The Voices In My Head


Do not talk to me immediately after I finish a run. I really don't want to talk to you.

Though normally pleasant in conversation, that all changes after an hour or two of running in solitude. Many runners enjoy their workouts, look forward to them, even. I am not one of those people.

I don't have any action shots, so you get this disturbing
picture from after a run.
After the first half mile of a run, the voices in my head are downright nasty. All I can hear is absolute garbage:

This is all a waste of time.
You're soooooo out of shape.
You're soooooo slow.
You're just going to have a huge meal later anyway. What's the point.
My God, you just got passed by a woman pushing a stroller.
You're stopping for a break NOW? It's only been 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8 miles!

And it just goes on like that, mile after mile. The thoughts are your worst gremlins, let out to play by your increased heart rate. Maybe your better angels are busy keeping your legs moving during a run and simply can't fend off all the negative thoughts.

The phenomenon isn't unique to running. During yoga, the gremlins question my form and mock my lack of calorie burn. No-impact workout machines have no impact, so what's the point?

All of this utter garbage runs completely contrary to my personality outside of workouts. When my pulse is below 100 beats per minute, I'm very upbeat and energetic; it's probably a key reason I've had success in my career. But strap on the running shoes and everything changes.

Certain workouts are OK; speed work on a track is too short for the gremlins to come out and play. That's why I'm the only runner in history who likes doing speed work.

And there are the occasional unicorn runs, where I'm able to let my mind wander as I cruise through a workout running at the pace I want. Those happen a couple times a year.

Usually, you don't want to talk to me immediately after a run. I am mean. I don't want to talk. I am frustrated by having to put up with the gremlins.

I cried a little after my first half marathon. Take that, fucking gremlins.

As Daisy Duke and I watched the start of a half-marathon today, two girls ran by us with bright red shirts and big white letters: "Running Sucks." That's Goddamn right. But we do it anyway. Take that, gremlins.

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