Running mind / Running body

Running Body / Running Mind: As far as speed goes, I’m not a spectacular runner. My best marathon time is just under the 3 hours 40 minutes necessary to qualify me for entry into the Boston Marathon. I am certainly not of world record caliber. I am, however, a professionally trained philosopher. So when runners make statements about the relationship between the mind and the body, a perennial topic in philosophy, my ears prick up.

Compare these two statements, both made by runners. The first is from Yiannis Kouros, many time world record holder in ultra distance events. The second is made by well-known running author (and lay-philosopher) George Sheehan.

Kouros: “Some may ask why I am running such long distances. There are reasons. During the ultras I come to a point where my body is almost dead. My mind has to take leadership. When it is very hard there is a war going on between the body and the mind. If my body wins, I will have to give up; if my mind wins, I will continue. At that time I feel that I stay outside of my body. It is as if I see my body in front of me; my mind commands and my body follows. This is a very special feeling, which I like very much… It is a very beautiful feeling and the only time I experience my personality separate from my body, as two different things."

Sheehan: “Choose the body. Not to the exclusion of mind and soul but in conjunction with them. To see oneself as an evolving whole. Body and mind expressing the personality that is the self… The body cannot be ignored. The body is me, I am my body. We are wholes. Body, mind and soul.”

That’s the problem with introspection (“phenomenology” in philosophical jargon); reality can appear differently to different people or even to the same person under different circumstances. To a person who believes in dualism, the theory that the mind and body are distinct things, the fatigue and sometimes pain of long distance running might make it seem as though mind and body are separate. The mind feels curiously light and free, while the body feels dragged down in agony. This happened to me only once when running. It was during my last long training run before my very first marathon. Later that day (April 30, 2006) I wrote in my running journal: “I think I only understand Cartesian dualism now – when my body was really tired, my mind was light and clear – they seemed completely distinct.” So, in my own small way, I know what Kouros is talking about.

But as Sheehan’s comments reveal, that’s not the only possible take on the subject. To those who are more inclined to see body and mind as integrated rather than separate, the body may be capable of exertions that we sometimes undermine with our own protestations. I’ve had this feeling too. During an ultra, my mind, my verbal thought, will sometimes say “I’m so tired! This sucks!” Sometimes I’ll even say it out loud. But when I take a moment to survey my bodily condition, I often find that my legs feel fresh, my feet aren’t sore, I’m not hungry or thirsty or in pain. Psychologists tell us that we often undermine our own goals with negative “self talk,” the stream of verbal thought that runs through our conscious minds most of our waking lives. By making an effort to still these complaints and replace them with positive thoughts, many find their bodies are capable of much more than their conscious minds lead them to believe.

This hardly solves the metaphysical debate surrounding dualism. But it raises an important ethical question concerning how we understand and care for our bodies. Should we think of our bodies as something separate from ourselves, as a source of weakness, which in ultras we seek to overcome by dissociating from our physical selves? Or to dominate in a “war” between body and mind? Or should we think of the body as an integral part of one's self, that is stronger than we often think and sometimes capable of much more than we can imagine?

I opt for the latter view.

Kouros may be an exceptional runner, but I take issue with his depiction of the body as something to wage “war” against. To me, Sheehan’s got it right. There is a real sense in which “my body is me, I am my body.” This is perhaps especially the case for runners and other athletes, for whom their physical selves in part define who they are. After all, we cannot run without legs and feet and physical hearts that pump blood.

If we see our bodies as obstacles to be overcome, as a source of weakness, then we are denying an integral part of our self. As the expert yoga teacher BKS Iyengar put it, “even as something as subtle as mind depends on health and energy, and they start in the garden of the body.”