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In his new book, “The Running Ground: A Father, a Son, and the Simplest of Sports” (to be published Oct. 28 by Random House), tech journalist and CEO of The Atlantic Nicholas Thompson explores his passion for running, the simplicity of the sport, and how it has changed his sense of self.

Read an excerpt below, and don’t miss Tony Dokoupil’s interview with Nicholas Thompson on “CBS Sunday Morning” October 26!

“The Running Ground” by Nicholas Thompson

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Running is the simplest of sports: right foot, left foot, right foot. There’s no ball to focus on, no mat to land on, no one charging toward you with their shoulder down. But the simplicity opens up complexity. As you run, your attention shifts inward. You’re just you — right foot, left foot, and whatever goes on in your mind.

Running strips you down. The less clothing you wear, the faster you go. The lighter your shoes, the faster you go. As you go faster, your head empties too. At a certain point, all you can register is the sensation of each foot striking the pavement. Mind and matter briefly become one.

You may have to worry about wind and rain and heat, but you rarely have to worry about anyone else. You do it by yourself, which gives you control. You don’t need to travel to a gym or a field; you just need to open your front door. The sport’s simplicity means your successes are your own, and also that there’s no one else to blame when you fail. And no sport shows the relentless decline of the aging body more clearly than running. If you can’t do what you did a year or a month ago, the evidence is right there on your watch.

Sometimes, I use running as a form of meditation. I put on my shoes and go out. I connect my watch to satellites and then try to disconnect my mind from the swirl inside. Eventually, I’m alone in my head. Sometimes, I’ll focus on a musical mantra: “one-two-three, one-two-three,” tracking my steps and making sure I keep my left and right feet alternating symmetrically on the downbeat. Other times, I focus on my breath or on the sounds and motion around me, whether the blue jays in the Catskills or the trucks rumbling by on Broadway. Sometimes, as with all meditation, my attention wanders, like a stream flowing haphazardly through my mind, collecting sticks and carrying them until they wash to the side.

When I run a workout, though, everything changes. I’m not trying to open my mind; I’m trying to close it. I shut out the blue jays and the trucks. I have to focus. If I’m with a training partner, I lock my attention on their shoulder if I’m behind or on their breath if I’m ahead. Usually, though, I’m on my own. I look for runners up the road and set imaginary races against them: Can I catch the lady in the purple sweatshirt before the second oak tree? Can I stay an even twenty meters behind the cyclist playing John Coltrane on a boom box? I check my watch and try not to let my pace deviate from the goal. I try to identify the parts of my body that hurt and then I push the pain away from them. I remind myself that I have run this fast before. Self-doubt is a smoldering fire. In a workout, the embers often flash. I don’t want to give them any air. Every action we take helps to build our habits. Quit once and it’ll be easier to quit the second time too.

I don’t listen to music while I run. Every workout is a physical challenge — I’m trying to strengthen the muscles in my legs and my heart — but it’s also a mental challenge. I’m trying to teach my body how to move quickly and with good coordination through space. Running is a process of learning about your body and developing habits deep inside it. Music can confuse the signals. I want to deepen my understanding of the relationship between my stride, my pace, my breath. I don’t want a bassline, or the adrenaline that can flow with it, to get in the way.

When I race in a marathon, my goal early on is to spend as little energy as possible thinking about anything extraneous. I think about posture and form and balance. I try not to think about the people cheering. I try not to think about past fail­ures or successes. I try to glance as infrequently as possible at my watch. It takes energy, after all, to turn your head, and it takes energy to think. When people in my pack ask questions, or offer commentary, I respond in grunts. On easy runs with friends in the park, I’m a chatterbox. When I race, I’m a vault.

Over the years, the sport has shifted my imagination and my sense of self. When I travel by train, I find myself looking out the window and noting spots to run by the creeks and forests nearby. When I arrive in a new city, I like to circle it with a run. I’ve seen more of the world while running than I have while walking. I have recurring dreams of mountains I’ve run up. But I spend much of the day at a desk, mind-wired to my to-do list. Running is my one connection to na­ture and to a younger, adventurous self who only and always wanted to be outside.

      
Excerpted from “The Running Ground” by Nicholas Thompson. Copyright © 2025 by Nicholas Thompson. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.

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“The Running Ground” by Nicholas Thompson

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Public support for the British monarchy has fallen below 50% for the first time, according to a new Savanta poll that also reveals widespread distrust toward the royal family’s handling of the Prince Andrew scandal. 

The survey, commissioned by the anti-monarchy group Republic, found that just 46% of respondents said they support the monarchy, down sharply from 60% in June, while 39% said they oppose it. 

A majority of respondents said they believe members of the royal family knew about Andrew’s alleged behavior before it was made public.

Sixty-one percent said it was “likely” that the royals were aware of the allegations, and 57% called for an inquiry into what senior figures knew and when. 

More than three-quarters of those polled said Andrew should face a criminal investigation, and 70% said the police had not done enough. 

Nearly seven in ten respondents said stripping him of his titles was an inadequate punishment. 

Republic’s chief executive, Graham Smith, said the results show “the monarchy is in serious trouble,” adding that “people clearly want a wider inquiry” and a “national debate about the monarchy’s future.” .

The report is based on a statement issued by Republic on its website, summarizing the Savanta poll commissioned by the group.

Under the bright lights of the David H. Koch Theater at Lincoln Center, Misty Copeland took her final bow, a moment that marked not just the end of a performance but the close of a chapter that transformed American ballet. The trailblazing dancer, who shattered racial barriers in the art form, retired on Wednesday as a principal dancer with the American Ballet Theatre after 25 years with the company.

But she told “CBS Mornings” in an exclusive interview that the decision to perform one last time wasn’t something she initially wanted.

“It’s been such an interesting kind of lead up to this moment, because I in all honesty I didn’t wanna come back to the stage and have this moment,” she told Gayle King.

When asked why, Copeland explained that by 2019, her last year performing with the American Ballet Theatre before taking a 5-year hiatus, she had begun to feel drained after decades of dancing. 

“I really was starting to feel burnt out, kind of losing that passion that I’ve had my whole career and whole life for dance,” she said. “And I always promised myself I wouldn’t go onstage if I didn’t feel that I was delivering from my heart and, you know, my soul.”

She said that after taking time away, she viewed her return as an opportunity for closure and gratitude. 

“In taking these five years, and really thinking about what this moment means in terms of just closure and saying thank you, that, I think, is what has gotten me back onstage for the show,” Copeland said.

The final bow

At Copeland’s farewell gala at Lincoln Center, Oprah Winfrey and Debbie Allen were among those who honored her career and impact.

“Misty Copeland didn’t just perform ballet, she changed it,” Winfrey said. “She did. She redefined who belongs, who gets to be seen, and who gets to lead.”

Allen also praised Copeland’s influence. “You are a prophecy come true. A prophecy of goodness, and genius and grace and power,” she said.

Copeland helped organize the evening’s program, which included a scene from “Romeo and Juliet.”

“I really wanted to do this piece because Calvin Royal, he’s the second Black male principal dancer in ABT’s history,” Copeland said. “And we were set to perform the full-length ballet, the first two Black dancers to perform the leads together at ABT right before the pandemic hit. And then that never came to fruition. So I thought, even though it’s not the full ballet, to be able to perform just a piece of it.”

The night ended with a standing ovation. Copeland received bouquets from her husband, Olu Evans, and their 3-year-old son, Jackson, who saw her perform for the first time.

Redefining ballet

Copeland looked back on the moment that made history, becoming the first Black woman promoted to principal dancer at the American Ballet Theatre. She said the title carried a deeper meaning beyond personal recognition.

“I think that and I’ve gone back and forth over the years in terms of, like, what that really means and the title is what has opened the doors for the next generation,” she said.

Her 2015 promotion was celebrated around the world, but it also brought new challenges. Copeland said the attention came with intense pressure and unfair expectations. “There were articles being written, ‘If Misty doesn’t go onstage and perform Swan Lake perfectly does she deserve to be a principal dancer? Is this because she’s Black? Is this why she’s getting this opportunity?'” she recalled.

For Copeland, ballet was never just about perfect lines or technical mastery. “I know deep down, like, to me the art form and dance is not even, it’s not about, these technical feats. It’s not about, to me, the aesthetic and, and what’s on the outside. To me what’s saved my life is the storytelling, and being able to kind of step into this beautiful world and express myself in ways that I couldn’t as a child,” she said.

Her relationship with dance began at 13, an age when most professional ballerinas were already years into their training. Growing up amid uncertainty and instability, she said ballet became a place of safety and self-discovery. 

“I felt beautiful and I felt powerful and I felt strong and I felt like I had a voice. I felt confident and I felt stability for the first time in my life,” she said. “Because the way I grew up there was no stability. There was a lot of chaos and movement, and, didn’t always have a home and food on the table. And so ballet became, dance allowed me to flourish. It gave me structure. It gave me discipline. It gave me grace. It gave me a purpose.”

As diversity, equity and inclusion initiatives face growing criticism, Copeland said she believes this is the right time to step away from performing.

“I think it’s the exact right time for me to be stepping off the stage for this,” she said. “Because I think that the impact that I can have off the stage is, is going to be, greater than what I’ve done. It’s been 25 years that I’ve been a Black body on this stage, and I think that there’s been a lot of movement and shifts.”

She said progress in ballet must also happen behind the curtain. 

“It’s more than just seeing yourself on the stage. It’s what’s being implemented behind the scenes,” she said. “It’s the schools. It’s how are we getting teachers in schools who look like the children they’re serving? It’s getting board members who are making these decisions who represent a greater group of people. There’s so much work to be done.”

Copeland also announced that she will  be joining ABT’s board of trustees. 

“You know, it’s not common that you see artists come onto boards and that you see women of color. And so to be able to have a seat at the table — in a really impactful way — I think is progress. And that, to me, is — is so thrilling and so exciting to be able to stay connected to this company that has been everything to me. I mean, it’s been my dream since I was 13 years old. And I still to this day can’t believe I’ve been able to live it out the way that I have.”

Copeland said the timing of her departure was important.

“I always said to myself, like, I’m not gonna be that ballerina that they’re pulling off by the pointe shoes, like, ‘Girl, it’s time.’ You know, that I wanna be able to say, you know, like, I feel good in this moment, and now is time for me to bow,” she said.