Do you sometimes forget to breathe?

As I sit to write this article, I can feel my breath getting shallow and tight—moving from my belly to a place higher in the chest. What’s happening?

Maybe it’s the four cups of coffee. More likely, my anxiety is rising—and my breathing along with it—because I’m getting to the part where I work.

The reading and research are done. I’ve paced and pondered, delayed and distracted. My brain knows the difference between planning and execution, and is responding with some unsettling biological changes.

I have a choice here. Retreat to the easy stuff, or stay connected and lean in.

It’s the same on runs where we get out of our comfort zone. Ever been cruising along, lost in thought, when a sudden urge to inhale jolts you back to the present? With a gasp and a gulp, you recenter.

“The tools we need to become present are built into our biology. One of them is an action so basic that we usually forget we’re doing it: Breathing.”
~ Amy Cuddy

With apologies for the clickbait headline, we can lose track of our breathing, but we can’t really “forget” to do it.

Inhaling and exhaling—two elegant lines of code in the human operating system—are fully automated. We can go through entire days and perfectly enjoyable runs without giving them a thought.

But what if we could be more connected to our breathing? Could we elevate running to a kind of moving meditation? Might enjoyment and performance increase?

Let’s explore.

The Science (but only a little)

Here’s how respiration works in running: Inhaled oxygen enters the bloodstream, where it’s transported to muscles and used to metabolize fuel (glucose and fat) to produce ATP, the energy that powers muscle contractions. Carbon dioxide, a byproduct of the energy production, is expelled through exhalation.

Breathing impacts our running in two ways: Performance and perception.

Performance

In The Science of Running, Steve Magness writes, “Ask almost anyone what limits running performance and the inevitable answer is oxygen.”

Within this generality exists a spectrum, where every runner experiences different impacts. Magness continues, “Workouts can be designed to address the specific limitations for each individual … some will have problems with oxygen utilization while others might have an intake limitation.”

Of course, we can’t separate the physiological from the psychological. The central gov’na (I like to say that in a British accent) also has a seat at the table.

Perception

The brain, in addition to serving as CPU for the body’s automations, is constantly signaling our conscious awareness. Breathing, if we pay attention to it, is a good feedback mechanism.

In Run Elite, Andrew Snow gives an example: “Go outside and run down the street as hard as you can for five seconds. If you stop at the five-second mark … You will not be out of breath, and therefore you’ll know that it wasn’t very hard.”

Need a visual? Think of an air compressor. Breath is both the regulator (performance) and the readout (perception). Knowing that we have access to the controls and the displays, how can we tap in to the potential?

Interrupting Default Mode

The baseline state of our brain when we're not focused on external tasks is called “default mode.” It’s when our ego runs the show, pulling us along from thought to thought, usually in a self-referential way (worries, fantasies, preoccupations).

There’s nothing wrong with default mode. It’s important for creativity, spontaneity, introspection, and planning. But, if we hope to understand and use our breath in running, we have to override this network.

I love the way journalist-turned-mindfulness-mentor, Dan Harris, describes it…

As Harris says, “When you tune into the raw data of your senses, you’re turning off the default mode. You’re letting the world change you.”

Connecting Mind to Heart

Why, as runners, would we want to let the world change us? We’re about objectives, plans, and systems! Rigid is tough, right?

At the risk of giving what Dan Harris might call “annoying advice,” I’ll suggest that flexibility is a better goal than brawn. Rather than pushing against circumstance with all our might, we should allow ourselves to be changed with each step.

So, we want to be flexible and open to change. But how?

Here’s something I learned in many failed attempts at sobriety: We can’t intellectualize our way to change and we can’t muscle it. Transformation only happens when we link the thinking mind with the feeling heart.

As it turns out, mindful breathing opens the brain-heart pathway we need to bridge the mental with the emotional.

Facing Fear and Anxiety

Runners are an anxious bunch. Our tendencies to structure and compulsion—often outsized responses to fear—have a home in running’s controllable rituals and quantifiable results. In this sport, many of us have found a way to manage our anxiety.

Still, we’re human.

Our brains leap from our skulls, sprout cartoon legs, and run ahead of us down the road, hollering back, “I can see this is going to be too difficult for you.” Or, they screech to a halt and berate us from behind, “You could have trained harder.”

Remember the beginning of this article, when what Steven Pressfield calls “Resistance” threatened to shut down my writing before I started?

The same voices of doubt and fear—whether from a fictional future or a past we can’t change—chirp at us when we run, creating tension. Tension is the enemy of running lightly. The best way to tamp down these voices is by anchoring to the present.

“When we concentrate on our breath, we’re not carried off by thoughts about the past or the future. We should learn how to breathe to release tension and embrace painful feelings.”
~Thich Nhat Hanh

When we learn how to breathe, we’re able to quiet our mental chatter and tune into deeper feeling states. Rather than being hijacked by anxious thoughts—brains skittering ahead or behind—we’re moored in the moment, where there is only this footfall. This breath.

It’s a worthy pursuit. Let’s see if we can nudge closer.

Creating a Breathing Practice

People have known the benefits of mindful breathing for thousands of years. There are a wealth of viewpoints, from ancient pranayama breath control, to more recent research around the biological mechanisms of vagal tone and heart rate variability.

Frankly, I don’t know much about these, but you’ve got the links. Get after it.

What I do know is that twice-daily Headspace meditations in a darkened bedroom helped me quit drinking. Showed me a craving-fighting tool I always carry. And I know that when I’m faltering on a long day running in the mountains, gentle awareness of my breathing brings me back.

We have a full palette from which to paint an individualized breathwork practice. We can blend somatic and spiritual, pop culture and primordial, finding the mix that suits us best.

Keep it light, keep it fun, keep coming back.

“Build your practice on pleasure. Don’t be reverent. Be alive.”
~ Natalie Goldberg

I’m only just beginning my own exploration of breathwork in running. Below are a few things I’m trying that might spark your interest. What could you incorporate today? The key is to stay curious and open to possibility.

Before Your Run

The minutes before we step out the door are precious; a chance to release whatever we were doing before and make generous space for the thing we love. At 50, I wouldn’t dream of skipping the warmup. It’s become a part of the running ritual I look forward to, and lately, a time to befriend my breath.

Try this:

• Notice. From where in the body does your breath originate? Are the breaths short or long? From the belly or higher up? Place your hand in the spot. Feel it move. Stay there for a few breaths. No judgments or changing, only noticing.

• Meditate. Breathe in to a count of 4, hold for 2, then exhale to a count of 6. Repeat a few times. I once heard that focusing on the tip of the nose helps us sink into the breath, and it works for me. Feel the air moving past that spot.

• Set an intention. Before stepping outside, repeat a simple phrase like, “I will notice my breath today.” Place a sticky-note reminder by the door. Heck, stick a bunch around the house. I did this for a journaling exercise I’m working on. They’re everywhere (because compulsion), and they help.

During Your Run

Here’s where it gets real. With so much stimulation happening all at once (Is this an injury? Squirrel!), staying with the breath is challenging. Plus, one of the reasons we run is to disconnect, so it can feel counterintuitive to tune in.

Try this:

• Early: Feel. For many of us (but be sure to read “Plot Twist” below), the first few minutes of a run are our best chance to keep breathing at the forefront. Here, before things get tough, try to really feel the breath. Bring your intention—and your sticky notes—to mind.

• Middle: Use data. Do you periodically look at your heart rate while you run? If so, check in with your breath at the same time. Notice correlations between heart rate zones and the quality of your breathing. We don’t want the data to tell us how we feel. It’s more like a signpost: You are here.

• Late: Shrink. There’s a writing exercise called “the one inch window,” where you describe a scene as if viewed through a tiny porthole. Late in your run, as fatigue sets in, tighten the focus. Imagine viewing the road or trail ahead through a one inch window. Now, senses drawn in, reconnect with your breath.

After Your Run

It’s easy to get lost in the afterglow of a nice jog and slip into mindless relaxation or the day’s next activity. But part of creating a sustainable practice involves integrating what you experienced.

Try this:

• Reflect: Ride the endorphin wave straight to your writing device of choice and journal. Climb in to the scenes as you remember them, Recall the quality of your breathing. Describe it—smooth, strained, steady, shallow—but avoid judging as good or bad. Stay open: “I wonder what would happen if ____.”

• Recover: Lay down and do nothing (I know, right?) for five minutes. Feel where your breath is originating from and place a hand there.

• Carry on: Consider ways to continue mindful breathing outside the context of running. The more often you can hook yourself to your breath in daily life, the more natural it will be to do it while running.

Plot Twist

Preparing for this piece, I asked Threads:

Have you ever felt like you “forgot” to breathe on a run? Do you try to stay conscious of your breathing, or do you leave it to the body's intelligent automation?

It became an illuminating conversation. One response challenged my narrow perspective and entire approach to the article:

A reminder that every person’s experience is unique. While I strive for a deeper relationship with my breathing, someone else would appreciate a break from having to think about it.

I’ll remember this interaction and strive to widen my aperture.

Read the Thread here.

The Finish Line

The rhythmic dance of breath and stride is more than mere mechanics. In it, we find a profound presence. A treasure trove of performance potential and inner calm.

I’m not an exercise physiologist, TikTok fitness influencer, or any other type of subject matter expert. I’ve done just enough musing on breathing to begin drawing lines to joyful, sustainable running—because, to me, that’s the good stuff.

What say you? Please share your thoughts and experiences in the comments.

Run lightly,
-mike

Running Lightly is building a community interested in the soul beneath the surface.