I’m fuming. I rummage through my work tote, turn my workout bag inside out, lift every notebook on my desk, go through the pockets of every piece of clothing in my zone of vision, then my tote again… It’s 5 p.m. I’m standing in the middle of the office dressed for a run, but my AirPods are nowhere to be found—and I can’t possibly leave without them!
Unless I join other people, you’ll not catch me running without headphones. I value my safety, so I keep the volume down and run on trails or sidewalks where I don’t have to be on high alert because of traffic, but I need the distraction. I will even wait around for my AirPods to charge if I must, or go old-school with a corded pair if time is against me. I hate the ways the cord pulls and tangles and twirls, but I hate the silence more. I could go home and find my AirPods, but by the time I do that, all I’ll think about is dinner, and I can’t run when I’m hungry. I’d have to wait to digest the food, and that wouldn’t happen until really late, which would be too close to bedtime. It’s obvious to me that it’s now or never.
There is no helping it: I’m running without earbuds.
I’m determined to physically cover the full four miles as planned, but mentally, I’m over the run before I even finish swinging my legs from side to side to warm up. Cutting the preworkout stretching short, I push against the heavy glass office door with the full weight of my being, turn on my Strava, and with frustration fueling my steps, I take off jogging. No need to prolong this misery.
I let my mind race ahead of my legs so it can keep beating itself up: If I went for a run first thing in the morning before work, like I originally planned, I’d most definitely grab my earbuds on the way out and could keep listening to my current audiobook, Wellness, by Nathan Hill. But I decided to snooze my alarm—multiple times—and instead, I’m now listening to my left sole squeaking (and I’m sure I can even hear the tag of my shirt rubbing against my neck).
Or! If I’d left for a group run over lunch, I would have had company and wouldn’t have needed headphones to begin with. But no, food took precedence, so now I’m left facing my poor decision-making. Serves me right!
It’s just me, the sound of my feet stomping the concrete, and my unhelpful thoughts. I shake out my arms and try to relax my shoulders. I look down at my watch and instantly regret it—what felt like at least 10 minutes (hooours, if I am completely honest) has only been three. If I keep up this attitude, the run will never end.
I turn toward the familiar river trail that continues uninterrupted for miles, my go-to four-mile route I know without having to keep an eye on my watch. I pass another runner who smiles and gives a little wave. I wave back. A flock of birds swoops and swirls on the horizon. The sun has painted the golden-hour sky in every shade of yellow, from citrus to Dijon mustard. It’s a nice day, actually. The babbling stream soon drowns out all the unwelcome noise, first outside then inside my head. Okay, I admit the river makes for a cool soundtrack to match the view.
It’s usually around here, when I pass the old pedestrian bridge, that the familiar ease washes over me: My feet find their rhythm, my gasping breath Or! If I’d left for a pounding heartbeat Published: Aug 13, 2024 8:00 AM EDT.
Not today, though. To my own surprise, my heartbeat actually isn’t jumping off the charts to begin with; it’s been under control all along. Neither my legs nor my lungs are making any complaints. I roll my eyes but also smile. Of course, the run I dreaded turns out to feel like a million bucks.
Just as I get to the point where I normally loop back, the sun starts to color the sky in a pale tint of orange. It’s so pretty, it would be a shame to miss the rest of the show. Without slowing down, I deliberately miss my turnaround point. I think I will keep running for just a little bit longer.
Pavlína Černá, an RRCA-certified run coach and cycling enthusiast, has been with Runner’s World, Bicycling, and Popular Mechanics since August 2021. When she doesn’t edit, she writes; when she doesn’t write, she reads or translates. In whatever time she has left, you can find her outside running, riding, or roller-skating to the beat of one of the many audiobooks on her TBL list.
