Relax. Power. Glide.

 NYT piece about Jeff Galloway. By Rustin Dodd

A simple method for solving problems

The disappointment of the 1973 Boston Marathon stayed with Galloway for years. The experience of overtraining was so indelible that it led to many breakthroughs in workload management and problem-solving.

“If we don’t concentrate on our problems,” he wrote, “they will confuse and worry us.”

In “Galloway’s Book on Running,” he prescribed a method for solving problems — both in running and in life.

1. Define the problem.
2. Analyze my strengths and decide if I need outside help.
3. Attack the problem.

For most runners, Galloway understood the biggest problem was simple: the impulse to stop, to remain on the couch instead of logging miles.

To combat the issue, Galloway believed in “the power of positive running” and offered several basic tips. To modern audiences, some of the ideas might seem exceedingly simple.

Three little words

Galloway also believed in a practice called “positive brain washing,” or using “magic words” to offer comfort and encouragement during the brutal exhaustion of a long race. If a runner locked onto two or three words during a race, he thought, they would create associations that would activate a part of the brain and help them accomplish the task.

“The words aren’t magic in themselves,” he wrote. “They come alive and make better connections as you associate each with experiences in which you overcame specific problems. The more experiences, the more magic.”

Decades later, sports psychologists have come to call those magic words “cue words,” and the importance of positive self-talk is widely understood. But Galloway was early to the game. When he raced, he focused on three “magic” words to help him succeed.

Relax, power, glide. 

When he felt his body tighten and fatigue toward the end of a marathon, he focused on the word “relax.” When his brain told him he might not have the energy to finish, he mouthed the word “power.” And when his form fell apart during the final miles, he locked in on the word “glide.”

It made him feel smoother, he said, even when he didn’t look any smoother.

Part of the benefit stems from what psychologists call “attentional control theory,” or the idea that when anxiety hits during performance, the human brain shifts from “goal-directed attention” to “threat-driven attention,” disrupting our focus. Cue words can help the performer block out the perceived “threats,” calm the nervous system and focus on the task.

Power of projection and distraction

Galloway also subscribed to the power of “projection” — an early form of visualization — and “distraction,” a straightforward method to block out pain. When he ran, he liked to fixate on objects along the course, focusing on the specifics of a car parked on the side of the road or the words on a street sign. He didn’t just observe; he liked to use the objects to imagine a story in his head or ask himself peculiar questions.

What type of movie could be staged here? 

What type of novel could that other runner have written? 

“Just as the mind can lead you astray or hold you back,” he said, “it can also lead you forward.”

Galloway even had his own word for “grit” or “willpower,” which he borrowed from Dick Gregory, the entertainer and activist who ran ultramarathons to raise awareness for social issues.

Gregory called it “unleashing the monster,” or tapping into a reservoir of energy late in a race. To Galloway, it made sense.

The way Galloway saw it, there were five different stages of being a runner: The beginner. The jogger. The competitor. The athlete. And finally, the runner.

When someone achieved the final label, Galloway said, it meant they could finally combine all the traits of the first four. They were completely in balance — peaceful, calm and motivated. For most of his life, he strived to embody those traits.

“The runner,” he wrote, “is a happy person.”