I tried naked running - and loved it

What happens when one writer goes on a run – gasp – without any gadgets at all? Photo / 123RF

OPINION

To be clear, Naked Running has nothing to do with an unclothed cardiovascular workout – that’s called Nude Running (no judgment from us if that’s what you were hoping for).

This is all about liberation from our phones, not our inhibitions.

There’s a popular social media hashtag advocating running without tech – no tracker, no timer, no music. This is called #NakedRunning and it’s all about being free and mindful. For me, running without gadgets is like eating spaghetti without cutlery. But I’m determined to try it.

The Naked Running movement is predominantly a response to Strava, Garmin and other social trackers that not only time you, but also allow you to share your time with others. But now runners are suggesting that an unrecorded run with just the wind in your ears can be a more freeing and authentic experience.

A quick search on the “running internet” throws up people saying things like “I did something scary today. I took off my Garmin and went for a run”.

And “I didn’t set out for a time or a distance, no watch, no pace tracking … I just ran … it was different but I enjoyed it ... absolutely no pressure and fully in the moment.” (Rachel_lou26)

For my last run, before I took a single stride, I selected an ambient music playlist by Icelandic composer Olafur Arnalds, checked my Fitbit was on so my heartbeat would be measured, then I activated my Nike Run Club app to record my pace.

Without knowing how far I’ve gone or how fast, I fear I will be overtaken by a huge ennui – what’s the point? Was that five minutes or 15? The creeping suspicion is that I don’t really like running, I like achievements. The trackers play the role of parents in the playground: “Look mummy! I ran a personal best!”

But far more emotional is the issue of headphones. The invention of streaming, Bluetooth, Spotify means every 5k is an opportunity to explore the entirety of mankind’s audio output.

I have a complex system of running and sound pairing. I carefully weigh my mood and energy levels, the weather, the kind of run I’m about to undertake and feed this “data” into what I firmly believe is a sophisticated mind management programme. I’m my own fitness DJ, on the “decks” for an audience of one.

And to annihilate any of the actual sound around me, I use over-ear headphones and set the volume to “permanent hearing impairment”.

For slow runs I use podcasts. My favourites are Melvin Bragg’s In Our Time and The Rest is History. Fast runs are mostly powered by the punk rock of my youth. I’m strengthening my cardiovascular system to sounds made largely by people who destroyed their bodies with illegal drugs and strong drink.

To run without measurements or music would strip me of my motivating accoutrements and leave me having to draw on my own strength of character and natural athleticism – scary.

But this is exactly what I do on a rainy Sunday morning in my nearby woods.

First impressions: I’m a breather, even at the slowest pace I sound like a man who’s escaped a chain gang.

Do I always sound this desperate? Is this healthy? Secondly, there are birds. I had no idea. This stretch of north London is like one of those jungle documentaries shot in Borneo.

Lastly, I’m thinking all kinds of thoughts and there’s no podcast on the Battle of Trafalgar or Simone De Beauvoir to take my mind off them. It takes about 15 minutes (but who really knows, I’m not wearing a tracker) before I forget about my ragged lungs, start to drink in the canopy of leaves and my body has found its own rhythm.

There’s a woman shouting to a dog called Bimble, there’s a game of football where everyone is mad, and life seems real and fresh and exciting.

The best bit is the thinking. I have dealt with my confused feelings about a school friend I haven’t seen for years, I’ve planned a steak dinner, I’ve sketched out the basis of a West End musical about the construction of the M1.

OK, it’s not all gold but I’m reminded it’s good to have a wandering undirected mind for a while and actually, I’m a fairly sane and creative person.

Trust me when I say lose the tech, go for a run and find out what’s going on in your head – it’s nowhere near as scary as you imagine.