Olympian, just a little

Not everyone can be an Olympian or the first to break the four-minute mile record. Most people don't even run to race; there are no competitors that you're struggling to leave in the dust. There is no overflowing stadium of screaming spectators and bullhorn announcers.

When you watch these videos--ignore the announcers; ignore the crowds. For the runners, all that exist are themselves, those moving trees they're trying to pass, and possibly the music.

Ahem. The music? You know, the victory music--not dubbed-in by the director or playing on the speakers, but in your heart and head. Running your best makes you feel just a little bit like a champion in your own small world and run. It's not about beating the competition; you are the competition. It's not about passing competitors; you're trying to leave the trail in the dust. There's no one in particular watching to bear witness, but you don't need a judge. You don't need to decide if it was a good run; your body will tell you. And when it does, if it's a good run, you don't need Jerry Bruckheimer to step in and cue the soundtrack. There are some--special, few--moments when running makes the tried and abused anthems we hear blaring in the background of inspirational sports movies sound perfectly apropos.

I watched a documentary last night about the music scene in Iceland (which is surprisingly rich and rockin) and one of the musicians said: "Music is the ultimate art form. It passes your head and goes straight to your heart...Music creates a physical response." Now imagine doing something that makes you feel like an inspirational, effusive sports movie soundtrack is springing right out of you, and it's not corny at all.

(FYI: that's why they call it a 'runner's high')



'Do you want to win today?'