Where the hell is my 'runner's high'?

Many people talk of the rush of pleasure, the euphoric hit, that you experience when you do enough running. But I'll believe it when I see (feel) it.

Whenever I used to meet someone who’d run a marathon¹, I would always, after expressing my admiration for their impressive physical feat, make the same joke.

“You ran 26 miles² in one go? I haven’t run 26 miles thus far!”

As in, for my entire life to date, if you totalled up the amount of distance I’d covered via the act of running, it would fall significantly short of 26 miles, the length of the standard marathon.

Granted, nobody every laughed at this witticism. Probably because I always had to include the follow up explanation, which is always a death sentence for a joke. Humour that requires an appendix is not worth bothering with.

But I ended up abandoning the joke in any case, because it was no longer correct. And while I’m aware that “being factually correct” is in no way a mandatory requirement for a joke (quite the opposite), I’m still me, and I have a brand to protect.

What I’m getting at is, just over a year ago at the time of writing, I started running regularly. And I’ve somehow managed to keep this habit up, On average, I’m doing a 5k run, 3 times a week, around our local lake, which provides some very pleasant visual stimulation for an otherwise gruelling experience.

Because I maintain I’m not a ‘natural’ runner. I am seriously overpronated, thus have barely any arches on my feet. I am, shall we say, of ‘wider stature’ than many, so not exactly aerodynamic. My oversized head tends to sweat copiously, and it runs down my face and blurs my already-seriously-myopic vision.

So yeah, I maintain I’m not especially suited to running. And, truth be told, I still don’t really like it. I just do it.

Why do I do it? And why do I persist, despite everything I just said?

Photo via Daniel Reche

Well, I started because my personal trainer, Dylan, told me I should. Or, more accurately, told me I will. Thinking back, it wasn’t presented as an option. Just a fact.

That’s why I get on with Dylan. Some people seem to prefer trainers who are lively, excitable, exude bonhomie, and constantly bellow support, motivational catchphrases, and other stuff like that. Each to their own, of course, but to me, such an approach is like gnarled fingernails down the blackboard of my soul.

Because I am an experienced neuroscientist who is also an out-of-shape middle aged man. I need neither to be patronised, nor treated with kid-gloves for the poor decisions that left me needing someone else’s help with getting in shape.

As it turns out, one of my strengths in the whole “getting in shape” effort is my complete willingness to accept the instruction of those who know better. I suspect I’m so deeply worried about becoming yet another “balding middle-aged straight white guy with a media profile who assumes he knows everything about anything”, that I instinctively do the opposite, and assume I’m ignorant about any area I’m not specifically trained or experienced in.

Therefore, when a qualified trainer says “Do this incredibly physically demanding thing that you’ve never done before”, I just agree, and do it. Or try to.

That’s why I’ve stuck with Dylan for nigh on 4 years now. He’s got the ideal combination of expertise, no-nonsense delivery, and low-key psychopathy that seems to work best at getting me to do stuff I would never usually even contemplate.

And one of those things was “You need to start running”.

So, OK.

And here we are, about 14 months later. It’s been a mixed bag of results.

I’ve experienced plenty of aches and twinges, but no injuries yet due to what I assume is some sort of miracle.

I’ve stopped having to pause multiple times mid-run to hack up substances that had no business being in my body in the first place, and my personal best times for 5k are gradually improving.

I’ve been out in all sorts of weather, from driving rain, treacherous frozen ground, and baking sunshine.

I’ve genuinely sweated through multiple running hats, and at least 2 pairs of worryingly expensive specialised running trainers.

I’ve dodged various enraged geese, swans, and other waterfowl. I’ve hurdled distracted dogs and their leads, side-stepped ambling pensioners, and tutted angrily and slow walking groups and people having a mass catch-up on a narrow footpath.

I’ve run so many laps around that lake that I may well have slowed the Earth’s rotation.

I’ve experienced a lot, from running, is what I’m saying. But one thing I haven’t experienced is the fabled ‘runner’s high’.

Photo via Dom Gould

You know what I mean; that pleasurable euphoric state people report when they’ve been doing something physically demanding for long enough. That. I’ve never experienced that.

I understand that not everybody who does long-term exercise reports it happening, and that it’s still a poorly-understood process. Which is understandable, because how would you measure it in the lab? How would you get someone’s brain to experience it under experimental conditions? Get a subject to run laps around the car-park non-stop, then dive head-first into the MRI scanner the moment they start feeling even slightly giddy? Doesn’t seem workable.

Despite this, there is some data, arrived at via clever workarounds, which suggests it’s all to do with the pleasure-inducing endorphin and endogenous cannabinoid systems, with recent data suggesting it’s more the latter as they are more prominent in ‘cursorial’ species, i.e. those adapted for running, after they do some intense running.

And if any species is cursorial, it’s humans, who are seemingly better adapted to long-distance running than any other beings. If we evolved our upright gait and sweat glands and stamina to help us run for longer, why wouldn’t we develop a neurological response to encourage and reward it too? To keep us at it.

Or maybe it’s not that. Maybe the runner’s high is our deepest brain regions saying “OK, you’re in serious physical discomfort, and have been for a while, and whatever is causing it doesn’t seem to be stopping, so have a heavy dose of pain relief and mood boosters, so maybe you can deal with it better, and we can all get out of this alive?” Sort of like how adrenaline prevents us from recognising the pain of injury, hence classic action heroes can be shot multiple times and not even notice, but will wince when the sexy female lead gently dabs their wounds a few hours later.

I don’t know. Like I said, it’s still a poorly understood phenomenon.

But I still feel short-changed! I put the time, money, effort, literal sweat and shoe leather³ into it, and, as someone who’s always steered clear of the more potent narcotics, I feel I deserve at least a brief buzz!

I’m sure people will say I should focus on the other benefits, like the increased fitness or the way running clears your head. But it doesn’t do the latter for me. Granted, my mind is a cluttered place at the best of times, and if I try to zone out while running, I slow down. My default pace is far too plodding, so I have to keep reminding myself to go faster.

Fast paced music in my headphones help me maintain this, but it makes the whole thing rather ‘fraught’. A podcast is easier to zone out to, but then I resume to my plodding pace, as it feels like I’m part of a conversation, and running off would be rude. Maybe I should try podcasts I actively don’t like? So I don’t feel stressed, but also keep up the pace so I can make it stop sooner.

Perhaps if I want a runner’s high, I need to run more than 5k in one go, which I’ve barely done yet. But where does that end? 10k? 15k? 20k? Next thing you know, I’ll be running a marathon, genuinely achieving something while raising money for charity and all that. Can you imagine!

But for now, I’ll just keep doing my regular running. It’s got to the point where I now feel sluggish and tacky if I don’t go for a run several times a week.

Typical. No highs or good feelings, just a chronic, expensive habit, with a lot of sweats thrown in. This is why I avoided drugs to begin with!

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Papa needs a new pare of (running) shoes (again), so please consider buying a book or six of mine.

1. A surprisingly common occurrence.

2. I know it’s actually just over 26 miles. But, I’ve never cared enough to be that pedantic.

3. Although it’s vulcanised rubber or something that running shoe soles are made of, isn’t it? So, not literal ‘shoe leather’ at all.