Originally Posted in Terrain Magazine
The Runner’s High: That’s why we all run, right? Lace up, hit the ground, push ourselves all for that sweet bit of…hmm, what exactly is a runner’s high?
Google “runner’s high” and the most legit definition is very scientific while still lacking explanation as to whether you are going to feel euphoric, delirious, or even just really good. In other words, it seems that this feeling is indescribable, but maybe graspable.
Sometime in college, I realized that not everybody ran. So when I first started sharing my running with others, often over a drink, pre-social media (well ok, we had IM and Myspace was becoming a thing), I always got the same questions: “Oh, you go for the runner’s high?”; “Do you get a runner’s high?”; “Heeey, what’s a runner’s high like?” I always felt weird saying, “Uh, I don’t know.” But that was the case, having run fairly regularly since the 7th grade, I never looked at aspects of running as ones that would be considered anything other than a stage of suckiness or a stage of “Oh, running, how I love thee!”. As I have gotten older, I guess I have paid more attention to those swings of emotional high and low that come with running.
Running provides a great coping mechanism for me. I often make peace with a disappointment or loss through running. Sometimes though, I unintentionally close a difficult chapter while out logging miles. One 20 mile run that I did this year was really just the pits. I had 4 miles left and, had quitting not meant I was stranded out in a cornfield, I would have just stopped, but I started thinking of a close departed friend (and previously accomplished distance runner) and I felt almost as if he were there with me. I was overcome with emotion, started really pushing the pace and felt a huge weight crush into my chest around the same time I realized that I had tears running down my face.
Runner’s High?
I have had speed days where I feel like I am flying, really toeing the line of that sub-6:00 mile, focusing solely on speed not even footfalls. Every skin surface tingles, all my muscles work in unison, the feeling of unhinged strength and ability. This is where I am supposed to be, this is what I am supposed to be doing. I am the shit.
Runner’s High?
From time to time, after a nice steady hill climb, when things start to feel as if you are just stuck in the same upward motion, I ask myself, “Sheesh, do I really want to be on this hill ALL day??” So, I push it, I stress my heart and turn off the pain receptors in my brain, and I go faster, uphill. It is hard to breathe, it is touch and go as to whether I will survive standing up, but as the hill levels I feel good...REAL good.
Runner’s High?
After a long run, I can label myself as fairly useless for the remainder of the day. Sure, I can handle obligations with farm and family. I can take on a few non-essential tasks, but I am sure that more than one bystander is like, “Really, that woman forgot how to use her pen”. I might start talking and all of the sudden that quick little tangent ends up being “a thing” that I want to discuss at length and research and potentially invest in. Crazy stuff. I am often thankful that I am able to drive without injuring myself or anyone else after particularly exhilarating mileage. Delusi-run-al.
Runner’s High?
Well, it has taken me years of running to quantify what exactly MY runner’s high is, and that might not come close to what is expected from another person’s experience. My runner’s high is a kind of gratitude. I am just so darn thankful for EVERYTHING. It’s an intense feeling, all while my body is running at a pleasantly sound mode. It sometimes only last a few seconds but I am happy to acknowledge it and I realize it is a little gift (just for me) arrived at due to a little push (from me). I can recall moments over my life where I felt very much in peak form and this “buzz” feeling certainly accompanies that. But, as for a high, I don’t know. Maybe I still haven’t gotten that. I don’t get asked about it much anymore as I tend to share my experiences and accomplishments via Daily Run Club, or with other runners. This way, I keep my poor extended family from asking questions like, “8 miles, oh my gosh, you are going to kill yourself?!?” or “Oh, I see, you go for the runner’s high?”
Get out there, get your run on.
Meghan McCarrick lives in Washington, Mo., eats copious amounts of kale and runs 30 to 50 miles a week, usually with her dog, Magpie.
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