Running brings me closer to my Jewish soul

I have not always been a runner.

I started running five years ago, from scratch, after telling a friend that a half marathon was on my bucket list. Now, two ultra-marathons in, it has truly become part of my spiritual conditioning.

I run along the Western Australian coastline in the blazing sun, or into the gusty winds and even when the skies are pouring with rain. I run to feel, to think, to process, to experience and to expand. When I run, it feels good. Mostly.

Running is a game changer, it has shaped me as a person through some of the most difficult times of my life. It gives me a space to tune into myself, get into my body and get out of my head.  

I mostly run solo. I spend thousands of kilometres alone on my feet. When you run, it becomes more of a mental challenge than a physical challenge. Your mind wanders and you have to meet parts of yourself that would otherwise hide within.

It can sometimes feel hard spending so much time in concentrated company with yourself. It gets hard because the voice in your head keeps telling you to stop, but that’s where it gets interesting.

When I go running, it is impossible not to think of the season. I become intimately acquainted with the rain, the wind, the sunshine, and the air. I feel the cold seeping in. I feel a deep immersion in the world around me. Running outdoors, solo and for long distances might mean I’m alone, but I'm also deeply connected to something bigger than myself.

Running along the coast fills me with a familiar sensation. It’s a feeling of alignment and connectedness, singular yet immersed. I feel at home in a space that is so exposed.

In Perth, the weather is wild, from blazing summer sun with little shade, to mighty downpours, and the notorious southerly Fremantle doctor which can feel like running into a wall. Yet the scenery is picturesque in its drama. The brilliant colours of the sunset with clouds lit in pinks and oranges from within. The moody dark choppy waters with columns of rain moving across the horizon. It is endless inspiration.   

I consider myself a free range human: I am an ultra-marathon runner; I used to be a banking executive; and I now run two of my own businesses, in finance coaching and as an artist.

I grew up in a traditional Jewish South African modern orthodox home. I have experimented with varying levels of external observance over the years, but internally there has always been a deeply spiritual connection to my Judaism. Daily modeh ani and nightly shema have been regular anchors in my life. But while running a few weeks ago, I recently realised, that for me, running – like Judaism – is about showing up again and again, when it’s exciting, when it’s painful, and when no one’s watching.

Running has taught me a lot about my approach to my Jewish soul. Other than running, Judaism has been the longest standing continuous practice in my life. Both running and Judaism offer the path of steady, often slow, and deeply intentional practice. 

Daily prayer in combination with the annual cycle through chaggim and yamim noraim, is very similar to my training plans. Show up daily for the regulars, increase the intensity periodically, and then, like through Ellul or a race, set yourself up for success by showing up with more intensity and heart. Running, like Judaism, is about showing up consistently, and building depth and capability in ourselves over long periods of time.

In Judaism, we believe that humans hold a dual quality. On one hand, we are made of dust and to dust we shall return, but also, as humans, we are all created b’tzelem Elokim, in the image of God. In life, I often feel like one or the other, but not both. There are times when I feel like just another physical presence on this earth who will live and die, while other times I feel like the world is so full of blessings that it has been carefully created for me.

I often question how these two energies can both exist, never mind exist together. Seldom do I get the opportunity to feel I am both, at the same time.

However, when I run, I get to experience the vastness of the earth through expansive skies, and life force energy within me. I feel the physical, mechanical nature of my muscles, tendons and bones working in unison as they drive me forward. I feel the fire, the deep drive within me to conquer kilometre after kilometre, to keep telling my muscles we want this, even in the blazing heat or the pouring rain.

When I run, it feels familiar and yet an unusual combination of energy, the combination of being simultaneously alone and connected. I feel connected to my soul, and as I run, I feel God. I feel attuned to my nature, to the nature around me, unencumbered by comforts or facades. Just the rawness of myself immersed in the rawness of the world. Humbled and exalted simultaneously.

The impact running has had on my life has been infinite. It has given me more space to connect with myself, my soul, nature and God. It has opened my eyes to the wildness around me in a way we often don’t experience in our comfortable inside lives. My running gives me the opportunity to show up and do the work to connect with both my body and my soul on a regular basis.

Running has taught me that it is not about winning races or endless personal bests, but about the simple act of showing up and putting one foot in front of the other. This steady effort reflects my spiritual path, sometimes slow, sometimes hard, but always meaningful.