Walking and mental health, hashtag mentalhealthgoes hand in hand for many runners. But is it enough in itself? How emotions can surface on the trails and why it is sometimes necessary to intervene.

This Monday it is again blue monday. The supposedly most depressing day of the year, when good intentions can already be considered a failure, it's still short light outside, and on Monday outside of holiday time. Of course, the day itself is a bit of a farce, but frankly, for a while now I've been feeling like Bill Murray reliving Blue Monday instead of Groundhog Day. The energy has gone out a bit. I don't post much. Walk more closely instead of seeking out grand adventures. And miss normal life, which, even with the elimination of last month's toughest measures, won't be coming back right away.

I often hear people say: running is my therapy. During the corona pandemic, walking certainly brought me a lot. Alone, at a quiet pace, in nature. It helped to release the feelings, to feel part of the bigger picture again. But more and more I, someone who often benefits from being alone, am beginning to notice that this is not enough for me. That the soul, the will to live, is slowly disappearing again. That all days seem to be the same. That I no longer know why I go on. That reality and illusion merge into one another and from a distance I see my life as a bad soap opera.

Happy trails

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The message of many trail runners is life is happy on the trails. There is some truth in that. And it certainly was when, for the first time in ages, I took Ramona for a short round near Hoek van Holland.

She was thrilled that after the hernia she could run a bit of trail for the first time. She went up the hills laughing and mocking the people. incidentally – typically Ramona – the tatted-up fitgirls from Instagram and Facebook when I was playing with the GoPro. Even though we only ran 15 km, it seemed like we were playing outside for hours. And we were both happy.

But after sunshine comes rain. It also made me miss the races and runs with friends twice in this rather lonely period. In the past year I have seen maybe a handful of people (apart from the supermarket) and even that on less than 20 days. The rest: isolation. And that came on top of the pain I was already feeling: lack of challenge at work, several colleagues who did take the step to a new job, lack of contacts, the feeling of not being good enough (who wants to ride with me, when there is a driver) and so on.

Getting to your feelings

In the past, that feeling was always an impulse for change. A call to myself that I needed attention, that I needed to work on myself. Something I used to do every year with courses on emotional bodywork (which is a bit like the rhythm of the trails), personal leadership or tantra. Finding my feelings, and from there determining how I want to organise my world, does not come naturally to me. To create the right mindset, specific exercises, but especially the contact with others, can help during those courses.

Especially in the beginning of the pandemic, I managed to get rid of my emotions on the paths. But as I become stronger, I notice that this is becoming more and more difficult. The moment of breaking, when the emotions are released, takes longer. There is no exhaustion, so it doesn't happen in about 30-40 kilometres. But my feelings were ripe for an outburst and so I decided to design a course of about 44 km. The goal was: as much nature as possible, as few people as possible who could disturb the feeling.

Through the meadows

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The start of my route was easy: I took a section through the Groenzoom that I had also used when testing the Altra Superior 5. A lot of grassland. But then I would go into the Balijbos, where a number of boot trails were on the programme.

The Balijbos is a bit of a strange forest. On the one hand, it consists of a lot of paved paths, tightly paved for cyclists, and outside the bicycle paths on the narrow paths often also for wheelchair users. This makes it not so’a suitable location for trail runners. Nevertheless, there are also less striking paths. Like the overgrown and hardly walked on grass strips that connect the pieces of wood, but also the boot paths that run through the entire park.

For the first section, I had to push aside a fence with a bench where it seemed that no pedestrian had been for some time. It was nice and muddy in the grass, but there were few traces of human feet. Moreover, the first bit was a dead end. Completely in accordance with Komoot, by the way, but I had ignored it because according to my memory there was a possibility to cross the ditch. Why else would there be such a dead-end path? Unfortunately, this logic did not work in practice.

The next few kilometres through the meadows meant that they had to be careful and there was little time for emotions. In the mud, the Superiors did very well, but with cattle tracks more than 10 cm deep, it was sometimes slippery. And although the path itself was empty, I was seen by walkers and birdwatchers from all the quays.

The path through the meadows was so quiet, in fact, that I began to wonder whether I was allowed to go there at all. That feeling became even stronger when I reached the gate on the other side. It was locked tightly. Fortunately, I could easily climb over and continue on a gravel path that was crowded with walkers and stray dogs.

A real boot trail

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While the meadows were already challenging, the next path promised real fun. If I could find it, because the entrance was not very clear. But it was a very winding boot path with again deep mud tracks. And I did not slip once, although I did have to keep my legs in a bit of a cramp and make small quick steps.

I was surprised to hear people behind me even on this path. Exactly at a nice point where you had to cross a few boards and where I wanted to take a photo. I didn't feel like it and so I walked on a bit faster.

A little later, I no longer had to fear any pursuers. The path had changed into something that looked like a pond. Although it was cold, I had the greatest fun in the mud and puddles. But again, it distracted my attention from what I had actually started walking for.

Crowds of people

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After a few kilometres of boot path, I came out of the forest with a thick layer of mud on my shins. I saw the walkers and other runners looking at me a bit. Especially when I kept on stomping through the puddles next to the cycle path on a bridle path. A bit faster than the runner on the tarmac. Actually, I was going to eat quietly, but a little devil in me chased him until we went under the railway line in the direction of Dobbeplas.

Around the Dobbeplas, it was even busier than in the Balijbos. Because I took the whole park in a slalom, I also encountered a lot of dog walkers and walking clubs. It was quite a nuisance that they do not always move aside and continue to walk on the path two men wide. The annoyance was limited because I had to eat a little bit twice (for the first time during this run), that probably had something to do with pushing up another runner...

Those who read these blogs more regularly know that you can cover a nice distance (25+ km) in the Delftse Hout and Bieslandse Bos alone without doubling up on paths. In this case, however, I went for quieter areas and new paths. If I would have run a lot in the Delftse Hout, I would almost certainly have had to do the last few kilometres on tarmac, unless I would have made the round trip a lot longer.

Ackerdijkse Bos

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In this case, I left the Delftse Hout as far as possible to the right and continued via paths that were as unpaved as possible to the Ackerdijkse Bos. That was not easy, because through the neighbourhoods you can hardly avoid asphalt. Nevertheless, here and there a green path could be seen.

In the meantime, fatigue also set in. And the emotions slowly started to bubble up. They even took me out of the rhythm of my breathing for a moment, making me feel like I was suffocating. But it was still too busy. Even at the ‘hide’ in art park Ackerdijkse Bos I could not escape the attention.

Fortunately, my route had another advantage: at the end of the forest, it went over a small plank into the meadows. Again, this was a boot path. And although a lady with a dog tried to chase me for a moment (dogs were prohibited), I could finally just be myself here. Crying, screaming and the other things that my red-dressed friends do to stay healthy. It hurt, but it also relieved.

But I also realised that I really need more than just the trails. Alone is alone, I had to admit after almost 2 years of trail running as a maintenance. It really helps if there is a plan to guide the ‘madness’ and to turn it into action. Without support and a mirror from others, you won't get there either. So when I got home, I decided to see if anything was possible again, preferably in the short term. (And since then I have registered for the course in Emotional Bodywork at De Schans).

Through the mud

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After the meltdown, rest followed. Without any hurry, I went home again. I knew the rest of the paths all too well and I thought they were not that difficult. That turned out to be a false assumption, because the hardest part of this whole route was actually the clay path along De Zweth. Because cyclists had ridden this entire stretch, grip was practically impossible to find here. At some points, walking was the maximum you could do.

Once past the mill, I could continue on the grass. I could speed along on the small dike, while the sheep left me alone for once. It was getting dark already.

Beforehand, I had expected to come back in the dark. I wanted to use that to try out my new LedLenser Neo 10. I had actually bought it because it had a vest and a red rear light. When I opened the package I almost sent it back: the red back light was no bigger than a battery indicator and the vest looked very cheap and provisional. Against my better judgement, I wanted to try it on. I have known it: in the half darkness, the fastening clip of the vest jumped away immediately and I have not found it again. In terms of material, the clip was not much better than the white plastic bread bag clip. All in all, quite a disappointment and I ended up hanging the lamp in a pocket of my vest. If you are looking for a lamp with a good battery life: avoid LedLenser.

Finally, after 6 hours and 44 km, I was home. Relieved and also proud of my almost entirely unpaved blubber trail. But also in the knowledge that we should not blind ourselves with the positive effects of running on mental health. Sometimes you just really need more, you need others. And we had better be honest about that too.

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