Growing up in the 1960s, streaking meant something else to me then.  Since becoming a runner, however, I now identify the term with running every day. Hot or cold.  Sickness or health.  Better or worse.  No matter what.

I have never tried it, and haven't wanted to.  When I started running in my 50s, the wisdom of rest days made sense.  As I aged through cycles of injury and recovery, it was even more compelling. Daily running looked like a prescription for disaster, and I avoided it at all costs. 

Then, this fall, Runner's World magazine posted a challenge:  run at least one mile every day between Thanksgiving and New Year's Day.  Counter the dark mornings, icy evenings, and holiday schedules with a daily commitment. Burn up empty calories and dispel stress. I had dusted off the treadmill and added some lively tunes to my iPod, so decided to give it a whirl. 

Today, 61 days later, I am taking a day off for the first time.  The streak has been a blast.  I am ready to shift into a different pattern with different goals.  Before leaving it behind, however, I want to harvest the lessons I learned from this excellent experience.

First, I learned that commitments are easier for me to keep first thing in the morning.  For two months, I got out of bed, put on running shoes, and stepped onto the treadmill. Before brushing my teeth.  Before eating breakfast. Before checking email (hmmm....not really). 

Second , I learned again how habits form.  Each morning I flipped on the music, set it to shuffle, and ran one mile, two, or three. I ran in the dark with a view of city lights out the window.  I found myself zoning in and zoning out; enjoying the movement, the music, the solitude, and the endorphins.  As time passed, the experience became its own reward.  It was not a struggle, not even a decision.  It happened automatically.  New brain circuits linking A and B (getting up and putting on running shoes) formed with conscious effort and evolved into second nature.  The decision this morning not to follow that pattern was a disruptive exception to my rule.

Third, I learned that in the solitary treadmill environment, I tuned into my body and its feedback. Without the distractions of terrain and weather, traffic and conversation, I could tell when a given pace or pattern of running and walking was stressing weak links and how much I needed to back off.  I enjoyed two months of daily running without hurting myself.

I emerge from the experience ready to resume outdoor workouts with buddies and to add longer runs to training for the next race. I also emerge from this experience with renewed respect for the power of habit.  Habits take many shapes.  They not only drive my exercise and eating, but channel my patterns of thought, emotion, stress, and recovery.  I can apply the lessons I learned on the treadmill to other aspects of life and learning.

Where in your life would you like to play with habits?  Something new you want to try?  Something old you want to change?  Structure, intention, and repetition can work together in a few weeks to make the change you have in mind.