My fellow 18,000 participants in next month’s Long Beach Marathon know this, and it’s just as true for non-runners. Whether applied to a marathon, a business, or your life, there are essentially two kinds of running: “running from” and “running to.”
Years ago, I found myself looking out from a prison cell in London’s infamous Wormwood Scrubs prison. Craning my neck against the barred window, I was just able to see the corner of an expansive park beyond the prison walls. Compared to the drab grays that permeated my cell, the green grass looked more than simply alive—it seemed to represent life itself. I closed my eyes and imagined running across the park, breathing hard, free to roam.
At that stage, any running I had done had been entirely of the “running from” variety: from police at street demonstrations; ahead of foxhounds and huntsmen, seeking to throw them off the scent of their prey; and, of course, from myself, my life, and my responsibilities.
As I peered between the prison bars, I knew it was time for change. “When I get out of here,” I said to myself, “I want to put my head on the pillow at the end of each day, knowing I have made the very most of that day that I can.”
The journey from “the Scrubs” to Long Beach is a story for another day. It’s a good one, including a chance meeting in a small English village, six months of in-depth interviews at the American embassy explaining my colorful past, and an apartment wedding facilitated by an inebriated minister found in the Yellow Pages!
After immigrating to America, I discovered the power of running anew: as an agent of change. But for a former 60-a-day smoker, addict, and alcoholic, running even a mile initially seemed a tall order. Then I discovered the running world’s philosopher writer, Dr. George Sheehan.
“If you want to win anything—a race, yourself, your life—you have to go a little berserk,” he wrote. That was something I could work with. One mile became five; five became ten; ten became a first marathon.
Most of my thousands of miles have been logged on the Long Beach shoreline or on the horse trail that runs next to the L.A. river. Along the way, my running has become the “running to” kind. As I have run towards the life I want, my life’s greatest challenges have been unable to keep pace. Addictions, broken promises, missed opportunities, and bad habits and moods have all been washed away by the sweat of a good run.
It’s no secret. Numerous studies show that exercise stimulates neurotransmitters (serotonin, dopamine, epinephrine, and beta-endorphin), which elevate mood and reduce depression and anxiety. Get enough of them and you’ll experience what’s known as runner’s high. In a recent test at Penn State University, Jeffrey Freemont and Dr. Linda W. Craighead showed that exercise can be just as effective as individual therapy in treating depression.
In the rhythm of my runs, however, I have found something more than a runner’s high. I’ve found new ways of seeing the world—a more peaceful way of being. It feeds me as a father, as a husband, in my work as a business and life coach, as a mentor, and as a member of my community.
For you it may not be running. It may be walking, dancing, roller-blading, kayaking, yoga, or lawn bowling. Whatever your preference, a regular commitment to physical exercise offers a foundation for life transformation. It builds the mental muscles required to establish dominion in consciousness at all levels. It enhances the ability to responsibly pursue favorable emotions as well as the early elimination of negative ones.
Along with my fellow runners in the Long Beach Marathon, I’ll no longer be running from anything. I’ll be running towards the very best I can be.
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