The strangest thing happened to me on my lunchtime run today. I decided to give my MP3 player another chance, so I wore it around my neck, put the earphones in, but I held on to it with a hand (the small pen drive dangles to my belly button when it’s on the neck strap) so that it wouldn’t swing into something and shut off. It operated perfectly. That’s not the strange part.

The strange thing is that with the music blasting in my ears, the run was totally, completely effortless. The whole experience was unreal. My feet fell into pace with the music, as with my breathing. The music was providing so much energy that I felt like I was just bounding along. I could’ve been walking for all the effort exerted in the run. Because I couldn’t hear the pounding of my feet on the treadmill over the music (nor my breathing, for that matter), I felt like I was bouncing along on air. So much of exercise is mental. Four miles flew by, I never was out of breath, I felt like I could’ve increased the speed but I didn’t want to push it. Because the treadmill faces a mirrored wall, I watched myself glint with sweat and was fascinated at the feel of perspiration that seemed so out of place because my body wasn’t complaining at all about being hot, tired, or pushed. It was like, “Why’m I sweating? I’m just hanging out here.”

Maybe the music drowned out the little whiny voice that complains of being tired or bored. My energy did seem to wane in between songs when I was able to hear the impact of my feet on the treadmill and the hardness of my breath. Or maybe there was something in the pastries that my reporter brought in this morning which she made over the weekend. Hmm…