In the last year or so of running, I have become pretty accustomed to the periodic admonitions for runners to shed technology. Whether it be stories about freak accidents that surely would not have occurred if a runner had not had ear buds in, records that surely would have been broken had a runner not been suppressed by his Garmin, etc. I take these reports in stride, knowing that they are isolated and at times, maybe even a little exaggerated. But I had to take issue with Bill McKibben's article entitled "Simple Steps," in the November issue of Runner's World magazine, as it crossed the boundary of purism into sheer closed-mindedness. I don't know if it was that the wording was a little stronger than what I'm used to hearing on the issue of running and technology, or if the challenge was broader than what I typically hear, or if it was simply the fact that McKibben brought Henry David Thoreau, one of my favorite American authors, into the argument, but the article did end up rubbing me the wrong way: ascribing running technology to whorish consumerism, implying that "stuff" contributes to the breakdown of the family (are we still talking about Garmins and MP3 players here?). And the straw that broke the camel's back for me was the suggestion that we "leave behind the noise in [our] head[s]." Assuming that Mr. McKibben is referring to the substantial issues with which we deal on a day-to-day basis, I would respond, I most definitely will not. For me, running provides an opportunity to organize noise, to prioritize, to solve problems. This very morning during my run, I experienced a liberating epiphany when I realized that my tunnel vision regarding one particular project was causing another very significant project of personal interest and of pretty serious consequence to suffer. I came up with a solution, and ended my run with even more optimism than I had when I began. Disengage for the sake of disengaging? I'm glad I didn't. And regarding the subject of technology: I know that I will never convince die-hard purists, so I will not even try. I will simply speak from my own experience. I would first say, if your MP3 player is a distraction, then by all means, leave it at home. That being said, one of the most heart-warming experiences I enjoy during a morning run is that of seeing the sun rise behind the clouds to a backdrop of meaningful music. I admit unabashedly that at times, it has literally brought tears to my eyes; more frequently, goose bumps, a smile, and a longing look into the sky. Continuing, I can say without question that next to a good pair of (technologically advanced) shoes, the most valuable purchase I have ever made with regard to running is my Garmin. I learned early on that there is somewhat of an art to using it. Watching it constantly does indeed distract me, so now, I look at it on more of a "need to know" basis. Sure, there is potential for abuse, but I believe that most level-headed runners figure it out. I was surprised that McKibben spoke disparagingly of one of the most valuable functions of a Garmin: "mak[ing] sure that [a run] lives on forever in the memory of your computer." I was surprised, because in performing this function, the Garmin serves as a sort of running journal, which I would think Mr. McKibben would appreciate. Maybe it's just my bad memory, but I am not able to mentally document all aspects of all runs, so the Garmin helps with that. I have looked back on certain running paths, races, paces, etc. many times, and have found the ability to do so quite enriching. Finally, to extrapolate on Mr. McKibben's theories, it would seem to me that in order for one to embrace the animalistic, primal running nirvana purported in the article, the definition of "stuff" (needed to be shed) would have to include necessarily the nice tech shirts we wear...and shorts...and not stopping there, we must say goodbye to our moisture-wicking socks and chafe-preventing Runderwear. And of course, those running shoes crafted to conform to our ragged, runner's feet must also go. But that's not enough. Suburban landscapes covered with manmade buildings, houses, and lights must be foregone and replaced by virgin land (and did someone use a lawn mower/weed-eater/bushwhacker on this grass?? Sorry, that's out too). No cars in the distance. No airplanes flying overhead. No erosion control--after all, there is a great deal of engineering technology put into keeping our neatly cut paths from flooding--but wait, paths cut by shallow tech-loving runners are also off limits. Any path followed must have been cut only by migrating animals or other nude runners (whew, I'd hate to be the first one cutting paths in that tall grass!). Obviously, I am now exagerrating (although I have a pretty sneaking suspicion that a few members of our Runner's World group have probably enjoyed experiences not too far from the scenario I presented). I simply want to make the point that my running experience does not have to be your running experience (or Mr. KcKibben's running experience) for it to be extremely meaningful and compelling. And to blindly draw a solid black line at Technology is a fallacy of monumental proportions. My experience spending one day as deliberately as Nature...settling myself, working and wedging my feet downward through the mud and slush of opinion, and prejudice, and tradition, and delusion...through church and state, through poetry and philosophy and religion, til I hit a hard bottom and rocks in place which I can call reality will include at the very least my running shoes, my MP3 player, and my Garmin. Tapering this week. Four miles Monday, and another four miles today. This morning, because I was running a short distance, and because I was on a very level path, I decided to speed up a little bit in order to give my lungs a good workout leading up to the Route 66. Tomorrow will be notably slower, and that will be it until Sunday. Activity
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