I find that I struggle to run without music.
Music pushes me to move, to move faster, and to achieve my goals. Yet so many wax poetic about how they love running without headphones, that they can tune in around them. The sounds of nature…or where I live, the cacophonous melody of a city.
I decided that as a good compromise and as a mindfulness challenge, I would turn the music off when I was done my run. Then I would complete my cooldown listening to whatever sounds were around me, more observant to my surroundings.
Not even one mile into my run (I went a different route than I normally do,) I saw a Pittsburgh fire truck tending to a man who appeared to be unconscious in a grocery store parking lot. I later saw the ambulance weaving through rush hour traffic, presumably to help the man as well. I decided that I would also pray and send good thoughts to those around me, and made an effort to really look at the people surrounding me at intersections. (But, you know, not in a creepy way.)
Couples walking dogs, security guards, college students clutching Target bags of essentials as they move into Pitt or CMU or Chatham. I am an avid people-watcher thanks to my father, and wrote stories about these individuals in my head.
So, the point of this rambling post is that I was mindful and I liked it. I’m reading a book on living life without distraction, and it’s one of the better books I’ve read in awhile. (Link here.) The author puts it so much better than me. After reflecting on “taking off the clock” and not rushing time or multitasking when with her loved ones:
I know every minute of life cannot be lived like this. We have responsibilities, commitments, bills, deadlines, and duties. But when I take the time to open my eyes, my heart, and my hands, I become aware that there is often something more pressing at hand.
There must be time to wave to the elderly man across the parking lot.
There must be time to ask the cashier how her day is going.
There must be time to kiss the man I love before we go our separate ways.
There must be time to notice the ladybugs that flitter across our path.
Because when I find myself thinking there isn’t time to wait as worn-out shoes shuffle across an intersection, to look into hopeless eyes and offer a smile, or kiss the lips of the ones who saved me from my distractions, I might as well strap that ticking clock back around my neck and struggle for my next breath.
But I refuse to life my life by the sound of a ticking of a clock.
The sound of my own steady breath and the heartbeats of the people I love are the sounds that make life worth living.
The Heavenly Prize 