Into Great Silence

It was late — late — one night when I was 14 years old, and I just couldn’t sleep. Hours and hours had passed, and no amount of tossing, turning, or counting farm animals would do the trick. This was a hard-core case of insomnia, now on its third night. So, out of desperation, I reached over for the radio and flicked to the AM dial. Music, I figured, would be too stimulating, but maybe talk would, if nothing else, turn my mind to something other than my inability to sleep.

Within minutes, I was out cold.

That moment marked the beginning of an addiction. I suddenly found myself an aficionado of all things radio: It began with news, then drifted into sports and politics. But really, I liked it all. Back in those days, Larry King had a radio show on which he would interview authors of new books, and I listened to it nightly. I loved the occasional niche shows that stations would play on weekends, like tech-talk, call-in therapy, or pet care. On a trip to Austria, I found myself scanning the dial for anything I could get in English, which usually consisted of Voice of America (by day) and the World Service of Radio Moscow (by night). Back in the States, one local radio station dedicated Sunday nights to old-fashioned radio dramas — a real treat.

And when I came into my faith at age 24, my audiophilia opened me up to the wonderful world of Catholic radio, which proved a great way to deepen my knowledge of the Faith. Today, Catholic Answers Live and EWTN are the bread and butter of my audio existence.

The addiction that kicked in when I was 14 has carried with me for the last 20-plus years. I listen to the radio in the car. On the (rare) moments I’m home alone and the house is quiet, my mp3 player is always on. After Mary Kate and I were married, I gave up the bedtime radio habit out of consideration for her, but thanks to the advent of podcasts (and headphones) even this has returned. And, of course, podcasts are essential to my running.

A few months back, I mused about how hard it would be for me to take my runs without audio. I even flirted with the idea of giving up my mp3 player for Lent. But then the start of Lent coincided with my injury, which distracted me from (translation: gave me an excuse to shelve) that idea.

Yet now Holy Week is upon us, and my injury seems to be getting better. So, on the principle that it’s better to start small than not to start at all, I’ve decided to give up my beloved mp3 player for the week. And that includes my runs, even the 13-miler I’ve got planned for Holy Saturday.

It sounds so silly, I know. Millions of runners run quite happily without sound all the time. And as far as addictions go, this one is rather benign. But it is something I am, for whatever reasons, very reluctant to let go of. And in faith, we should be prepared to live without anything, save for God’s love and grace.

So, between now and Easter, I will be going sans audio. And just maybe, in the silence, I’ll hear something I’ve been missing. After all, it works for these guys …