Recently I went on a running adventure. I’d never done that kind of thing before, but on a fresh summer’s day, with a bag full of flapjacks (and not nearly enough socks) my friend James and I took a train into deepest Kent and set off on our journey.
For five days we ran through harvest-heavy fields – sleeping at night in a scrap of woods, or a remote farmer’s field. Each morning we shouldered our packs and, despite their weight, there was a lightness to this boiled-down living. A smooth mindfulness to the running. Some people call it “The Flow”.
Since coming back, I’ve been out looking for the feeling again: searching my heart-rate monitor for the same rhythms. Listening on busy-A roads for the silence of it. Checking my kudos on Strava for the same satisfaction. Re-plugged once again into modern life, however, it’s not possible to get back into the same lightness of stride and mind we experienced on the North Downs Way.
Finally last night, on a long run through evening woods, I made a discovery. Leaving technology and expectation at home, I ran slowly, concentrating on the movement more than where I was going. There was no stopping for GPS signal, or competition with my fastest time. There was no distraction with selfies, or a cheeky “check-me-out” update. The flow is not on Facebook. It’s out there, in the simple act of running.
More about Matt’s journey along the North Downs Way in November’s Men’s Running feature: ‘The Art of Fastpacking’
