Your temples are pounding and your heart is about to explode from your chest. Throngs of people surround you and suddenly you realize that you are about to engage in one of the most extreme tests of physical endurance in existence today. Finally, as your anxiety is about to boil over, the shot rings out, and the race had begun.
This fall thousands of people experienced these sensations as they ran the 26 miles that constitute the New York City Marathon. However, the marathon itself is merely the culmination of months of training and preparation. Hours of planning go into each race. But, on the brisk November morning, there is nothing left to do but run.
Numerous questions must come to mind regarding why someone would willfully engage in this modern version of physical torture. My question is: What do these people think about during the hours upon hours that they are running? Honestly, after running more than five minutes sans walkman or iPod, what do these Greek-victory-revivalists think about?
This question popped into my mind last Sunday morning on my own run along the towpath. Then the answer came to me. The question isn't what do you think about; it's what don't you think about. Personally, my runs give me the opportunity to think simultaneously about everything and about nothing. For a few hours, I can just pound the road and escape from papers, precepts and professors.
The towpath and other local routes provide freedom from my everyday life, a place where no one judges, ranks or grades me. In the highly competitive world of this Ivy League school, sometimes I just need a break. Like thousands of marathoners, I find that break on a run.
Now, I am not saying that everyone should wake up early every morning and cram the towpath in search of freedom — I really hope most people don't do this, since I really enjoy running alone. Instead, I advocate finding your personal respite from the Princeton bubble. Be it through exercise, music, writing, sleeping, chatting or partying, once and awhile, everyone needs to find that release valve that allows them to breathe.
While watching the biography of Theodore Geisel a.k.a. Dr. Seuss, I saw how even the most creative minds could experience mental fatigue. After graduating from Dartmouth, Dr. Seuss headed to Oxford to study English. However, he quickly realized that academia wasn't for him since he spent more time doodling in his books than taking notes. Then one day, Dr. Seuss snapped. He walked out during the middle of his Shakespeare lecture and quit school, opting to travel through Europe and discover his true passions. Though this strategy isn't for everyone, I think that young Mr. Geisel was simply in desperate need of a break.
During the second half of this school year, when we have exams or papers looming over us, we should take the time to discover our personal "breaks" from the world. My advice is to explore different methods of release. Find some time to just sit and think. Perhaps we should take a little advice from the Greeks — besides running marathons — and live a slightly more contemplative life.
Or in the eternal words of Ferris Bueller: "Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in awhile, you could miss it."
So, go take a run — and a break. Christina McMillan is a sophomore from Williamsburg, Va. She can be reached at cmcmilla@princeton.edu.
