I love music. I love to sing to music. I love to listen to music while I run. Often, it serves as a sort of background soundtrack to the internal monologue I have going on while I run. Running is certainly my time to think and hash things out, but it is also my time to feel free and happy. I have a wonderful life, don’t get me wrong, but I also have daily stresses and issues that cause me to worry. I mean, who doesn’t? Am I fulfilling all of my obligations as a wife, mother, daughter, librarian, and friend? Am I doing enough? Will I look back on my life years from now wishing I had done things differently? Am I selfish? Do I show my family enough love? Do I work hard enough? Running is my escape from all of this and a chance to hash all of this out in my mind. It’s where I reconcile things and make plans. It’s where I pinpoint the areas I want to change and celebrate the things I’m doing well.
It’s also where I sing with reckless abandon and embarrass myself as others encounter me on my run.
The run always starts out innocent enough. I don my headphones, start up my music, and ease into it. I look around and enjoy my surroundings. I remind myself to relax. Breathe. Relax those shoulders. Relax those arms. Let those feet softly land on the ground with an easy stride. Use those arms appropriately. Relax. Then I start to feel good. Happy. I’m running. I’m traveling by foot. Getting exercise. I’m doing this thing that I love. I’m doing this thing that has brought me an immeasurable amount of joy and satisfaction. I’m going to have a great day. Look how sleepy this town is right now, but I’m out here gettin’ it! This is fun. It’s like I’m accessing a secret portion of the day that others don’t know about. I know something they don’t know. I’m feeling free!
This is when I start singing along to the music pumping through my headphones. Now, I promise, I don’t realize sound is coming out of my mouth. It starts out as lip syncing. I’m enjoying the music so much that I want to sing, but I know that to a passerby that would be weird, so I stifle the sound from coming out. Until I don’t anymore. I actually don’t know when it happens, but I know for certain that it does happen because about seven different people on seven different occasions have told me that I sing as I run. Many of these people were strangers at races. How embarrassing. It’s just like finding out that you talk in your sleep, which by the way, I also do according to my husband and my childhood friends.
So, this whole notion of trying to stifle the song is fascinating to me. Apparently, I have a real urge to sing once I’m lost in my run and completely enjoying myself. The sound just escapes. I don’t exactly realize that I’m making sounds, but it also doesn’t exactly surprise me when I’m told I do this. It just embarrasses me. The fact that I get so wild with reckless abandon that I sing like some maniac is kind of cool to think about … for someone else, but very humiliating when it’s me who happens to be the wild, reckless, maniac.
All of this has made me realize the real reason I run. I think I can finally, maybe, answer the “why do I run?” question in a succinct manner. I run to get out of my head and feel free. You see, I over analyze things in my day-to-day life. I love to analyze things. This serves me well in most situations; however, the constant thinking and dwelling on things does not always improve my mood or well-being. Enter running. When I get in that “zone” while running, my mind is wandering and free. I think about things, but then I jump to other things, and then I get lost in my music. I’m still analyzing things, but I’m doing it in a haphazard, disjointed, wonderful way. Then, at some point, I’m not thinking at all. I’m just moving, enjoying music, and, apparently, singing aloud.
I guess singing, like running, is natural. We can all do it. It’s in our genes. It’s human nature. Singing, like running, opens up a range of emotion and is a wonderful release of passion. Feeling makes us sing and singing makes us feel.
Also, as someone who lives in her head too much, singing while running is where I completely let go of my inhibition. I am fully present in my run. I am a lioness, or a lean, hungry she-wolf, unbridled and free. The running rouses an enthusiasm in me that makes it necessary for me to sing.
So, while it’s embarrassing, if I run near you and I’m really feeling my run, chances are you will hear me singing. 
Lonestar Run Girl 