The other day, I went on a 13 mile run with my friend, Greg, in preparation for our next marathon in two weeks. We went on a faster run close to marathon pace, and this run was different, felt different, and changed something important in how I want to press forward in life going forward.

During any run, very normal questions arise, for myself and probably for others, too:

"How fast am I running?"

"How much time is left?"

"How much time passed since the last time I checked my watch?"

Knowing that these questions torture me to answer during any run, I made a resolution: I would not check my watch as much, and focus instead on how I was feeling, what I was talking about with Greg, saying hi to the people we were passing, and anything else besides the numbers and times.

The run ended up being the most pleasant, enjoyable, and fruitful runs I've gone on in a long time, as we ran almost 10 miles continuously at 6-minute mile pace, and it felt natural. During this time, I didn't think about time, and I did my best to not think about pace. All the numbers left my mind as I just let myself be, and press forward unrestrained by time, and I realized why I loved and started running in the first place. I reconnected with who I was, and mentally worked through issues I'd been neglecting.

Normally, I would have checked my watch almost every thirty seconds and tortured myself with the information. I recall my freshman year, running 10,000 meters on the track, and feeling great. I wasn't thinking about time, and I was just running, concentrated on the effort and race in itself rather than how fast I was going through each portion of the race.

I passed through the 5k with my teammate, and my coach yelled our split at us: 16:20. Although I felt great at that point, I didn't have the mental strength to handle the knowledge. 16:20 was my best time in 5,000 meters at that time. I just passed halfway through the 10k faster than I ever had before, and still had another 5,000 meters to go. I broke down almost immediately, prompted by being mentally and emotionally overwhelmed by my awareness of time, and ran the second 5k significantly slower.

I like to think that if I were to run that race today, I would have not been phased by that information in that situation. I believe I wouldn't, either, given how much I've grown.

However, a simpler solution is to not think about the numbers, and not think about time, and just live and be. When I don't, I don't think about what I have to do in the future, where I have to go in 10 minutes, or how much time I have left to sit in a classroom.

There is the adage that time is life's greatest resource, but that's what it is more than anything: a resource. Resources are the means we have to fulfill our needs, but they are not the needs themselves. As such, time is not to be worshipped or thought about all the time, but it is something to be wary of in the periphery.

The last few days, I've been trying to free myself from time, and not check my watch any time I'm among people I love, in church, at work, or in a classroom, and I just feel so liberated. I can focus on the subject matter of whatever I'm talking about, whoever I'm spending time with, or whatever I'm learning instead of how much time has passed

When I run any race, from the 800 meters to the marathon, there's always something I force myself to do: I take off my watch. I hate hearing my splits when I'm running, as I'd rather concentrate on how I'm feeling or the process of running rather than the result of how fast I passed through a certain point of the race.

What numbers and time provide me, and many others, are structure and restraint. Popular culture nowadays prioritizes living in the moment, not dwelling on the past or being anxious about the future. The chorus of Eminem's famous and widely acclaimed song, "Lose Yourself," tells us to "lose yourself in the music, the moment," and that "you own [the moment], you better never let it go."

Letting the moment be defined by anything other than itself, whether that's a time, a number, a grade, or other evaluation is restraining and reducing it. I've allowed myself to lose myself in whatever I'm doing in the present, from the lecture I'm attending to the run I'm

I'm currently taking a class that prioritizes reporting as a facet of good writing, and reporting involves immersion, deep immersion with whatever you're researching, whatever subjects you're writing about. And let me tell you first hand, as a person who perpetually forces himself to be "busy" that knowing you have to leave and rush somewhere else in 5 minutes prevents you from being immersed with anything.

Immersion's etymology is the Latin word, immergere, which combines the roots in (into) and mergere (plunge). To immerse means to plunge into, and how often do we really immerse ourselves into what we're doing? How often do we just sit by the water only dipping our toes, part of our bodies in, but most of our bodies out?

By not letting yourself be defined or even focus on the numbers, you can be comfortable with the unknown. You can be comfortable not knowing, but some would argue that not knowing is ignorance. I argue instead that ignoring the numbers is a way of losing yourself, of letting go of the basic human need to control and put meaning to everything.

Paradoxically, I find not having to be in control all the time, not needing to have absolutely everything together to be liberating. I have no idea what is going to happen a day from today or even a minute from now, but maybe I don't need to know, and maybe in needing to control, we're going about things the wrong way, asking the wrong questions. Maybe what we really want, and what I know I deeply want, is to be there, to be present, to be with people I'm around. I have a tendency to be caught up in my mind and my thoughts, be somewhere else, and not really be engaging with people I'm with.

By living life undefined by numbers, I can finally do it. I can be present, and be there. And I would argue that's what so many of us really want.