“Do you hear the birds singing?”

I thought my tennis partner was crazy. We were deep in a competitive match and had just lost a point. He wanted to talk about birds?

I play in a men’s Saturday morning tennis league. I’m pretty bad, but it’s social, gives me something to do besides run, and gives me practice dealing with nerves. That morning, I was getting plenty of practice.

“What?” I said. “The birds,” my partner said. “Aren’t they loud?” I hadn’t heard a thing. But I stopped and listened. Sure enough, they were loud.

Until then, all I could hear was the noise in my head. You probably know it. The running commentary about what you did wrong, what might happen next, and why you can’t hit the same serve you hit in practice. There wasn’t much room for birds.

Being present gets talked about so much that the phrase can lose its meaning. But for a few seconds, I stopped replaying the last point and worrying about the next one. I listened to what was happening around me. Maybe my partner sensed I needed help getting out of my head. Maybe he just likes birds. Either way, it worked.

Running gives me something similar. In nearly every race, there’s a moment when the effort takes over. My feet ache, my heart burns, and holding the pace takes all my attention. I remember those stretches more clearly than many finish lines.

Work, family responsibilities, and household errands go quiet. I’m occupied with the next few steps, the next breath, and getting up the hill in front of me. I don’t enjoy every second, but that feeling keeps me coming back. For a little while, I feel fully there, alive and moving.

Apparently, I can get a little of that between points on a tennis court, too!

What about you? What helps you quiet the chatter? Do you hear the birds?