When There’s Nothing to Distract You
A reflection on presence, pacing, and listening inward
After racing a 5k and a 3k without headphones, I am brought back to the realization of how often I rely on distraction to avoid discomfort. But in the stillness, I believe I heard something more honest—my own clarity. This piece explores what happens when we stop numbing the quiet and start paying attention to what’s already within us.
Note:
By the time you’re reading this, I’ll have just wrapped up my first-ever solo staycation in Charlotte—an idea gently planted by my sweet stepmom, who reminded me that sometimes the best way to reconnect with yourself…is to actually spend time with yourself. Not surrounded. Not distracted. Just…with you.
I didn’t realize how deeply this weekend tied back to something I’d already been learning.
There’s a kind of silence you don’t notice until you’re in it.
Not the silence of a quiet room or an empty street. But the silence that comes when the usual noise—the playlists, the podcasts, the curated distractions—aren’t there to fill the gaps. The kind of silence that reveals how often we outsource our attention to avoid sitting in the stillness of our own thoughts.
I ran two races last weekend without headphones. A first for me.
And I didn’t know how loud my mind could be until there was nothing playing to drown it out.
No beat to match my stride. No lyrics to distract me from the ache in my lungs. No voice in my ears to tell me I was fine.
Just me. And my breath. And the drumbeat of doubt, then confidence, then doubt again.
At first, it felt like being stripped bare. I couldn’t hide from the fact that I was tired. Or anxious. Or that I had no idea how to pace myself on a five-lap gravel-to-pavement course with 9 turns and zero music to help me escape into autopilot.
But then something happened.
Somewhere between the start line and the final stretch, I started to hear something else. Not noise. Not panic. But a kind of grounded knowing.
I heard the part of me that knows how to keep going.
The part of me that knows the difference between pain and fear.
The part that has always been there—quiet, steady, and waiting for space to speak.
That voice gets buried sometimes. Beneath all the articles and opinions and daily scrolls and Spotify Wrapped playlists we think we need to “get in the zone.” But maybe the real zone is when there’s nothing left to distract you from the truth.
And this clarity—this brave little whisper that says, You’re okay. You’re doing it. Keep going—it didn’t just show up during the race. It had been trying to reach me all weekend.
At the wine bar where I sat alone with a book and a glass of wine, unsure if I was being brave or just weird.
In the hotel lobby where I read for hours and asked strangers to watch my stuff (spoiler: they weren’t thrilled).
On the walk back through Central Park with no headphones in, just me and the sound of New York’s constant, chaotic heartbeat.
In the decision to say no to fireworks and yes to sleep. No to FOMO and yes to quiet.
It was there. In every moment I could’ve filled with noise—but didn’t.
And maybe that’s what this season is asking of me. Not more hustle. Not more sound. Not more input. But more…attention.
To what’s here. To what’s real.
To myself.
Because running without headphones reminded me of something simple and obvious and easy to forget:
I don’t always need something outside of me to guide the way.
Sometimes the loudest clarity comes in silence.
And I have to wonder—how often do we give ourselves the gift of quiet?
Not just silence in the room, but silence from needing to perform, to produce, to fill the gaps. What would we hear if we stopped trying to outpace the discomfort? What kind of truth might surface if we let ourselves just be?
Maybe it’s not about headphones at all.
Maybe it’s about practicing the presence we keep postponing.
So I’ll leave you with this:
A Prompt For You:
When was the last time you sat with yourself—no soundtrack, no distraction, no one else to answer to? Comment below and share with me 🙂
With grace,