Confessions of a “Hobby Jogger”

To cruise or not to cruise—there is no question.

This is a repost from my Kenetic Substack page that is dedicated to fun, natural movement.

Even though it’s only 7:30am, I’m beginning to regret my slothful starting time this Sunday morning. The sun is already above the roofs on the horizon. The early summer sizzle is beginning to toast my bare shoulders and trigger a salty leak from my brow.

Feeling my lower back relax, I quickly straighten it and level out my pelvis by drawing my navel back toward my spine, aiming to stabilize my entire trunk so everything is supported and free of “energy leaks”—from feet to shoulders. I do this while muttering one of my unofficial coach’s rules: “Hips first—your foot will follow.”

Though I had told myself I’d only breathe through my nose on this outing to keep things easy, speed is beckoning and such breathing is becoming trickier. I keep one eye on my watch’s heart rate gauge, playing the often-losing game of seeing how fast I can go while remaining in “zone 2”—where conversation is just barely possible. Going slow is nice, but going fast is fun.

Once all of the pieces are all working in concert—breathing, supported frame, balanced landings, elastic bounce, cohesion with the elements—I can engage my bodily “cruise control” and simply enjoy the ride. In these moments, it is as though the legs beneath me aren’t mine and I’m cruising along on my own shoulders. These moments only last two to three seconds before my next “systems check,” but hold my running experiences together like links on a chain.

Systems check → notice a misalignment → recalibrate → engage cruise control → repeat.

All happening usually in under 10 seconds. Over and over. Like a surfer always paddling in hopes of catching that wave or a meditator waiting for the lull in intrusive thoughts as well as the right breath that will take them into pure presentness.

Not race results. Not fitness. Not weight loss. Not even personal records.

I run to chase those synchronistic moments of “cruise control”—when the pieces *click* together and I become a passenger of my own body, even if for only a few moments between recalibrations.

But like paddling is a part of surfing the wave, perpetually recalibrating is part of accessing my “cruise control.” And for that reason, it is all fully embraced—no matter how “bad” the run is going. The dogged moments chasing the top of a hill. The elements trying to keep you slow or inside. The soreness after a long-fought session. It is all part of the cruise.

Some may say this style of motivation for running makes me a “hobby jogger”—a less-than-flattering name for a non-competitive runner—so as to imply not a “serious runner,” whatever that means.

And if chasing vibes instead of split times makes me a hobby jogger—or a surfer-of-legs, a chaser of zen, a meditation session to-go—so be it.

If the shoe fits, lace it up and go for a run.

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