Waybound Series #3: Practices for Presence—Ten Techniques for Runners

by Jonathan van Geuns, May 28, 2024


In our earlier explorations, I delved into the concept of presence in running and the profound experience of being fully engaged in “the chase.” Now, let's focus on actionable strategies to integrate mindfulness into your running routine, enhancing both mental and physical well-being.

I’m not especially drawn to the world of “mindfulness culture,” with its curated calm and spiritual branding, but I’ve come to value, deeply, the grounded, practical ways presence shows up in running. These are techniques, not dogma. These aren’t hacks or fixes; they’re invitations to run with attention and care.

1. Breath Awareness
One of the simplest and most profound ways to anchor yourself in the present is to come back to your breath. In running, breath is both a physiological necessity and a psychological tether—it grounds you, guides you, and reflects your inner state. In this way, breath becomes more than oxygen exchange. It becomes rhythm, reminder, and refuge. A simple, quiet practice that teaches you how to stay with the moment you’re in.

Jon Kabat-Zinn reminds us: “The breath is the bridge … which unites your body to your thoughts.” In running, this bridge becomes a path. Each inhale is a reset. Each exhale, a release. If your mind wanders—into race plans, self-judgment, or why can’t eat another gel—return to the breath. Not as discipline, but as invitation. The more familiar you become with the breath as an anchor, the easier it becomes to access presence mid-run, mid-effort, mid-doubt. 

Try this: Begin by gently noticing the rhythm of your breathing. Is it shallow or full? Rushed or steady? Without trying to fix or control it, just pay attention. As you settle into your stride, start to sync your breath with your footfalls; perhaps a pattern of inhale for three steps, exhale for two. This practice, known as breath pacing, doesn’t just support physical efficiency, it cultivates presence. It anchors your attention in the body and calms the mental noise that often takes over during long efforts.


2. Body Scanning
Your body speaks constantly, through sensation, tension, rhythm, but most of us are too distracted to listen. Body scanning is the practice of tuning in. This kind of internal check-in doesn’t just improve physical awareness, it deepens the quality of your presence. You’re not abstracted or dissociated; you’re fully here, inside the run, in relationship with your body rather than at war with it. It also creates space for kindness. Noticing discomfort without judgment softens our usual tendency to override or ignore early signs of injury.

Chantal Hofstee, psychologist and author of Mindfulness on the Run, recommends integrating body scanning into both daily life and exercise to build emotional resilience and embodied awareness. By bringing awareness to the body, you ground yourself in the now. You stop being hijacked by thoughts, and instead, inhabit your life more fully.

In trail and ultra running, where the body becomes both engine and terrain, this awareness can be transformative. You might adjust your stride to reduce stress on a joint, notice a clenching jaw and let it go, or feel tension in the shoulders and drop them a little. Each scan is a reset, a way to re-enter the run more gently and truthfully. When practiced regularly, body scanning becomes intuitive. It becomes the flow. This is a subtle but powerful way to remain anchored in what’s real. 

Try this: As you run, bring your attention gently to the crown of your head and slowly move it downward, part by part: forehead, jaw, neck, shoulders, arms, chest, core, hips, legs, feet. Notice what’s there. Tightness? Lightness? Tingling? Fatigue? Let your awareness rest on each area for a few breaths without trying to change anything. Just notice.


3. Sensory Engagement
Running isn’t just movement, it’s perception in motion. One of the most direct ways to return to presence is through the senses. As you run, open your awareness wide. What do you see? The shifting shadows through the trees, the way the light bends across the trail, the shape of clouds moving overhead. What do you hear? Your footfalls on gravel, birdsong, distant water, or even the cadence of your own breath. What do you feel? The breeze on your arms, the temperature of the air, the rhythm of fabric against your skin.

Each of these sensations is a doorway into now. When we truly engage our senses, we’re not lost in thoughts about pace or distance, we’re immersed in the world as it’s happening. The run becomes more than a task to complete; it becomes a vivid, sensory experience that invites wonder and aliveness.

Mindful running is described as a way to infuse physical movement with the tools of meditation. It’s not about blocking out distraction, but tuning in with deliberate, curious attention. It is a form of moving meditation where we use the rhythm of our stride and the immediacy of our senses to access the present moment. The beauty of sensory engagement is that it’s always available. You don’t need a quiet trail or perfect weather. Even in a busy city street or on a treadmill, there are sensations that can root you in now.

Try this: Pick one sense to focus on for a few minutes of your run. Listen deeply to the sounds around you. Then switch to sight. Then touch. Let your attention rest on each one, not to analyze, but simply to experience. No judgment, just noticing.


4. Mantra Repetition
The mind wanders, that’s its nature. Rather than wrestling it back into silence, a mantra offers a gentle path home. A mantra is a word, phrase, or rhythm you carry with you; repeated softly, either out loud or in your mind, in sync with your breath or your strides. When the hills steepen, or your thoughts start spiraling, a mantra can be a steadying beat that says: stay with it.


Choose something simple. “I am here.” “Breathe in, breathe out.” “One step at a time.” It might be a reminder of your intention, or just a neutral sound that pulls your focus away from mental chatter. Over time, the mantra becomes more than words; it becomes rhythm, presence, clarity. It becomes the run.

Sakyong Mipham, in his book Running with the Mind of Meditation, speaks to the natural synergy between movement and mindfulness. When we repeat a phrase, it gives our mind something to hold on to. Rather than being swept away by thoughts, we can return again and again to that single point of focus. This cultivates not just physical strength, but mental resilience and calm. Mantras are companions. Some days, one phrase will speak louder than others. Some days, silence might feel more grounding. Having a mantra in your toolkit offers you a way to center yourself when the noise gets loud, whether from outside or within.

Try this: Pick a short phrase that feels grounding or inspiring. Start by saying it silently with each footfall, or with each inhale and exhale. Let it set the tone for your run. If your attention drifts, gently return to the mantra, not to control your thoughts, but to accompany them with intention. With repetition, the mantra becomes more than a cue; it becomes a current that carries you into now.


5. Embracing Discomfort
Discomfort is not the enemy; it’s part of the terrain. In running, as in life, pain, fatigue, and frustration will visit. The question is not whether they come, but how we meet them. Often, our instinct is to brace against them: to tense, resist, judge. That resistance amplifies the suffering. Presence asks something different. It invites us to stay with the sensation; not to fix it, but to feel it. To recognize discomfort as a teacher, not just an obstacle.

When your quads are burning or your chest feels tight, you can shift from reacting to observing. What does it feel like? Where is it? Is it changing? Asking these questions, gently, with curiosity, moves you from struggle to awareness. This doesn’t mean you ignore real injury signs, but rather that you stop labeling discomfort as failure or a problem to solve. Through presence, discomfort transforms from something to endure to something that connects us more deeply with our effort, and with ourselves.

Tara Brach, a clinical psychologist and meditation teacher, offers a powerful tool called RAIN to deal with difficult moments mindfully. It’s a four-step practice that can be applied mid-run or anytime intensity arises. RAIN stands for:
- Recognize what’s happening
- Allow the experience to be there
- Investigate with interest and care
- Nurture with kindness
In a hard moment, this might look like: “Okay, I’m feeling frustration (Recognize). I don’t have to push it away (Allow). Where do I feel it? Tight chest, clenched jaw (Investigate). It’s okay to feel this. I’m doing my best (Nurture).”

Try this: Next time discomfort arises during a run, pause internally. Name it. Acknowledge it without pushing it away. Ask yourself where you feel it and what it might need. Imagine offering kindness, not critique. Often, just this shift from resistance to recognition can ease the intensity and reconnect you to the run itself.


6. Run Without a Watch (Or With It Turned Off)
Letting go of data, even briefly, can feel like stepping off a moving treadmill, disorienting and strangely freeing. When we run with our watches on, we often shift from feeling the run to tracking it. Pace, HR, distance, splits are valuable metrics I use, yes, but they can quietly become governors on experience. We run in service of the numbers.

Without time or distance dictating your effort, you can begin to ask different questions: What pace feels honest right now? What’s shifting in my body? Can I move with more softness, or more strength? Rather than running against something—time, fatigue, a previous version of yourself—you begin to run with something: rhythm, curiosity, breath. Presence often begins where measurement ends—and that can be where your most meaningful miles unfold.

Try this: turn off your GPS. Cover your watch face. Leave it at home. Run a familiar loop or an unfamiliar path, but without any metrics. At first, you’ll notice the absence. Slowly, something else arises: sensation. The subtle cues of breath, the cadence of your stride, the sound of your feet against trail or pavement. You might even realize how rarely you’ve listened to your body without translation.

Try also this: Pick one run this week to leave the metrics behind. Instead of tracking your distance or pace, track your attention. How present can you stay with your body? What details do you notice about the path, your movement, your breath? Afterward, reflect: did letting go of measurement change your relationship to the run?


7. Choose a Mindful Route
Familiarity can lull us into autopilot. We run the same loop, pace, terrain; checking out, not checking in. When you choose a route that invites attention—through its unevenness, beauty, or solitude—you invite presence. A root-laced singletrack, a winding riverside path, or even an early morning stretch of urban quiet, these are places where your awareness must participate. The terrain won’t let you coast.

Sometimes we need to tune in, because the trail won’t forgive a lazy foot. In these moments, your body becomes radar. Running becomes dialogue. Presence arises not through force, but through necessity. As philosopher David Abram writes in The Spell of the Sensuous: “Perception is not passive. It is active, a reaching out.” The world isn’t just backdrop, it’s collaborator. The terrain teaches. The trees speak. You listen not just with ears, but with muscles, breath, and the space between strides.

When you leave the predictable path, you leave behind the predictable mind. In its place: curiosity, improvisation, response. Your awareness becomes textured, three-dimensional. You’re no longer running on the trail; you’re running with it. In choosing the route mindfully, you arrive in the moment, that may be the most important place you can go.

Try this: Pick a route you haven’t run recently; someplace quiet, technical, or unfamiliar. Leave behind expectations. Instead of aiming for pace, aim for attentiveness. Notice how the terrain shapes your form, your focus, your breath. What is the world asking of you in return?

8. Practice “Noticing Three”
In naming what’s here, you remember: you’re here. Presence doesn’t have to be profound to be powerful. Sometimes, it starts with a simple inventory. During your run—especially when your mind begins to drift—bring yourself back by naming three things:
 🔹One sound you can hear
 🔹One physical sensation in your body
 🔹One emotion or mood you're experiencing

That’s it. No need to fix or interpret. Just name them, silently, then let them go. This check-in acts like a tuning fork, bringing you back into the moment without pulling you out of motion. David Treleaven, in his work on trauma-sensitive mindfulness, teaches this technique as a form of gentle anchoring. When we orient toward sensation, we’re not escaping the moment—we’re entering it with care. The goal isn’t to change how you feel, but to notice what’s real.

On the run, this might be: “Birdsong. Tight calves. A flicker of frustration.” Or: “My foot hitting the gravel. Warm breeze on my face. Calm.” This practice builds your attentional muscle in small, sustainable doses. Like any muscle, it strengthens with repetition. The more often you check in, the easier it becomes to stay in relationship with your experience rather than reacting to it.

Try this: Set a loose timer in your mind (or every couple of miles or major terrain changes), and pause internally to practice “Noticing Three.” You might do it mid-stride or on a brief walking break. No judgment, just noticing. Over time, this habit can shift the tone of your entire run, inviting clarity, compassion, and grounding into each mile.


9. Use Gateways: Trees, Rocks, Switchbacks
On long runs, presence can slip away quietly, without notice. One way to stay tethered is to use the landscape as your guide. Choose recurring natural features—like trees, rocks, water crossings, or switchbacks—as presence gateways. Each time you pass one, use it as a cue to return to yourself. Check in with your breath. Scan your body. Reopen your senses. These features become ritual markers, reminding you that presence isn’t a one-time achievement, it’s a practice of returning.

Meditation teacher Shinzen Young, in his work on environmental anchoring, suggests using “sensory cues in the physical world as mindfulness prompts.” This helps reduce frustration by removing the pressure to “stay present” continuously. Instead, you simply rejoin the moment when invited by your surroundings. Gateways make presence feel more tangible. A bend in the trail becomes not just a change in direction, but an invitation to notice how your legs are turning over. A fallen log becomes a moment to feel the weight of your breath. These markers can reintroduce you to the moment without interrupting the flow of the run. The terrain becomes more than backdrop; it becomes your co-pilot in mindfulness.

Try this: At the beginning of your run, choose 2–3 natural “gateways” that you expect to encounter (e.g. every time the trail turns uphill, or you pass a large tree or switchback). When you pass one, take five seconds to return inward; no judgment, just awareness. 


10. Close with Stillness
Just as a run begins with intention, it can end with attention. Instead of immediately checking your watch, answering texts, or shifting into “what’s next,” give yourself the gift of a brief pause. Sit on a rock. Stand beneath a tree. Feel the echo of your movement reverberate through your breath and heartbeat. Let stillness hold you, not as an ending, but as an integration. 

The post-run moment is often overlooked, but it’s where the full imprint of the experience lands. Writer Pico Iyer, in The Art of Stillness, reminds us that: “Movement is only as good as the stillness you can return to.” Stillness completes the loop. It transforms effort into awareness, motion into meaning. This practice isn’t about analysis or stretching or maximizing recovery; it’s about noticing. How do you feel now? What lingers? What’s changed? Stillness lets you metabolize the run emotionally, not just physically. It gives the body time to be heard.

Try this: At the end of your run, take 2–5 minutes to simply be still. Sit, stand, or lie down, whatever feels most grounding. Close your eyes or soften your gaze. Place attention gently on your breath, your pulse, and the world around you. No judgment. No story. Just notice what’s here now. Let your run end in presence, not just in pace.


Integrating these mindfulness practices into your running routine can deepen your connection to the activity, transforming it from a mere physical exercise into a holistic experience that nurtures both body and mind. With Waybound, I believe in the power of mindful running to enrich lives. By embracing these techniques, you not only enhance your running performance but also cultivate a greater sense of presence and well-being in your daily life.