Have you ever wondered what the anti-thesis to commercialised, performance-centric running is? Have you ever felt like you are merely chasing numbers, the superficial quantifiable? Have you felt your joy being slowly sapped from your running? These were all things that a promising young Swedish runner contemplated towards the end of his teenage running years. He was a successful runner in the conventional sense - running fast times, clocking big distances, progressing along a promising trajectory as one of the best in the country. But a foot injury picked up during a training camp in Austria made him reconsider his running and life more generally. He no longer enjoyed running like he used to and developed a general feeling of anger towards modern society and the way that things were run (no pun intended).

Shortly after his injury, he decided that what he needed was to head to the forest to live alone for some time. To, in the words of Henry David Thoreau, “live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life”; stripping things back to the fundamentals in order to begin to clearly see what was truly important. Following living in a forest in a canvas tent for four years, struggling through multiple cold winters, having to fend entirely for himself, he later reintegrated into society after meeting a woman who he would later marry. Ever since, he has continued running every day, but no longer runs as part of a procession nor trend, but to simply connect to his body and surroundings. Today, many Swedish runners, both young and old, find inspiration in his writing and speaking, and he often gives talks about his experiences and approach to running across the continent.

His name is Markus Torgeby and, having re-read his book after initially deeply resonating with his experiences, I’ve decided to touch on some of my immediate reflections, giving my own insight and perspective and relating them to my experiences as much as possible.

Becoming your own coach

When talking to an older friend of his who worked at the school that he attended, Markus is told that the only way for him to go forward is by becoming his own coach. Not forward in the sense of improving performance, but instead in the sense of developing contentment and satisfaction in his life. Having been pursuing results and achievement for most of his running years, his friend could tell that it had taken its toll on him - sapping his Soul and energy. He suggested that he moved away from the one-dimensional, which would allow him to use his running as a way of becoming a better human being. This was the conversation that instigated Markus’ decision to head to the woods. He clearly knew, deep down, that his present approach to running no longer served him and that a change was needed.

Truthfully, no one knows your body better than you do. We’re often told that we need some new fancy gadgets to help us train and recover but we are our own real masters. Yes, it’s certainly not easy to become your own coach, requiring tremendous discipline and self-drive, but once you start properly tapping into your mind and body, then a different kind of potential can be achieved. Not ‘athletic potential’ in the conventional sense, but a deeper spiritual potential.

This is not to say that I believe no one should be coached. I see great value in having a coach during the early stages of one’s running journey; however, after a certain point or threshold, that only you can feel, having a coach may only act to interfere with your own rhythms. Personally, I needed to go through the phase of chasing times and metrics to realise that an alternative existed. By experiencing the emotions associated with the incessant pursuit of success and performance only in the narrow-minded sense, I was able to conclude that it did not in fact bring me happiness. Notice the emphasis on the me, as I can only share my own experience, which may or may not differ greatly from yours. Don’t also think that once you drop all preconceived notions that you have about what running is really about that you’ll start floating along the trails with no issues. I’ve in fact found that quite the opposite is true at first, since much inner work starts needing to be done to face and address the impurities of mind that may have been driving you to chase the quantifiable.

The plasticity of ordinary existence

Not all reflections that Markus makes are related to running. As mentioned, his realisation that he needed to change something was simply sparked by a running injury, but the turmoil and anguish that he felt was more complex than this. They pertained to his general view that much of what society was doing was plastic, explaining that he did not want to have to spend his time choosing between different kinds of “shit”. Instead, he wishes for the choices that he makes to have concrete consequences in the world. If he does something wrong, he wants to have to pay the price for it. If he does something right, then he shall reap the rewards of his work. Now, reflecting on this, I think about the yogic law of Karma mentioned in the Bhagavad Gita - that every action - thoughts included - has a consequence.

Often, we act in ways that are merely concerned with ourselves due to a conditioned sense of egotism, but, more often than not, we do not consider the consequences of how we act. We might say something mean to someone when caught up in anger, or even think about certain things that are impure. This is why I believe that Markus’ want is actually already fulfilled, as all of our actions ultimately have consequences, they just may not be explicit or obvious - perhaps because they’re outsourced or deliberately ignored. In saying this, I do see his view point. Take, for example, having to decide which box set to start binge watching or having to decide whether to light a fire in the woods so that your fingers don’t develop frost bite. Clearly, there are some actions (or inactions) that have more literal consequences in the physical world. Markus does not want to have to make decisions between a thousand different petty things, and instead wants to strip things back to primitive basics.

His choice of the word plastic is also fitting, in my view. By now, we’re aware that the proliferation of plastic is leading to wide-scale ecological destruction, undermining our personal and planetary health. With literal plastic, it’s easy to imagine how it breaks down into microplastics which then enter water ways that lead to the oceans and, boom, all of a sudden you’ve got plastic everywhere. It’s also easy to see the amount of cheap junk that lines shop shelves all over the world simply because the market has facilitated the production of said junk. Visually, we see clutter and we are starting to feel the effect of the plastic problem. However, there’s also the metaphorical plastic nature of things, which is what Markus is referring to. The single-use, temperamental nature of plastic. The concerning ubiquity of products derived from plastic. These are analogues of aspects of present day society. Where we value short term gratification and reward over long term satisfaction and health. Where we have little independence and creativity of thought and, instead, sail away with the fickle winds of news and social media. Where we live in a delusion that we can continue performing actions that are deteriorating the fabric of society and the Earth and expect there to be no explicit consequences. Where information networks are now being formed upon and moulded by fragile foundations built by only a select few individuals in power. Where a monopoly of big corporations have their fingers in many more pies than imaginable, with fossil-fuel derived plastic products, ironically, being one such example.

What concerns me is that since the time of Markus writing his book in 2018, both he metaphorical and literal plasticity of the world have continued increasing. Despite some awareness of the impact of the proliferation of AI - which in Mike Berners-Lee’s words, is somewhat a mirror to the proliferation of plastic, which existed not until the Twentieth century -, we’re continuing to allow it to infiltrate nearly every little corner of our lives. While living in the woods, Markus has no TV or radio to feed on others’ opinions and, instead, experiences life and it’s beautiful mundanity as it is. I think that society would be better off if we at least protected some our time for doing nothing other than observing oneself and nature, because protecting our time is what is needed now that we can, if we choose, to be constantly stimulated and distracted.

Overcoming restlessness

Related to doing nothing is restlessness. When restless, doing nothing is incredibly difficult. We feel like we have ants in our pants and that our dopamine hungry brains are not being fed. Boredom strikes us, but only because we’re caught up in this ideology of productivity and efficiency, where simply doing nothing is seen as wasteful.

Having been in the woods for a couple of months, Markus realises that he is incredibly restless. He feels like he should always be doing something and struggles to sit still. Therefore, to try to combat this restlessness, he decides to sit on a tree stump all day. He continues doing this for a couple of months until his restlessness is dealt with. Reading this passage, I couldn’t help but see the mirror of myself. As I currently do not work, I have much free time on my hands. Consequently, I have started noticing how restless I am unless preoccupied, even feeling so after long days of hiking during my pilgrimage in Japan. I know that such restlessness’ root is deep in one’s mind, but also believe that it is related to this notion of always needing to be doing something. Ironically, a consequence of such feelings is often feeling like I am captivated in the box of my psyche, like and animal confined in a zoo. But an animal only feels confined in a zoo as there are walls surrounding it, no different to the walls of my psyche. The treatment to my restlessness is, I truly believe, to become better at doing nothing, such that the walls of the psyche developed from past conditioning start to develop peek-holes to another way of being. To realise that having lots of time to do nothing is perhaps the greatest gift that one can be given.

Instead of ignoring such feelings of restlessness and running away from them, I am determined to sit with them until I can arrive at a place of peace. This work will be difficult. I attempted to do this by attending a Vipassana 10 day silent meditation last November, but I am not naive, and know that much work is still needed for me to arrive at a place where the state of boredom is a thing of the past; where solitude is pure bliss. How I will do this, I do not know, but meditation - including future Vipassanas - will certainly be a central component.

Sometimes, having lots of time “to do not very much” like Markus says is precisely what is needed. Our time needn’t always be filled or viewed as something to be spent. This view of time is aligned with the way we view the economy that’s constructed in present society. Time as a currency to be spent, just like money. But this creates the notion that, like money, depending on how we spend our time, we can derive different value from it. This ideology isn’t intrinsically flawed, but in a playing field where productivity is given almost utmost priority, we can start being caught up in spending only regards to whether that thing is seen as productive or not in the capitalist sense.

Appreciating more, without

For some time now, I’ve believed that lots of things that we ‘have’ in our lives simply distract us from the things that nourish the Soul and that truly matter. Of course, this is only my opinion, but it’s also not been clear cut. Sometimes, I’ve had to fight internal battles as I’ve often thought - about various things - that you don’t want to go too far to the other end of the spectrum such that tremendous energy is wasted in trying not to do or have something. But then I remind myself that I am incredibly privileged and lucky and that with that comes a choice as to how I exercise my privilege. I do not wish to misuse it, as this causes many problems, like we can see in the world today. Instead, I believe that doing without by choice is a better way of exercising such privilege. That way, I can explore what changes when I do so and, hopefully, lead by example and help inspire others to live in closer alignment with Nature and, in the words of Gandhi, “live simply so that others may simply live”.

What I mean by doing without to appreciate more might be unclear, so a simple analogy may help. Consider a cake. If I were to eat a whole cake every day, then I’d soon numb my sensitivity and appreciation for said cake. Alternatively, an individual slice of cake only eaten on certain special occasions will generate far different feelings and emotions, likely bringing feelings of joy and gratitude. Markus’ is inspiring in the way that he clearly appreciates the small things. He comes back from long days running in the forest or chopping wood for fire, and describes making some porridge over the fire in a way that clearly shows his deep sense of appreciation for having warm food to eat. I also like porridge, and deliberately choose to make my porridge in the slowest way possible whenever I eat it for breakfast. Using big oats and water, slowly simmering it away for a good fifteen minutes. Yes, I could have used instant porridge, but then I’d lose the enforced pause created by having to overlook my porridge cooking, denying myself of the clarity of though that accompanies this seemingly meaningless task.

Reducing your life to its basic needs and ridding anything that’s superfluous is, similarly, a way of regaining the sensitivity that is lost when everything is available in stark abundance. That’s not to say that it is easy. In fact, by freeing up space and time, one has to start facing and working through one’s mental defilements - a lengthy process that’s never truly finished. Personally, I am fascinated with the extent to which I can go without and to explore where the sweet spot lies between having too little, or too much. I suspect that it is far closer to the former than the latter.

Endless extremes

One of my favourite lines from the book, and a line that Markus closes his documentary is the following:

If I have to keep exposing myself to ever greater challenges in order to achieve the same emotions, then I must be doing something wrong.

Why is this the line that I resonate most with in the book? Because this is something that I have come to painfully and slowly realise for myself - that the pursuit of extremes, challenges, pain, and suffering is in fact a symptom of an unsettled and discontent mind. It’s also something that I believe I’ve made much progress with over the past couple of years. I spent much of my late teens and early adult life pursuing various goals - many of which could be quantified - and constantly setting myself ever greater challenges. In academia, success one year only ever catalysed the desire to do better and succeed the following year, to the point that I eventually became numb to said ‘successes’. In my running, it was never enough just to enjoy running comfortably within my limits and boundaries and, instead, I persistently sought out more in my running. It’s not that I don’t think we should set ourselves ambitious goals and shoot for the stars, but this need not mean pursuing numbers.

Initially, pushing the extremes in my running looked like going further, faster, and being stronger et. cetera, but my perspective has since shifted. I now view my running as an act of self-transcendence, but know that the emotions that it invokes can also be accessed by other means - through meditation, for example. I’ve also come to realise that we often mix up the emotions that we feel and their origins. The mind does not care about our pace or heart rate - it cares about the degree of non-separation that there is between mind, body, and nature. The emotions experienced as part of a so called runners high do not require one to become the best runner in the town, country, or the world. They arise from the sensory dance from within and the surrounding sensory landscape.

So, what do I think is the reason for us arriving at a place, like Markus, where we pursue endless extremes? We live in a capitalist society whose groundwork, from a merely economical standpoint, is dissipating and spreading like disease across the population. We’re being conditioned, knowingly or not, to value not what someone feels or offers from their heart but, instead, things that indicate growth, success, and performance in the economic sense. The superficial quantifiable. Consequently, many simple things have transformed into ego-battles between dissatisfied individuals who are projecting their insecurities instead of addressing them. We’ve started resorting to pursuing greater extremes to even feel anything, but this need not be the case. The present desensitisation can be reversed if we reduce things to the essential.

We’re led to believe that by pursuing greater and greater goal posts, then we’ll always be satisfied in life. So why, then, are so many people discontent and restless? Because we’ve sapped the sensitivity of mind that’s required to still be moved by even the smallest of things by persistently bombarding ourselves with unnecessary information. The capitalist model has engrained the idea of life as a pyramid, or mountain to be climbed, in our minds - just like that pyramid that’s shown to us during any induction to a corporate job. But would one rather climb an endless pyramid all their life or, instead, be content with exploring what the lowlands have to offer? Perhaps then one will stumble upon a mode of flying that takes them off to the skies in the spiritual sense.

Something is certainly wrong if the only way that one can derive life satisfaction is through the continuous pursuit of greater feats. Perhaps we should look at how we undertake the simplest of things in life, noticing if any hastiness or rush is present. This could become our next challenge. To be present. It’s certainly one that I am trying to explore.

A bursting bubble?

Back to running, towards the end of the book, Markus discusses the current increasing interest in running. He thinks about whether the currently interest in running can be sustained, but says that this would not matter to him, as he will “continue to use his legs to make new discoveries”. The first thing I wrote down in my journal after reading this line was the following - “this is why I run too, and I’ve been depriving myself of it”. When I started running, I loved moving my body through my environment, exploring my surroundings, and being in nature. Over the years, as my running became more mechanical and regimented, I lost most of this. It took an ankle sprain last year for me to realise this, and to see that I could still use my running as a way of making new discoveries - about myself, others, and nature.

I talk a lot about finding your why - the true intrinsic reasons for why you run. The reason for this is precisely the reason why Markus is wondering whether the present interest in running will last. Don’t get me wrong, it’s great that more and more people are running and realising it’s power in making them a better person, if done for the right reasons. However, I sometimes think whether the ship is being steered by the right motives and people. If we run for extrinsic reasons merely, then these motivations will soon fade away and leave us questioning why we run. Funnily, at this point, I believe that if one cannot find a compelling personal reason as to why they want to run, then they should simply not run. We don’t all need to be running and we shouldn’t feel like we need to hop onto what’s certainly a trend in current times. If you prefer painting or cycling, then do those instead. But the catch here is that I believe that once people realise how powerful running can be to make new discoveries, then they will want to continue running. Not in an unsustainable, ego-driven way, but in a way that makes them a better human being, just like Markus chose to do.

Ignoring the rubbish

The final thing I’d like to touch on is the rubbish. One day, Markus is asked to help coach a bunch of nordic skiers how to run. For the most part, the skiers run with good, natural, form. Observing the runners, it makes Markus think about how simple running is - that it’s a thing that we’re born to do. He then mentions how he’s confused about why there are so many rubbish running shoes with thick soles that make it difficult to run how we’re naturally meant to. It’s a simple thing that everyone can do - it doesn’t require, like Markus points out, NASA engineered shoes. The industry is simply releasing products to solve problems that were long ago solved. There’s “all this useless stuff being developed, which in many cases is just about consumption”. This couldn’t be further from the truth. New gadgets, kit, nutrition products popping up all of the time, promising to make us as a better runner. I learnt a new term from a friend the other week - maxing. All of this stuff just sounds like a daft way of run-maxing to me - trying to maximise our running, again, in a way aligned with the capitalist mindset.

Another rubbish fad is diets. Diets don’t work because every individual is different. There’s so much crap around these days talking about different diets. I’ve fallen prey to it myself, trying low carb, high carb, and all the rest. But, the truth is, only I can know what’s good for me and how I feel. The same is true for you. As Markus says, though, the reason why big companies don’t just tell us this is because we can’t package “your own responsibility” into a marketable product that can create profit. Personally, I now ignore diets and do what we’ve done for thousands of years before food became so complicated - eat whole, hearty, unprocessed food.

In an era where running is booming, it’s important to remember what running really is. It’s a dance. A movement of a free human being. But, truthfully, as Markus ends with saying, only us can decide how we live our life and what the meaning of life is. There’s no blueprint to follow, and my life is only one example of a life.

Carve your own path.