The din of my mind overwhelms the ache of my heart, and I walk, tearing myself from this awful psychic place. I go to the only forest I can get to before dark–a few acres at the edge of town.

Here now. No more cars. Light noises: the wind hollowing through empty trees, swishing past the broom of pine boughs. The sky paints clouds over the sun, revealing light once again with a flourish. Squirrels roam.

I sit on a log, letting my mind tread more slowly. I inhale the rich air, laden with life and decay. I begin to feel the chill of the earth, and the wind that tests my skin.

The depth of the forest calls me. I take off my shoes, entering the holy place. Toes unfurl. Warm feet, de-socked, plant upon the soil. The earth is wet and covered in pine needles. Placing my feet on it is vivid and rapturous.

I walk, but can’t stay that way for long. Soon, I am running. I am an animal, running for the sake of runingness. Trees and animal-beings whoosh past me, I am at once a silent deer and a crashing rhinoceros through this woodland of my dreams.

Green. A field on my left. The path turns, and I land hard on a sharp rock. The pain jolts me to presence, and I push on, grateful for the pain, finally, a pain that I can master.

I cease to care about anything but running. I revel in the feeling. Finally, real. This world, not my thoughts. The world has bone and wood and rock. It asks only one thing from me: keep running. Keep running. Keep running.

By the time I hit the road, I am joyful. Ecstasy rings in my body, and I don’t want to stop, so I turn around and find an alternate route back. When I arrive, I’ve hit my limit. I want to collapse, but instead stand triumphant with the sky. I am empty and reborn.

I sit for a long time thereafter, watching the clouds turn to the blanket of dusk, and listen to the bird calls changing to usher in the night. I walk back riveted with this new power, this magical thing that saved me from myself.

It has been well documented that running helps alleviate depression. According to Harvard Medical School, it is even more effective than antidepressants. What I didn’t know is that nobody really knows why it works so well. Like most things, there are many reasons, each of them born from a different world view and each of them legitimate. And honestly, as long as it works, I really don’t care why it works. But research and theories are interesting, and they add legitimacy for those more skeptical. So here we go: why trail running might be the answer to depression.

1. Connection with nature. This is number one for me. Connecting with the natural world gives me an intense feeling of belonging, of being loved, and allows me to go beyond the reaches of my intellectual mind and be more present. It also helps us to connect to our human nature. Running played a big part in our evolution and survival as a species, so it stands to reason that we feel natural and fulfilled doing it.
2. Neurochemically, running acts like an antidepressant. Betsey Welch describes in Trail Runner Magazine: “The discovery that low levels of certain neurotransmitters—namely serotonin and norepinephrine—are often seen in depressed individuals led to the creation of a class of anti-depressants known as SSRIs, or Selective Serotonin Reuptake Inhibitors. These drugs delay the “reuptake,” or absorption, of serotonin into the system, leaving more available to bind to neurons and thereby improve one’s mood. Similar, and potentially longer-lasting, changes in the dopamine and serotonin systems occur in the brain after exercise.” Could it be that we are depressed, then, because we are not taking our natural antidepressant: running?
3. Breathing is Meditation. Ashley Erickson said something interesting in an article she wrote for the Anxiety and Depression Association of America. “My psychologist gave me some advice: ‘Run.’ She said that running helps people learn to control breathing, which is very useful in the midst of a panic attack.” Breath awareness is also the most basic part of most Eastern meditations. I would wager that learning to work with the breath–an essential part of running–carries with it some of the benefits of meditation.
4. Running purges harmful chemicals. From The Telegraph: “During exercise, the muscles begin to act like the liver or kidneys and produce an enzyme which clears out a molecule linked to depression.”
5. Running exercises our use of will. Whenever I’ve been depressed, I’ve realized that I could choose to feel otherwise. It just takes will to recognize my negative thought patterns and bring myself back to an anchor (my breath, the present moment, a prayer, an activity). Sometimes, though, it seems like the will required to do so is astronomical. What better way to exercise our use of will than to, well, exercise!
6. Running brings us to the present moment. Eckhart Tolle says, “Always say ‘yes’ to the present moment… Surrender to what is. Say ‘yes’ to life – and see how life starts suddenly to start working for you rather than against you.” If you are really running and challenging yourself, you are necessarily in the present moment. Thinking about anything but the next step makes it nearly impossible to keep going when you’re utterly exhausted.
7. Running helps us treat ourselves better. When we see the capabilities of this beautiful instrument that is our body, we naturally begin to treat ourselves better. We eat better food and create positive habits that reflect the running we do. All this has a profound effect on our emotions and brain chemistry.
8. Running is fun and fulfilling in itself. Zoe Margolis used running as a way to quell her depression and suicidal feelings. “As Haruki Murakami, author of What I Talk About When I Talk About Running, says: ‘Most runners run not because they want to live longer, but because they want to live life to the fullest.’ Discovering that running makes me happy – wanting to enjoy every moment of being alive – has finally given me something to live for.”

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Written by Nicholas Tippins