On Running Playlists and The Process of Things

I had decided I wouldn’t lie about it if someone asked me point blank which is why when my colleague was making coffee one morning and asked if I had any races coming up, I said, “yes, but it’s a secret.”

Earlier this year, I had my eyes on a number of fall races and when I left for a work trip mid-May, I told myself I would finally choose one when I got home and start training seriously. I came home with a swollen face and a concussion. I didn’t run for almost two months. With my entire base seemingly wiped away by one tiny little brain injury, I assumed my fall race plans were done.

But then again, anger can occasionally be a strong motivator. I was talking to a friend about their fall race plans and suddenly remembered that I wanted to do that too. I wanted to run a fall race. And what, I just wasn’t going to do that because I ran into a glass door at a work event and was out of commission for a hot second? This is the spite marathon, I muttered as I looked for races that hadn’t sold out. 

How quickly it became the joy marathon. But also the secret marathon. I hadn’t told anybody because I wasn’t sure I’d be able to do it and I also didn’t want anyone’s (valid) concerns about whether I was healthy enough to jump back into running to psyche me out more. So I told nobody until that moment in the office kitchen when I admitted that I had a secret marathon. 

Of course, telling one person can occasionally turn into telling six and before I knew it, there was a good circle in my life who knew about the race. Each time I led with, “yeah but nobody knows” everyone’s reaction was basically the same variation of “okay…” because yes, I suppose I was being weird about it. 

A few weeks ago, I got the idea in my head to make a hyper-curated playlist for the race. I ran New York City (my first marathon in 2017) with no headphones which was incredible. I ran Palm Beach Gardens, Florida (in 2022) with a random playlist that my phone probably made for me which was frankly uninspiring. For this race, I became fixated on the idea of a playlist with my favorite songs, timed out to what mile I’d be at (so long as I’m hitting my target pace).

Then, watching the New York City Marathon on Sunday with some colleagues—all of whom know about my race—one suggested gathering songs from friends and family so that when that song comes on, I think of them. Wholesome. 

Except… that would involve telling more people about the race.

I’ve been thinking a lot about the “secret marathon” and this idea of when we share news with the people in our lives. I have found that I often wait until I am on the other side of the thing before I talk to my loved ones about it. I want to be able to paint the whole picture. I want to know how the story ends. 

Years ago after getting out of a very bad relationship, I was catching up with a friend over the phone. As I finished the series of unfortunate events, he took a breath and asked me why I hadn’t talked to him—talked to anybody—sooner. 

Oh, I don’t know, I began with the lightness of someone newly free. 

No, I’m serious, he cut me off. You can’t just be doing this all on your own. You could have talked to me. You could have talked to any of us. 

It was the sincerity that stopped me in my tracks. It was the earnestness that broke down my defenses. It was the promise that we don’t need to have all the answers to begin to solve the problem. 

I opened my messaging app, “I’m running a marathon in a couple weeks. Would you mind sharing your favorite upbeat, happy workout songs? I’d love to think of you when it comes on.”

And responses came. Overwhelmingly so. When is the race? This is such a fun idea! Okay here are my favorites. I can’t wait to hear how it goes!

I wonder, then, if I’ve done myself a disservice throughout the years. In the “bad stories,” how much sooner might I have left unhealthy or unsafe situations. In the “good stories,” how much sooner might there have been cause for celebration and collaboration. 

What does it look like to let people in, not just after the fact, not just when you have a neat and tidy story with a clean moral, but what does it look like to truly let people walk alongside you in every moment?

With 10 days until my third marathon, I’ll give it a shot now. I don’t know how the story ends, but I hope you might be interested in this current chapter. I’m tapering my miles which always feels a little funky. I’m trying to stay up on my nutrition and hydration and rest. And I’m really excited for race day. Most importantly, though, I’d love your song recommendations. And I’d love to think of you in each mile. Thank you for running beside me.