“The overzealous, driven competitor who pushes themselves beyond the limits of their body only to collapse in exhaustion, is no closer to enlightenment than the sedentary individual who avoids physical exertion entirely.”

OK… I admit it is unusual to be reading an adventure Substack, and suddenly existential philosophy pops up. Personally, I am increasingly trying to connect these two worlds as I reclaim my fitness and try to ‘do different’ than before.

My shift in physiology with age (and wisdom) requires a shift in philosophy. I have described myself as a ‘failing Buddhist’ for about twenty years. I believe we can find Buddha in the mountains, with off-road endurance sport a door to the sublime pursuit of peace, and you have probably experienced it too.

Now, don’t worry, this is not a blog of spiritual conversion but more of exploration. Stick with me.

To suggest that a trail runner, a fell walker or an outdoor swimmer can experience something akin to the Buddhist pursuit of enlightenment might seem a stretch. To many of us, these activities are fundamentally physical, driven by the more animal needs for speed, stamina, and the occasional triumph of the will over weakness. But, as with so much else in life, is the question increasingly not merely what we do, but how we do it?

In the mountains, beneath the wide sky, or across the jagged, winding trails, the Buddha is everywhere if we care to notice, and it is not a matter of some transcendent presence. The Buddha, if momentarily appearing in a Gore-Tex jacket and bobble hat, would likely advise us to look instead to the earth beneath our feet. The idea that we may walk, run, and breathe our way to a deeper understanding of our human condition… and before you dismiss it as all a bit ‘woo woo’ then I challenge you to admit to yourself that at some point you’ve experienced something ‘beyond’ when you are out on the fell?

I thought so. Let’s continue.

The Mindful Step

Buddhism teaches us that all suffering is caused by attachment. In the hills, where the terrain itself demands both alertness and focus, one cannot help but engage in a kind of awareness that transcends the distractions of daily life.

The mind becomes captivated by each stride, each shift of balance, each painful, yet invigorating, push of muscle against muscle. It does not hold on but moves on. The world’s cacophony of news, opinions, and expectations fades. It is no longer a matter of ego or achievement, but simply a matter of walking or running as though for its own sake.

Just like in the practice of meditation, the runner or walker can learn to concentrate, to fix attention on the present moment, rather than becoming lost in self-referential thoughts about the past or the future.

The beauty of running, particularly to me, has always been that the external environment acts as both a challenge and a sanctuary for the practitioner. There is no room for the normal distractions of modern life. Those social media feeds (except for those IG posers), the unrelenting demands of the workplace, or the endless noise of others’ opinions. There is only the present moment: the dirt beneath your feet, the rhythm of your breath, the sharp edge of a rock or the sharp pain in your leg that announces the suffering of the body.

It is here that you find, paradoxically, a great relief from the very daily suffering that afflicts us all.

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Take the Middle Path

It is common to think of Buddhism as an ascetic philosophy, an adoption of renunciation where one must sever all attachment to physical pleasure or worldly success, but this is a huge misinterpretation.

The true essence of Buddhism is the Middle Path, the avoidance of extremes, the cultivation of balance. This principle is embodied perfectly in our sports. The overzealous, driven competitor who pushes themselves beyond the limits of their body only to collapse in exhaustion is no closer to enlightenment than the sedentary individual who avoids physical exertion entirely.

The key is not in extremes but in the right measure, in recognising the limits of the body, and in listening to the subtle feedback it gives as you climb, race, or walk.

As you ascend a mountain pass, it becomes apparent that the moment one tries to defy the natural rhythms of the body, one is only inviting suffering. In the same way, we cannot force ourselves toward happiness, nor can we run away from suffering.

The Buddhist principle of right effort, the balanced pursuit of virtue, mirrors the careful pacing needed in these activities. You must learn to listen to your body and maintain a pace that respects both your capacity and your need for recovery.

Too fast, too much, too soon and you will crash. Too slow, too reluctant, and you will fail to arrive at the summit. In the middle, between the extremes, lies the answer. This is a recent revelation that comes with age and a counter to some of the general ‘go hard or go home’ rhetoric found at lycra-clad ‘mamil’ coffee stops.

Impermanence and the Art of Suffering

Buddhism teaches that all things are impermanent, that nothing, no pain, no joy, no success, no failure lasts forever. This is especially evident in our sports, where pain and fatigue ebb and flow.

As you ascend a steep incline, your legs may begin to burn with the heat of effort, but this will not last forever. Similarly, there will be a moment when you crest the ridge, and the sweet relief of the flat trail, or the downward descent, will greet you. And that, too, will not last forever.

In the same breath, the profound exhaustion of a long race or hike will fade, and with it, so too will the fleeting ecstasy of crossing the finish line. This too shall pass.

The running trail can be a living metaphor for the flux of human experience. For those of us who practice endurance sports with a mind tuned to Buddhist principles, each pain, each fleeting moment of success or failure, becomes an opportunity to deepen one’s understanding of the transitory nature of existence.

Big stuff, eh? Stick with me a touch longer…

The great lesson here is not simply to endure, but to understand why we endure. To appreciate that, we run not for the avoidance of suffering, but to experience it fully, and in doing so, to let go of our attachment to it.

The Connection to Nature

While I was running a Lakeland path last weekend, nature was on full display. The trees, the mountains, the streams offered nothing but their own existence, serene in their lack of need for validation.

My learning was that the mountains endure without regard for my human struggle. There is no winner in nature, no competitive race between me and the trail. There is only the experience of traversing the natural world with respect and humility.

As you ascend, climb, or run across these wild places, you may encounter moments of tranquillity where the world recedes. It is here, perhaps, that the true meaning of Buddhism, the impermanence, the mindfulness, the Middle Path reveals itself most powerfully. The mountain does not judge; the trail does not question your worth. You, the runner or walker, are merely a part of it, passing through it, existing as one with it, however briefly.

The Bodhisattva Runner

In the end, there is something undeniably spiritual about the practice of endurance sports. In our pain, effort, and moments of clarity, we may find ourselves not merely attempting to conquer a race, but transcending the self, a fleeting, but genuine, insight into the nature of existence.

Perhaps we can permit ourselves to imagine, then, that the fell runner is a kind of modern-day bodhisattva, driven not by an attachment to ego or victory but by a desire to experience the world in its full, unfettered reality.

What really endures, what remains constant, is the practice of awareness, the journey of self-discovery. And perhaps, in the final reckoning, that is the only race worth running.

Stuart Rimmer MBE is a mountain lover, educationalist, performance coach, strategy consultant, author and now 'very former' endurance athlete; living and working between London and Cumbria. He is the founder of innermountaincoach.com.

Further reading

• Are you suffering from learned helplessness?

• Are our best days behind us or are they yet to come?

• Methods to master the mental demands of endurance sport