Nine miles. That’s where I find my zone on a long run. For the first six or seven miles, I’m chasing thoughts of what I need to do when I get done, planning out my day, figuring out new vlogs, and maybe even solving a problem or two that’s been sitting in the back of my brain for a while.
But by nine miles in, I’m too tired to think anymore, but not so tired that everything hurts yet. It’s a magic moment where everything starts to fade into the background, and all that’s left is the rhythm of step-step-step breathe in, step-step-step breathe out.
I know in a few more miles, the moment will be gone, to be replaced by the complaints of tired legs and sore feet. But those zen miles are what I really run for on the long runs. Achievements are nice, shiny race medals are pretty, but as Doc Hudson once said about the Piston Cup, “it’s just an empty cup.”