Some Like It Slow and Long
Long runs, slow videos, and rule breaking.
Reflecting on the hum of our ever-busy fridge at home, it dawned on me how this constant background noise is so much like my life as a creative and a business owner. It's always there, this steady hum of tasks and to-dos, so ingrained in my daily routine that I hardly notice it anymore. But when it stops, the silence hits me like a wave—so profound, so jarring. It makes me wonder, how on earth did I tune out all that noise?
Are you like me? My days are filled with a variety of tasks: managing multiple platforms, maintaining a website, writing blogs, and working on projects to grow my business or my artistry, all while attending to client work. I've found efficiency in time blocking and routines, but what about the silence? The quiet?
Yet, what if everything just...stopped? That's what I experimented with in January, resisting the usual urge to kickstart new projects. It felt odd, especially when it seemed like everyone else was setting and sharing their new year goals. But I hung back, taking it slow, and let me tell you, it wasn't easy. The silence of not constantly doing was louder than I anticipated. I'm wired to tick off tasks, to keep moving. So realizing that what I actually crave is space and time for bigger projects felt like stepping into a soundproof room after leaving a noisy street.
This week, in particular, was tough. I found myself irked more often than not because I'm itching for something more substantial than the quick wins of daily tasks. It's uncomfortable, stepping back to do less, but it's also undeniably me.
And then, there were these moments—running without music by accident and finding it surprisingly refreshing, or editing photos just for the sake of creating. These were my inadvertent escapes into silence, my brain's way of showing me there's more to life than the digital hum.
One thought led to another, and I stumbled upon an insight about content consumption—that our attention has its limits, and perhaps the endless scroll of short-form videos isn't as fulfilling as we think. It sparked a bit of hope in me. Despite the pressure to churn out quick, catchy content, I realized that's not where my heart is. I'm drawn to the deeper, slower-paced work, even if it means breaking away from what's expected.
“Consuming content requires attention, and everyone has an attention ceiling. This is the basis of my belief that short-form video has an upper limit. It’s not that short-form isn’t as good or as entertaining as long-form, it’s that it’s distracting and ultimately draining.” — Anu Atluru [source]
This realization has been liberating. It's about allowing myself to be verbose, to explore ideas without rushing. I'm learning to to stop being shy about the fact that I love a long pause, I relish the slow, and I want to take my time.
I want to share something that inspired me—a video by Tracksmith. It is a single almost 90-minute shot of a runner out for their long run. Nothing else.
A piece so perfectly attuned to the runner's soul but perhaps too nuanced for broader appeal. It's a video that captures the essence of running not through grandiose landscapes or triumphant moments, but through the steady, deliberate pace of a runner navigating an icy path. The video is a meditation on movement, focusing on the subtle shifts of the runner's body, the careful placement of her feet on slippery ground, and the quiet determination that propels her forward. It's a video that speaks volumes in its silence, in the unspoken understanding between the runner and the road.
For those outside the running community, this video might seem uneventful, even tedious. Yet, for those of us who have felt the cold air fill our lungs, who have navigated the treacherous paths of winter runs, it's a profound narrative. It captures the essence of running—not as a spectator sport, but as a personal journey, a testament to the strength and focus that comes from within.
This video, much like my journey towards embracing the quiet, underscores the beauty of creating content that resonates on a deeply personal level. It's a reminder that not everything we create needs to appeal to the masses. There's value in crafting messages that speak directly to the hearts of a specific audience, even if it means embracing a pace and a rhythm that diverges from the mainstream.
Creating on your own terms, focusing on what truly nourishes you, might not be the quickest path, but it's undoubtedly rewarding. And if you ever doubt whether there's a place for your unique voice and pace, just look at the responses to that video. They're a testament to the fact that there's a world out there eager for authentic, thoughtful, and yes, slow content.
There's a place for you, in the quiet beyond the hum.
The Video
Church of the Long Run
About: “Sunday mornings are a time for reflection. In the congregation of runners, we often single out that day as the one where we too pay our penance. The Sunday long run becomes a weekly ritual where we allow for the time it takes. Whether in a group or solitude, we carve out the space necessary to participate in physical communion. One received only through prolonged effort. Done correctly, it’s a truly hypnotic, meditative experience built at the altar of another week's worth of showing up. For the runner, this is deliverance. This is church.”
Comments in reaction to this video:
“This is by far the most beautiful thing I ever seen on YT”
“There's no reason I should like this video. It's just someone running. But it's calming, tranquil, inspiring, beautiful. I love this video. Thank you for this.”
“I've come back and watched this video at least once every couple weeks because it just truly embodies that distance running spirit so well. Masterful job. I'd love to see more of these long-form types of videos on the channel!”
Why? Because this video is intended for a very specific person, it resonates with the emotions they personally experience. It is not meant for a wide audience; rather, it is designed for those who can relate to this particular feeling.