My various acquaintances often have asked me what I think about while running, the assumption behind the question being that running is boring and how can I possibly keep myself entertained while cranking out the miles?
The question is difficult to answer because I have the exact opposite experience. Running is not at all boring; it creates my freest mental space—with lucid, unformed thoughts very carelessly linked. I don’t think while running; it would invalidate the point. I do sometimes try to focus the tumbling mental mess, or use the time to think through what I’m writing at work, but only if I need to be specifically productive.
The last week or so I’ve been trying to focus on a particular plant—selecting one weed that is common on my run, trying to spot every time it occurs, and thinking about its shapes, colors, textures.
Written down that sounds very odd, but it is intriguing to realize the abundance of each weed. It seems there is not a great deal of biodiversity among DC weeds.
It is more intriguing to notice how each iteration of the weed grows, next to what, formed like what, tinted how. Observing the regular variation on a common shape has made my runs this past week like listening to Miles Davis or Bach, eyes closed: being guided on a tour of unfixed geometric precision.
Unfortunately, not being musically gifted, I can’t sing for you all the DC Weed Blues.
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