Just Running

Running the length of Japan isn’t just about running; but it is about just running.

People often ask me why I’m choosing to do this, and they frequently ask if I’ve heard of the sort of influencers on social media who are uber-manly and run around with six-packs, telling people it’s all in your mind and you’ve got to challenge yourself and push past your limits.

I do not have a six-pack. Also, I do not push past my limits, if only because I understand the meaning of the word limit. If I were to successfully push past my limit, well, it wasn’t my limit. One place that I probably agree with these people, though, is that it’s all in your mind. Everything happens in our minds.

Another difference is that I’m not so harsh in my approach. I don’t glorify the pain or the grind. Pain is not weakness leaving the body; pain is the body telling the mind, ‘Maybe you might want to think about this.’

I’ve never been good at following a strict plan. For me, running is simpler than that. I simply do what feels like the right training to do on any given day. I quietly accept that sometimes stuff hurts and sometimes I need to run even if I don’t particularly feel like it. I’m not trying to test my limits or break any records, I’m just going out for a run.

Running isn’t something I have to do. It’s not some punishment to allow me to eat more food, or to support my performance in another sport. I’m not distracting myself with music or podcasts on the run. I’ve only listened to music for around 28 of the 1442 kilometres I’ve covered over the last few months, and that was to work on my cadence. When running, I just run.

That’s why I’m attempting this. It’s my way of experiencing the world. I find it interesting to go out for a really long run and see where my feet take me. If I were to do this day after day, where better place than Japan? It’s somewhere I get to explore mountains, coasts, villages, and temples.

Japan also ties in with my personal practice of Zen Buddhism. Running does too. Moving, step by step, with no greater ambition than the next one. For me, this journey is like sitting on the cushion in zazen: nothing to attain, nowhere else to be, nothing more required.

The line across the map is a convenient frame; “running the length of Japan” is easy to explain, but the heart of it is still the same: one step, then another.

I don’t have a route mapped out. I haven’t spent years preparing. I started training in April. Now it’s August, and soon I’ll be standing at the northern tip of Hokkaido, turning south. I don’t know exactly how it will unfold. That’s the point.

My practice is not in conquering Japan, but in running through it.