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Over the weekend, I ran a half-marathon—for the first time in about seven or eight years. Though I’m a recreational jogger/sometimes runner, this is the most mileage I’ve done in a long time: 13.1 miles.
Around eight miles in, the toll of the long mileage (without training) kicked in. As I willed my legs to keep going, my arms to keep pumping, I thought about the thousands of miles I’ve logged in my lifetime. A runner since age thirteen, how to run is stored deep in my muscle memory. What I was pushing through—the pain, the full-body sensations of regulated breathing—was all familiar. I would finish because my body knows how to do this, even if I pushed it outside its comfort zone.
Perhaps muscle memory would have wormed itself into my mind in Mile 8 on its own, but in fact the concept had been evoked the day beforehand at The Tahoe Literary Festival, where I moderated a panel of my She Writes Press sisters about writing and wisdom. Bridey Thelen-Heidel author of Bright Eyes, had some powerful things to say about muscle memory as it connects with our writing practice, and how for her, getting her words onto the page was intimately connected with getting the trauma out of her body.
Our bodies hold so much. Our bodies can take so much, too. And, our bodies can lock things up tight, separate themselves from our minds. Our bodies are incredible instruments, and we can unlock what’s stored in our bodies to access strength, depth, wisdom, understanding.
When it comes to writing, there are a few ways muscle memory shows up:
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