A Runner's Manifesto: On Writing and Running
1. On Freedom.
Break your chains and claim your freedom. To run, to write—these are acts of liberation. They are the joyous rebellion of loosening the bolts that fasten us to a rigid world. To begin, you must first leave your devices behind; those clever cages that wrap the consciousness in a spiderweb of connection. We shed them for two reasons: first, for the physical weight that hinders your motion, and second, for the mental noise that severs you from your own soul. When you run, when you write, you move not with the world, but against it—against your demons, against the watching eyes that await their approval.
2. On Preparation.
Come ready. Let your gear be a ritual: shorts, shoes, a light shirt, trusty socks, and a bottle of water. Prepare your body and honor your intention; if you plan to run beneath the evening sky, do not exhaust the day’s strength. The world is full of sirens calling you away from yourself, offering excuses draped in allure. But you know the truth: the cure lies in solitude. It is only in the rhythm of your own stride that you will remember the sublime truth: you are not a drop in the ocean, but the entire ocean, contained in a single drop.**
3. On the Goal.
When you arrive at the track or sit before the blank page, set your distance. Twenty laps. Five kilometers. One thousand words. Do not be haunted by time or speed—they are phantoms to the beginner. Your only task is to reach your mark without surrender. You may slow to a walk, you may quicken your pace, but you must not stop. You must keep moving, however slowly, until the goal is met. This is the covenant.
4. On Focus.
Guard your attention. Offer a brief greeting if you wish, but preserve the sanctity of your endeavor. Let your mind remain fixed on the motion, even as it wanders through distant memories, unsolved problems, or simple joys. This is a moving meditation.
5. On Rhythm.
If you run ten laps, walk two, and run eight more, you have run ten laps. You have still traveled twenty, but you have run ten. Running is the continuous thread, not the sum of fragments. The essence is to find your rhythm—that perfect, personal pace where breath and body are in harmony. You are the sole commander of your speed. If you are breathless, slow down. If you are too comfortable, fly faster. Sprinting for mere seconds only to stop is not running. True progress is slow, steady, and unbroken. Remember: great achievements, like writing a novel or running a marathon, are akin to digging a well with a needle. Persistence is the power.
6. On Why We Are Here.
This is the Creative Writing and Running Club because these twin arts demand the same virtues: self-discipline to begin, stamina to endure, and a focused mind to see the journey through. We are not here to craft only better runners, but to forge achievers—not quitters. Those who quit easily never glimpse the vista. This is training for the spirit. It does not promise you will always win, but it vows to teach you this: you will never again abandon a task before it is complete and done well.
7. On the Unity of Self.
We run not for the body alone, but for the mind. We reject the old lie that they are separate. The mind is the invisible part of the body; the body, the visible part of the mind. If you do not feel clearer after running, it may be that your creases are deep. Running is an iron—it can smooth the wrinkles of the day, but it cannot mend a tear in the soul.
8. On Listening to Your Body.
You are a warrior, but not a martyr. If nausea, dizziness, or pain speaks, you must listen. Stop. Drink water. Rest. In our Shenzhen climate, dehydration and heat are serious foes. Honor your goal, but do not injure yourself in its pursuit. A moment of preparation—a glass of water, a visit to the restroom—is an act of wisdom.
9. On Respect and Solitude.
Run with respect for others. Hold your lane. Pass with grace and without disturbance. Do not push, nor pull, nor cut another’s path. Remember: this is a conversation between you and the universe. Do not let others occupy your mind, and do not occupy their lane.
10. On Victory.
When you are done, go home. Wash away the effort. Drink deeply. Rest. Be with those you love, in person, not through a screen. Push no further. Let sleep come early and deep. The next morning, you will awaken not just refreshed, but transformed. You will be happy. And why? Because on Friday, you reached your goal. That simple act places you among the rare 5% who do, rather than the multitude that only talks, complains, and dreams. You are a doer. A finisher. You have the heart of a lion, not the whisper of a mouse.
One day, when you are ready, you will run a marathon. You will feel the weight of a medal on your neck, and you will look back on these words. You will smile, with a touch of nostalgia, and you will understand.
Until that day, run on, write on. Be proud.
October 1st, 2024, Shenzhen
** A concept echoed by the 13th-century Sufi poet, Rumi, reminding us of the universe within.
* A little piece of writing to motivate my students (club members) and to ensure they will come to our Friday afternoon runs, they will run (not walk or stand still) and complete their goals.
