Steve’s Diary

July 7th, 2006

Conscious Running

Today I discovered what I call “conscious running.” I typically run 12-15 miles per week, always including a couple of major San Francisco hills in my running route. Adapting some of the principles in Master the Art of Running (Balk and Shields),* I decided to run WITHOUT my iPod headset glued to my ears for a change, and to be open to the sensations and the experiences in my body and in my environment as I ran up and down those hills. The first thing I noticed was how much more I could tune in to my breath, my rhythm (both breath and leg-motion) and the beauty of the day (at 7 am, the streets are pretty much deserted, except for other runners). I was able to notice the way my feet strike the ground, really connecting with the earth with each step; I could sense the subtle differences in temperature as I went closer to the park (and the ocean) and then away from it; but most of all, I noticed an increase in vitality and energy because I was not bringing my normal “multi-tasking” into my running routine – not trying to listen to the news, practice my Japanese, listen to lectures or seminars, etc., to distract myself from the activity I was actually involved in: running. We get so accustomed to multitasking that it becomes second nature – talking on the phone while driving, eating while reading or watching TV, typing at the computer while listening to music, etc., etc. I have discovered the value of letting go of multitasking when it is really not necessary or appropriate.Why do we need to listen to music or the stock market report while running or working out? Can’t we just listen to the body, or, in the case of running, to the birds and the wind and the sound of our own feet rhythmically striking the pavement like the endless rhythm of the waves or our own heartbeat? In this way, running (or walking or swimming) can become like a meditation – a way of tuning in to the infinite forces around us and within us. Like almost any activity, exercise can become an expression of our inherent wholeness if we just let go of thinking, multitasking, planning and remembering and allow ourselves to be in the moment, to connect with the earth and our environment and to allow our bodies to find, explore and revel in their own natural rhythms. This is what integrated functioning is all about.

*Master the Art of Running: Raising your performance with the Alexander Technique by Malcolm Balk and Andrew Shields; Collins and Brown, London, 2006.

August 1st, 2006

Multitasking

But just what do I mean when I say that multitasking diminishes the benefits of running? I don’t mean to imply that multitasking is never appropriate – I consider myself an expert at it. I have been active performing arts photographer for 30 years, and for the past 8 years, I have been building a Middendorf Breath Massage practice as well as working on and teaching workshops on bringing balance into our daily lives. In our rush-rush culture, multitasking certainly has its place. The problem comes when we apply the skills learned in our working environment to the rest of our lives.

As I was stretching after running the other day, I heard an animated woman’s voice speaking loudly in Spanish as she crossed Duboce Park with a baby in a stroller. How sweet, I thought to myself, she is telling the baby a story, or talking about the birds and the flowers. As she got closer, I realized she was talking into a cell phone – completely ignoring the child, an infant about six months old. When she got to the swings, still chatting away, she lifted the child with one arm and nestled him into the bucket-style swing seat and proceeded to push the swing, still talking into her phone. Is this the way you would want YOUR child cared for? Is this the way you want to care for your own body and its needs? The child was too young to complain, but it must have sensed that it was being ignored. Likewise with our own bodies when we are caught up in the crush of events, responsibilities and, yes, even the recreational activities that most of us engage in every day.

My point in last month’s Journal was that we need to re- tune our senses so that messages from the body can get through the din of other stimuli in our daily activities. This is what conscious running is all about – learning to listen to the body and to adapt to its needs; to know when we are expecting too much of our muscles, joints, backs, etc., and to ease up a little; to recognize unnecessary rushing as we get caught up in the whirl of events in our lives and to take a moment to listen to the breath, really to SEE the world around us and to regain our equilibrium. Come join us in our exploration!

September 1, 2006

Wake-Up Whispers

One of my teachers, David Gorman, founder and developer of LearningMethods™, has taught us to be aware of the “wake-up calls” that the body sends us in the form of symptoms – pain, anxiety, tension, etc. – when a situation or a physical activity is straining our bodies or our minds beyond the point of efficient functioning. In David’s schema, the “wake-up call” is the beginning of understanding – the thing that grabs our attention and forces us, sometimes at awkward moments in our lives, to attend to the body or to the source of stress or anxiety. In my running practice (I call it a “practice” because it is almost like a meditation for me) I have learned to be acutely aware of the messages from the body, as my last couple of Journals have indicated. I don’t like to be distracted by an iPod or by conversation, as I indicated in my journal entry on Conscious Running (Newsletter of July 10th). I like to be able to listen to the sounds of nature, to notice the trees, the gardens, even the cars that I am running past. And perhaps even more important, I like to stay tuned in to the messages from my body. I like to extend my running route by an eighth of a mile each week and I would like to avoid strain and pain to my 61 year old body if possible. This means that I need to be aware of every little message coming in from my legs, especially my knees and my feet, and from the rest of my body. Every so often I notice a twinge of pain in my right knee, especially on one of the major hills on my route. Generally a very slight shift in my stride or the angle of my foot is enough to make this pain subside. But my point is that we need to be listening for these subtle messages to get through the background din of thoughts, memories, plans and other sensations (even when we’re NOT additionally distracted by an iPod or a cell-phone). I call these messages “wake-up whispers,” and I think it is important for anyone who uses his or her body in any strenuous way, whether doing yoga, Pilates, running, swimming, dancing or whatever, to be tuned in to these “whispers” when they arise. TrueBalance is all about being tuned in to sensation and knowing how to respond to it if a response is called for. To maintain a healthy relationship to our body/ mind, we really need to listen to the whispers as well as the shouts.

I believe that the “wake-up signal,” (whether a murmur or a shout) is really just the first stage in allowing ourselves to return to balanced support. The second step is to RECOGNIZE the signal, to identify its source (my right knee in the example above). Then comes a moment of REORGANIZATION – a slight shift in our weight or posture, perhaps a brief stretch of a sore muscle (a very slight adjustment in my gait and in the angle of my foot in the running example). And finally, perhaps most importantly, we then FORGET the pain or the symptom, and return to smooth functioning. This forgetting is really what integrated functioning is all about. The body knows exactly how to stay balanced and at ease. We just need to get out of our own way and allow it to flow smoothly. So once tiny adjustments have been made (or larger ones perhaps), it is important to let go once again and allow the body to finds its own perfect form. This is the core of balanced functioning and the essence of conscious running.

December 1, 2006

Run Silent, Run Deep

When I was learning to swim as a child, I remember being taught that the best dive was one that caused practically no ripple in the water–the goal was that my body would slide silently into the water even after a beautiful jack- knife or swan-dive and that I would then plunge deeply into the pool or lake, perhaps even touching the bottom with my hands, before heading back up toward the surface. I have found something of the same principle applies to my running. When I am running with perfect balance and coordination, my footsteps are nearly silent on the side-walk or path–my hips, knees and ankles all work together to produce a fluid motion of the legs and a minimum of jarring to my spine and torso. This does not work so well if I make silence my goal–then it’s possible to begin manipulating my stride, leaning forward from the hips, consciously bending my knees, perhaps turning my foot downward slightly so that I land on the balls of my feet. But if I can just let my body organize the movement, my running becomes fast, efficient and practically silent.

One of the basic principles of integrated functioning is that we just need to get out of our own way and let the body/mind coordinate our movements and activities in the most efficient way possible. I have found that a little preparation for my run makes this coordination much easier. Of course a good warm-up is essential. I generally spend 3-5 minutes stretching, observing my breath and generally preparing myself for the exertion. Then I jog gently for the first 5 or 6 blocks of my run. This gives my body a chance to get used to the pavement, to the temperature of the air and to the various demands I am placing on my muscles and joints. Only then does the actual running begin. At this point, I make a conscious choice of smooth coordination and efficient use of the various parts of my body involved–my arms and shoulders are loose and swing freely, complementing the motion of my legs (as in The Canoe, a movement routine we teach in our workshops); my legs and feet are free to find their own rhythm and to adapt to the various changes in the terrain as I run. Like all runners, I find this easier on some days than on others. Some mornings my body needs just a little more stretching, a few more blocks of warm-up jogging and a more gradual increase in speed and momentum. It is important to be alert to the “whispers” from the body I spoke about in my October journal and not to try to force a pattern of movement onto a tired or resistant body.

On the days when the running comes naturally, or when I have enough time really to stretch properly and to warm up thoroughly, my running is, in fact, practically silent. And there is also a quality of connection with the earth as I run: each footstep is a soundless reminder of my oneness with the infinite, with the birds and the trees, the earth and the sky and, yes, even with the cars and busses that careen past me. We are all one with the breath, with the earth and with the universe. It is almost as though I am reaching into the earth with my steps–sometimes the ground itself seems to become resilient and elastic. This is the ultimate experience of Conscious Running–my body becomes free and flexible, and almost floats across the ground. Try it. And experience the freedom!