The Path Beneath The Noise
The kids.
The cheers.
The crowds.
The hi-fives.
The jello shots.
The volunteers.
The drum corps.
The announcers.
The piped-in music.
The hand-made signs.
The conversations with fellow runners.
Every touch point is well intentioned and adds just a little bit more to the overall event experience.
In my previous five 26.2 mile laps around Oklahoma City as part of the Oklahoma City Memorial Marathon, I can tell you that these gestures are what make the day so special — millions of small steps forward that collectively shape the event’s spirit of unity and remembrance.
But with all the love and joy and enthusiasm they intend, the *touch-points* can be attention killers.
Last week was my sixth participation in this marathon. An unexpected experience emerged within me and around me. All of the same touch points were present last weekend.
Except for a brief interaction with another runner at mile 14 — there were no words, no gestures, no breaks — the 26.2 miles of mass human movement around me turned quiet.
Then still.
For the first time in a marathon, I discovered a path below the noise.
Miles zero to 13 were as close to a meditative experience as I’ve experienced while being on my feet. The second half of the marathon, I occasionally emerged from this calm place to run simple plays from of the Sunday Morning Joe playbook. If you are a long-time reader, you know them well: the principles of course correction, transition, and discomfort.
My intention to tune out the noise became an opportunity to tune-in to a channel of quiet.
With each step I took forward, and on my way to a personal best at this distance, I managed a different set of key marathon running attributes.
It was NOT the set of talent, skill, and motivation. It was my attention.
Each step represented a conscious opportunity to choose where I directed my attention.
Not that each step was perfect — but I used the 26.2 miles to be fully aware of the moment. When my technique went astray, I was able to respond and shift more quickly.
Staying in the moment became my win. Step after step…
It’s a gift to be able to focus attention in situations where the world is hammering at you. Thirty minutes of guitar practice where you look for the space of silence between each perfect note. The creation of a meal in a kitchen where it is just you and the perfection of dicing and timing. The 15 minutes of quiet time in the middle of your day in the office when you put calls on hold, close the door, and strategize one new idea.
In our lives away from marathons, the cacophony of noise, call to shiny objects, and the onslaught of external and internal feelings often demand that we reciprocate our participation by giving away our attention.
We allow ourselves to be sucked away from the moments that belong to us.
On the sophisticated battlefield of noise versus attention, you must go on the defensive to shield your performance, art, voice, and ideas against the attention killers. At the very same time, you must take offensive measures to outflank those attention killers so as to find the gateway to your path beneath the noise.
Therein resides the win and your personal best, if only for a moment — it’s to be on the path beneath the noise.
With gratitude,
Joe
Hi, I’m Joe. I teach my clients the advanced techniques necessary to reveal talents which have been set to idle due to external and internal distractions.
I, then, transfer my Olympic Gold Medal performance strategies that streamline decision making and actions when engaged in complicated life currents with an aim towards the freedom of playing your own game.
