I have recently learned that my brain is most focused when my body is in motion or the environment is completely silent. That is why I gravitate toward running, lifting, hiking, and paddle boarding. All things that can be done solo. However, this also means my brain sometimes has thoughts that need to be captured immediately while in the most inconvenient places. And no… I haven’t developed a solid system around this.
For example, today I was mid-3-mile run on my treadmill. My 5-year-old was at camp, and my 2-year-old was napping. I was lost in my thoughts. Then I remembered how our downstairs toilet randomly stopped filling with water. Obviously, mile 1.5 is a perfect time to pause and immediately go investigate some possible solutions my brain came up with mid-run. Here’s the thing: if I didn’t do it immediately, I probably would have forgotten or lost interest. So it had to be done. I tried a couple of my solutions; when neither worked, I hopped back on my treadmill. To someone with a neurotypical brain, this is crazy and even mildly annoying.
Since the rise of smartphones, it’s become a problem for my neurodivergent brain. Not for the reason you’d think, like mindless scrolling, though that’s a problem too. But if a question pops into my head, I look it up immediately. I have to. I had a student like this this past year; his Google search history was as wild as mine. I understood him; I never corrected that particular behavior because he was just on a side quest and would eventually work his way back to his assignment… after all the other questions in his brain were answered.
I don’t think people always understand that these detours aren’t necessarily distractions. They’re unfinished loops. My brain doesn’t whisper, “Hey, we should remember to check that later.” It shouts, “THIS IS IMPORTANT. WE MUST KNOW NOW.”
It explains why I have 47 tabs open, why my Notes app looks like the ramblings of a conspiracy theorist, and why my Amazon cart contains everything from replacement toilet fill valves to paddle board accessories to a book on octopus intelligence. At some point, all of those things became the most fascinating topic in the universe.
The funny part is that movement seems to unlock all of it. Running has become less about exercise and more about giving my brain enough room to sort through the giant junk drawer it calls working memory. Somewhere between mile one and mile three, ideas for blog posts appear. Solutions to problems I’ve been wrestling with for weeks suddenly make perfect sense. I remember birthdays, appointments, things I forgot to text people back about, and apparently, plumbing.
It makes me wonder how many times I spent years fighting against the way my brain naturally works instead of working with it.
Maybe that’s why I love solo movement so much. There’s no conversation to keep up with. No expectation to stay on one topic. Just enough quiet for my thoughts to run laps while my body does the same.
Do I still pause a treadmill run to troubleshoot a toilet? Apparently.
Will I continue to Google things that absolutely could have waited another hour? Probably.
But I’ve stopped viewing these moments as character flaws. They’re just evidence that my brain is constantly connecting dots, solving problems, and chasing curiosity. Sometimes those dots lead to a blog post. Sometimes they lead to a functioning toilet.
And honestly, I’m okay with not knowing which one it’ll be until mile 1.5.
ADHD and Awkward 
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