. So through I went. Through periods of doubt (who or what is doubting?) Though periods of pain (who or what is afraid of getting injured?) Through periods of boredom (who or what craves stimulation?)
In the hours of these contemplations, I glimpsed ego-clinging. Sure, it's always been there, though the length of the run brought my attachment to a fleeting collection of appearances starkly into focus. At about mile 22, I came to think of this race as no-self care... the only version of self-care that lastingly relieves suffering. In hanging out with my ego clinging during this marathon, I feel like its hold is just a bit looser than it was before.
This opportunity to work with my mind and body was so intriguing, that I've signed up for my first ultra-marathon. Next March I plan to run the Behind the Rocks 50K in Moab, UT. In the meantime, I'm ramping up the intensity of my training, and hope to keep my mileage consistent through the colder months.
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