Running gives plenty of time for reflection on life, it creates a space where your body is fully engaged with the physical effort you are going through, leaving the mind free to wander. This creates room for inspiration, especially when surrounded by stunning mountains and far from civilisation. This is one of the main attractions of it. On a 26km run in the Atlas Mountains the other day I found myself wondering why people start running up mountains at all.

Generally people tend to enter the world of trail running either from the sporting and athletics angle, or from the outdoor world. The former see the mountains as a greater challenge than the flat terrain they are used to running in. The latter are used to being in the outdoor environment, and see running as a new and different way to explore it.

I am definitely not in the first category. I remember at high school when we were made to do cross-country running. It was all about competition and trying to be the winner. Those of us of a more academic nature were simply not encouraged in any way to actually enjoy the sport – it was all about winning. If you weren’t one of the strongest, fittest kids in the year you stood no chance. This attitude of my high school played a large part in turning me away from competitive sports, especially running.

Years later I find myself absolutely addicted to trail running. Indeed, running up Jebel Toubkal (4167m) earlier this year was the achievement of a huge personal goal.

Eager to improve my technique, I recently read the excellent book “The art of running faster”. It has all kinds of ideas for improving your technique and style in order to run faster, perform better, and therefore win.

The book inspired me to try the techniques, so I did quite a few training runs in accordance with the book. I was conscious of how I was running and trying to maintain correct form and posture. It was a lot of work, and I would come back from my runs far more tired than usual. Pumping the arms more in order to induce more speed in the legs is very draining!

The result, after a lot of effort, was that I managed to shave one minute off my normal morning’s run. A little 8km trail in the hills behind my house was taking me about about an hour when I first moved to Morocco. Through a year of running in the Atlas Mountains, that time came down to 42 minutes or so. And with diligent application of the techniques I have learned from the book, and lots of physical effort, I have shaved another whole minute off.

One minute.

One measly minute.

That minute cost me two things. It cost me a lot of physical effort (which my be a good thing, I don’t know. Some runners say that pain is good). But most importantly, it cost me my enjoyment of the hills. No longer was I looking in awe at the sunrise, no longer did I have the time to stop and admire the majesty of an eagle soaring above me… no, now it was all about timings and maintaining averages, and beating personal bests. The joy of running disappeared, and for that loss I gained a single minute in my timings.

It strikes me that most running books are focused on this subject of performance. It’s what people want, after all. They want to win races. But running in the mountains is so much more than this. The thought of doing repetitive “hill reps” to train seems a bit superfluous when you know you still have 1200m of ascent to go to a particular summit, over terrain of varying steepness.

Needless to say, I have now repented of technique, and gone back to the simple joy of running in the mountains. I have stopped the focus on training and technique that was damaging my enjoyment. For me, it’s not about performing well in the next race. I do hope to run a mountain marathon in the next year or two, but that’s not what this is about. The thought of running up another 4000m mountain such as Jebel M’Goun thrills me far more. The paraphernalia of a mountain race: the health forms to fill in, the drinks stops, the noise and litter, the cheering crowds, the orange direction arrows painted on rocks (an annoyance here in the Atlas, I think it’s as bad as the growing graffiti problem)– that just puts me off. That’s like the city invading the mountain environment, spoiling its pristine beauty.

Running in the mountains is about being far out in the wilderness, away from all that. It’s about being close to nature. It’s about those moments when you summit a coll or a peak and see the view down the other side, thoroughly elated with the adrenalin rush. Its about the times you round the corner of a trail and have a magical few seconds with a wild creature which didn’t see you coming. Wild boar and Eagles frequently seem to appear to me on the trail like this, and almost become friendly companions on the lonely mountain.

In fact, running in the mountains can become almost a meditative exercise rather than a competitive one.

Experiencing this myself, and sharing it with my running clients, is the best thing about trail running.

I find that other runners are discovering this too. Richard Askwith’s “Running Free” is a classic work about getting away from the commercialism of the running world and just going out to have fun in nature.

And this recent radio show highlights the need to rediscover “running naked” – that is, without excessive technology. Gadgetry can isolate us from the natural world if we are too dependent on it. We need to switch it off, and tune in to nature.

So It is with true sincerity that I suggest cultivating the Art of NOT Running Faster. Rather, take the time needed to really enjoy being out in the hills. It’s that sense of magic that makes it all worthwhile, and makes every run different. And I think in reality that relaxing and enjoying a trail run is what will actually make you perform better in the long-term. At least, that’s my experience. I’m now down to 39 mins for my normal morning run, since I abandoned focusing on technique.

There are so many hills and mountains out there to enjoy – running shoes on; let’s go!