Running, especially on trails and in hilly places, has been a big passion now for around 3 years. It’s led to hours of quality time in beautiful places both with people I love and alone.

Physically (and mentally) it can take you very high and then sweep you low into the valley looking up at what you’ve got to climb next. The weather can have drastic changes in a short space of time; at worst leaving you without the clarity of visibility and weighed down by soggy wet clothes, not dissimilar to changes in emotions.

One of the things I love the most about running is the challenge of covering great distances and elevations - a recent big day out involved running the Tea Round, starting from Keswick, a picturesque town in the Lake District, and climbing all the fells visible from the George Fisher café 3 stories up. In total this creates roughly a 30 mile loop with over 3,200 meters of ascent. The way a ‘Round’ works is, anyone can have a go at it at any time and scores are reviewed and submitted to a leader board. In this case, you get a T-shirt and a few other bits for completion, and it’s suggested that you donate to the supporting charity Fix the Fells, helping to keep the Lake District it’s beautiful self.

For the most part training is going to be uncomfortable, it’s going to lead to physical and subsequently mental suffering and a lot of the time you are not going to want to get going. This is a narrative I have many days. Everyday I want to train and I love to train, but often I will also spend at least a moment doubting myself about what's in the session, whether I’ll do it well today, and If I should prioritize another task first… nevertheless the shoes go on, the kettlebells come out and the rings go up.

So, in watching the mind in relation to physical exertion you have to begin with the preparation. Preparation is vital to a successful long day out in the hills. You need to know where you're going, where the tough sections are, you need to have plenty of water and food (sometimes fill up points too), you need clothing appropriate for weather conditions and it is good to have a little first aid kit in case you take a bad fall on the downhill.

In light of this, all my prep will be done at least the day before to avoid any opportunity for Mr Doubt to come and spoil the party - bag prepared, water and fuel ready and clothes and shoes laid out. I currently live in a van so if I can set this up the night before, you can too.

This brings my mind clarity; I know I just need to get changed and put my bag on, then head to the start. The night before we ate a lot of carbs, as I always do before a big run - it’s called carb loading and means your muscles are full of glycogen. However, this left me with a heavy belly and the mind found some minor panic knowing that living in a van I would need to find a toilet in the morning.

The flow of thought went something like this ‘I want to set off at 6am before it’s too hot, the toilets don’t open until 7am in Keswick… Maybe the petrol station? No, that's also 7… I can’t set off after 7. That's too late! We said we’d be back in York by 3pm.’ In this time I could have been visualizing the route, doing a light stretch, meditating... no. I was lost in panic and aversion. Rationally, going just after 7 was fine, it was the best decision given the circumstances and still allowed plenty of time for the drive later on. No need for panic.

The next morning, once I was feeling as light as a feather, it was time to set off. The mind was pretty quiet for much of the first section, a few flurries of worry about going the wrong way leading to over frequent head twitches down at watch GPS and in no time I was about 8 miles in and onto the first of the tough climbs. Up Robinson (737m) the legs felt light, a nice couple of Scottish hikers complimented me on my swiftness up the fell… and so the mind lapped that up for the next 10 minutes with a soft but cheesy grin.

Once over Robinson and down toward Buttermere, I froze as I contemplated which direction to go in. This part of the route I had previously done with a good friend and we had gone the other way. 10 seconds or so passed and I made the decision to stick to the watch which proved to be the slower option but the slower option is better than no option. Life is about making decisions, one after another. Often, they turn out to be better in ways unexpected; this way, I found a nice waterfall to fill my water up which I would not have been able to do if I had gone the other way.

11 miles down and onto High stile (807m), the steepest climb of the day. Starting from the far side of Buttermere lake at sea leve,l you go across and then straight up. I’d done it before, I knew it was tough, but I was feeling good.

I was going at a steady march breaking into a run where possible, the route up is not the clearest and there are a few options to take. About 500m in my legs were getting heavy, I actually wanted to stop for a moment… a feeling I very rarely have when hiking or running (unless my stomach is bad which at this point it wasn’t). Some hikers ahead didn’t seem to be getting much closer ‘I’m supposed to be running this, why am I so slow’ my mind said. About 600m up and onto a slightly more scramble-y section, the turbo kicked in… Sometimes a change in movement (using the hands) does freshen things up a bit and gives you a bit more gas.

Once summited, it was across to red pike (which I later found was again the slower option), skiing down the scree and down the long descent into Buttermere village. I felt pretty slow coming down here, legs felt like jelly from the climb causing a reserved downhill push; maybe knowing it was a long section added to this but my mind aimed to console the pace by telling me ‘it’s better to be slower than injured’. In hindsight, I know I could have gone faster here.

At the bottom I met my Beth for some PBJB (Peanut butter, Jam, Banana) wraps and a water fill up. It was hot, and I was thirsty - I necked 500ml water and some coconut water whilst Beth filled my bladders up.

It was now over half way for distance and elevation, but the fluid and food intake was excessive. I felt like I had a lump of lead in my stomach. This next section included a 3 fell climb up to Grisedale pike (791m), although not as steep or high as the last it was at least double the distance and with a huge blob of peanut butter stuck in my stomach, the pace was poor. This was where I thought I’d kick into gear, the last big climb… and here I was walking at snail's pace. I felt defeated.

I felt like I wouldn't be able to run again with consent from my stomach. This lasted for about an hour, I thought about calling it a day. I blamed Beth for putting too much PB in and letting me drink too much, like I’m an infant! An infant could move quicker. After at least an hour and a half of this, I came close to Grisedale and the pace started to increase again. I only had 10 miles to go and less than 1000m.

Once at Grisedale, I realised that I was at least on for sub 8 hours which would be a time that I'd be quite happy with, although optimistically hoping for around 7. I said to myself that when I reach an hour to go, if I had less than 5 miles left then I can do it. And so that became the mind's aim. The pace quickened… after scrambling up the side of Eel crag (839m) I knew there wasn’t much more uphill work to do, my legs were glad to know that too.

A small rise up to Causey pike (637m) and then a steep but short descent to Rowling end (433m). Now to go back on yourself - which in this case, I did too much of adding 200m extra elevation due to stubbornness of sticking to the GPS. Down the valley, across the stream - quickly dipping my head in (feeling like a cartoon character extinguishing a fire on their head tzzzzzzzzz) and straight up to the last fell, Barrow (455m).

The last descent was great - smooth and grassy, letting my heavy legs spin to the gate before entering the last few miles to Keswick. Thinking about the videos I've seen of great trail runners doing other famous rounds such as the Bob Graham, and of all the runners who have done this same home stretch, brought a blissful feeling.

I knew I had at least 30 minutes to do the last mile and a half, running up the streets of a busy Keswick and back to George Fishers, checking my watch for the last time as my hand touched the building... only to see it was dead. A dead watch means you have no traceable route and therefore you can not submit or review your attempt. Feeling a little too tired to care that much, I sat on the curb and sighed.

A moment passed when I remembered I had also tracked it on my phone, great!

An iced coffee, some sugary water, sore legs, a swim in Derwentwater and a Tea round T-shirt later - we were back in the Van, after a great long day out filled with all manner of thoughts, feelings and emotions.

The moral of this story falls from the title. The mind is never an enemy or a friend for long, it perceives, it infers, it judges and it gets lost.

All you can do to not be swept away in it’s every opinion, is to watch it dance with the flow of experience.

Enjoy watching the mind,

Callum

Watching the mind whilst running

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