What is the difference between being mindful and being conscious? A runner's question

A nice day on the Mawson Trail

It seems that there are different ways in which people use or understand the word “conscious”. In some contexts it seems to have more weight. It is very focused and intense; it takes a lot of energy; it involves mental struggle and toil; it’s tiring. In this sense it can sometimes include a sense of self-consciousness. It can mean being very clear and disciplined in your relationship with your own mind. "Stay focused," you tell yourself, on the breath, or the hips, or the feet.

In other contexts it is lighter, like being conscious that your clothes fit well or that it's a nice day.

So the differences between being conscious and being mindful depend on how one uses the words.

It seems to me, though, that there are people who think that there are only two ways to think: either you are conscious in the sense of being focused, attentive and self-conscious, or else you are not thinking at all.

Matt Fitzgerald, in Run: The mind-body method of running by feel, seems to me to think this way. Even though he has written a book about listening to your body, at one point he argues that one cannot pay attention to the stride in order to improve it. He argues that this has to be an unconscious process and that it can only be developed by doing high mileage training, varying ones training, and running near exhaustion. The only other option to unconsciously letting your body's natural stride ripen under these training conditions, he says, don't work. The Pose Method, The Chi Method, and in fact any method where a person consciously tries to run differently to how his or her body tends to run naturally, will simply lead to awkward, self-conscious, poor and inefficient technique.

To me this seems to be a failure to see another way. For Fitzgerald there is either thinking or not-thinking. End of story. And his version of thinking is stiff, artificial and awkward. Of course it doesn't work.

But when he says early in the book that runners should listen to their bodies, how does this listening happen? How does a runner "do" this listening? Does she interrogate each part of her body like a drill instructor at an army training camp? "ARE YOU OKAY HIP FLEXOR?" "SIR. YES, SIR!" "LEFT CALF?" "SIR. NO, SIR! FEELING A LITTLE TIGHT, SIR!"

No. The process isn't that focused or self-conscious. It is just awareness: a sense of calm attention that allows impressions in the body to arise and be received in the brain. It's only with this kind of light touch that runners can run joyfully and still recognise that they are running joyfully. With this calm awareness runners can feel their way into their own bodies and experience the feeling of running. This is the other way. To sound really Zen, it is not thinking, but it's also not not-thinking, either. But it's not some esoteric obscure experience: people do it all the time every day. You can be aware of whether your clothes fit or if it's warm or cold without having to focus on it. The answer to the question is already there when you ask it. You don't have to search for it. But you don't walk around unable to do anything else because you are busy thinking about how well your clothes fit or whether or not it's a nice day.

But this calm awareness, this open, receptive, already knowledgable state, is something that can be practiced (and therefore used to improve your running). Being mindful is the word I think gets used, or used best, to describe this state of awareness.

I agree with Matt that what he calls "consciously meddling with your stride" (eg. using the Pose Method or Chi Running techniques) leads to a self-conscious form of awareness, and that this doesn't help improve running form precisely because the neuromuscular combinations that need to fire to create a beautiful running stride are far more complex than the gross suggestions our conscious brains can come up with. If I run thinking - or perhaps "worrying" is the right word - about keeping this particular joint aligned in this or that particular way, the result is generally tension. My guess (from personal experience) is that trying to run the way these books or coaches suggest tends to make people feel and run like robots. The fluidity and beauty of the stride gets lost in a big ugly mechanical jumble. It seems that the main comeback at this point is that any change in technique takes a while to get used to: different muscles are being used; you're used to sitting in a chair; it'll take a while before it begins to feel natural…

To me all these comments are covers for bad teaching. Again, I agree with Matt, that there are so many different types of bodies that it seems near absurd to suggest that everyone should run in exactly the same way.

But there are different ways to create awareness in someone. If I say "I want you to stand with your neck extended, your ears above the centreline of your shoulders, your shoulder blades drawn down and in, your tummy tucked in…" etc etc, then I will probably create one kind of response. If I simply ask you to push down on the ground with your feet and then relax and stand comfortably, then I create a different kind of response. Both involve being conscious, or aware, of what's happening in the body. But the first is, I think, inevitably self-conscious. The second can be more mindful. Can be: it is tricky to try to suggest how this might be conveyed to each individual using just one example, but I hope you get the idea. The second gives the conscious mind the ability to ask the unconscious mind to sort something out. It is as if the mind asks the body, with respect, to push in to the ground and then "find me the most comfortable way to stand." What this is, or how it comes out, can be sorted out by the body, with awareness simply saying "more ease please… tension here… that's better… good… a bit of tension here…. release that… good… relaxed. Done. For now." The body is always dynamic and changing, so that kind of mindful awareness allows for that. Perhaps what is comfortable now isn't comfortable in five minutes. Then, using the same principles, one moves. Easy. It is the awareness, not the posture itself, that is called up and which that kind of coach is trying to develop.

In some ways I think the kind of self-consciousness Matt sees arising from The Pose Method is the same as what I see arising from Alexander Technique. Alexander Technique is a formal, prescriptive methodology for describing how people should develop perfect posture. It doesn't work for me. Feldenkrais uses a different method of achieving the same end. Feel it. Test it. Feel it. Try something else. Feel that. Become aware of the differences. Which is better? Easier? Smoother? More effortless? There are no prescriptions for what the end result should be, only that you should develop to a high degree your ability to be aware of the action and its effects. For this reason Feldenkrais can be used with people with chronic injuries, imbalances, tensions or disabilities without varying the principles. If I have bad knees or it feels better to run with my shoulders up, then look after your knees, or run with your shoulders up. But in the process, become very aware of what does and doesn't work and eliminate everything that doesn't support flowing, graceful, effortless movement.

This is a state of very mindful awareness. It is the opposite of the kind of complete unconscious, inattentive state that Matt prescribes. And I think that he prescribes it simply because he is caught between thinking and not thinking and doesn't really have a third choice. He suggests that "better runners don't have to think as much about running while they run, and indeed the very unconsciousness of their running is a major aspect of their superior efficiency." Cool. That works. Except that I bet it's wrong.

Again, this analysis stays stuck between thinking and not-thinking. I bet that every good runner knows it the moment they are not running well. I bet she can tell to within a split second the moment she lost or regained that feeling of flow, of ease, of effortless speed, that we are all aiming for. The awareness of elite runners is not a state of blind, busy-looking-at-the-scenery, unconsciousness. It is highly developed mindful sensitivity to the condition of the body and its functioning. It is not an exhausting "thinking" state, but to the beginner it may be. It may be weird to try to work out and pay attention to what creates ease and effortlessness. I once coached a girl who could not consciously relax the muscles in her ankles. She had no sense of internal awareness that gave her access to the muscles in her ankles. For her it was all completely unconscious. As a result, she couldn't tell if she was running light or heavy, better or worse. Until that kind of sensitivity - consciousness, awareness - is developed, then it's hard for people to becomes artists of the body in the way great runners are.

So this is a skill that can be practiced, and it can improve the effectiveness of every training session, of every moment you move or rest. Awareness of what is happening and what kinds of sensations and outcomes each action creates is a skill. One that at first feels awkward but which can become second nature. Like running itself it does require practice, but it does become second nature relatively quickly. In fact, as I mentioned, most people probably have a degree of it already, so the action is familiar and just needs to be developed.

The art of this practice is in getting out of the way. In my experience this applies to both the mental acts involved but also to the development of specific movements, like striding. (In my case, the breakthrough learning came while trying to recover a lost naturalness to shooting a basketball, but that's another story.) Great strides generally have a few things in common: they have very little excess, inefficient or unnecessary movements, and they involve very very little excess, inefficient or unnecessary mental or neural effort. In short, they flow. But saying it this way - that they have very little excess - gives us something to do. If we say: great runners have short, efficient strides, we are quickly stuck in a self-conscious, bolt-on, aping of what works for someone else. If we approach it by simply becoming attentive and trying to get rid of everything that doesn't work for us then we are, by default, left with only the elements that help us go forward as fast and easily as possible. What that particular stride looks like, who cares? It will be the stride that is, for us, our most beautiful.

For now! As we run our miles of trials we learn more. Each moment is a new moment and if we are attentive we can learn from it. Matt writes that some scientists he knows

are working to develop a tool that will enable runners to continually measure their running economy in real time. With it, any runner could get instant instant feedback on the effect of any particular stride manipulation. Once this tool is in widespread use, we may discover that some particular stride tweaks do immediately boost efficiency for some runners.

He concludes dismissively: "However, I doubt we will find many."

I get his point. I'm sure you do, too. The human brain works well and running is a complex task that takes miles, and years, of practice to get a feel for. But my opinion is that he overlooks the fact that this tool that these scientists are developing already exists. It's called us: the interactive body-brain unit that experiences and evaluates everything we do. It operates all the time and is the reason people improve in response to training. But how well we evaluate and then respond to those experiences depends on our level of mindful awareness. And this part of our mind-body experience of running that can be trained. We can become more sensitive, mindful, or aware and it will improve the productivity of the miles we run.

Post script

For some people, even those who run lots for a long time, unless they consciously practice awareness itself they may never develop an awareness of their bodies. They may run and run and run and they still won't improve their strides. They may simply develop habits that never get noticed, but which cost them energy, time and may even get them injured. While the natural answer may be to develop awareness, an equally logical and perhaps more common answer would be to simply plug into their iPods, look at the scenery and hate running, but continue to do it because it's the only exercise they have access to, can afford or think keeps the kilos off their waist. If this person approached his or her running with mindful awareness, then things might open up.

And if perhaps their bodies do learn unconsciously, and gradually things do change, think of all the miles and hours and injuries that might have been saved or avoided if they'd practiced mindfulness along the way.