The thought of it probably sounds absolutely off the wall to a lot of people. Like I have possibly lost my mind. Multiple 26.2 races without music? Countless 5ks, 10ks, 10 milers, ALL WITHOUT THE COMFORT OF MUSIC CONSISTENTLY BLASTING IN YOUR EARS AND DROWNING OUT THE SOUNDS OF YOUR OWN WHEEZING BREATHS?? Bonkers, truly. I know people think this, because I have been met with jaws on the floor many times upon revealing this juicy and psychotic detail of my racing regimen. But before you write off ever being able to run a race without your music, listen here to my rationale. It might make more sense than you think.
Freedom
This is one of the main reasons I do not like to run with music. The FREEDOM of it. Don’t get me wrong: I have brought music on my training runs with me. I carried my iPhone in my hand, the headphones’ cords smacking me in my sweaty salty face with every stride. Every now and then a headphone would pop out. I’d have to switch the phone from clammy hand to clammy hand. Even if I had a way to carry the phone, there’d still be a weight on me. I could still feel it on my arm, on my hip. There is still sweat pooling in my ear canals, entrapped by the headphones that don’t quite fit (I am not sure if this happens to anyone else — in college I went to the nurse with a stuffy head one day and she told me I had unusually small ear canals). I still have to worry about setting up my playlist and making sure my device is fully charged, all prior to my run starting before the sun. There is nothing like running wearing nothing but a sports bra, tank top, and compression shorts. You are light, free, not worrying about anything but your body and the pavement.
Awareness
This is a big one that is especially relevant when it comes to running on roads. In fact, some road races prohibit having headphones in at all, simply due to the danger of not being able to hear. Let’s face it: drivers are not always paying attention. They are not always thinking that there is going to be a runner coming up on the other side of the hill, and accidents can happen. In my personal experience, I have come very close to getting hit by a car due to the tall, tall corn that grew by my old house, located in the middle-of-nowhere-Maryland. Cars can’t see you, you can’t see cars, both of you round the corners at the same time. Chilling consequences, and more so for you as the runner. For this reason, I never use music when I train on roads; this way I always know when a distracted driver, or even a driver who is lacking in the ability to see through gigantic corn stalks, is about to whip around the corner.
If you refrain from listening to music during your training runs, it is much easier to go without in your next 5k. In races, it helps to be able to hear the people directing traffic, it helps at water stations when people are all clustered and running into each other and telling you “excuse me”, it helps when someone says “YOU LOOK AWESOME!” as you run past while you smile to yourself and feel a second wind burst through your entire body. It just helps to be aware, and it is always to your advantage.
Camaraderie
Ah yes. The best part of racing. The camaraderie. I first discovered this during my first marathon in 2013, when I hit the pavement at a sub-8-minute pace for the first several miles, and ended up actually seeing the light of death around mile 20. Had I not had the runners on each side of me telling me “You can do it!”, “You’re looking great!”, and “Here, have my Gu packet!”, I am not completely confident that I would have made it through the finish line. And in every single marathon since then I’ve found that my fellow marathoners have been my guardian angels. You’re running 26.2 miles as a part of a family, a community. You’re not running 26.2 miles all by yourself up and down your cul-de-sac. Races can be pricey, so you best be getting your money’s worth!! Take advantage of all of the perks that come with organized racing, including the hundreds of wonderful people who will push you when you feel like you can no longer push yourself. It is an awesome perk.
Appreciation
Despite all those football, soccer, and baseball players with whom I entered into heated arguments in high school (also known as haughty “team sport” participants, who generally scoff at cross country and track, writing them off as running up hills and running in circles, respectively), running IS a sport. The act of running is an aspect of most other sports, yes. You may have to run from one end of the field hockey field to the other. Maybe you have to run from first base to second. But long distance running in and of itself is its own sport, entirely unlike any other sport, requiring some really intense mental energy. It is impressive (this may sound like I am tooting my own horn as a long distance runner myself, and yes I am great, BUT just think about this: how many other sports force you to push yourself to the point where you would rather fling yourself into a pit of recently sharpened razor blades, furious and hungry pythons, and boiling hot magma than continue on, yet you STILL manage to continue on, sometimes for HOURS more? That is impressive, no matter how you slice and dice it). And there is no better way to truly appreciate what you have done after you finish any race, regardless of the distance, than to have been present for every ragged breath. I like to remember every mile of the race, so when I look back I can pat myself on the back a little extra for pushing through, even when I was fully aware of how leaden my legs felt instead of letting my thoughts drift to the lyrics of this song by The Kooks. Other athletes don’t listen to music during their matches, games, tournaments; it would be silly. They need to focus. They need to respect the sport. They need to be present. So why shouldn’t we runners do the same?
All of this being said, I fully respect anyone who wants to listen to music during his or her race. I understand it, I do. This post was in no way meant to arrogantly berate music-listeners, but instead to explain my own preference, and why it will always be my preference. And in my past I have listened to music for countless training runs.
However, races are different. The adrenaline and the spectators are often enough to forget that you don’t have your iPod with you, and water stations are extra easy when you have two hands free to grab two cups: one for you to slurp down your thirsty throat and one for you to pour down your sweaty sports bra. So for me, I’ll continue running empty-handed, with nothing but the sweet sounds of fellow runners’ encouragement, cheering crowds, and my own sobs in the last, painful stretches.
