Katie Arnold loves to move. Whether he’s running, biking, rafting, or hiking, Arnold always feels most at peace when he’s on the move. her first book, running homeFind out how ultrarunning (running longer distances than a marathon) provided solace after the death of his father. “I was really close to him. He was a creative inspiration in my life,” Arnold explains. “When I was spiritually broken and grieving, my body healed me.”
But in 2016, Arnold suffered a physical injury. While navigating the remote Middle Fork of the Salmon River in Idaho, Arnold’s raft got caught on a rock and he fell into rapids, seriously injuring his knee and being told never to run again. This time, her healing did not come from her movement.
Arnold had tried meditating, but not until her friend tried it. natalie goldberga Zen practitioner and author of 15 books, including classics. write down bonesI gave her a used book by Shunryu Suzuki. Zen mind, Beginner’s mind, that she began to find solace in stillness. her new book, A brief flash in an amazing worlddetails how meditation got Arnold back in action, shaking both her body and mind, ultimately leading her to win a world championship. prestigious leadville 100 (Yes, that means running 100 miles). In a recent conversation, Arnold explores the relationship between mindfulness and movement and how practice can help us become whole again.
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What specifically drew you to meditation and Zen? The main trigger was when my father passed away in 2010. I experienced really noticeable sadness, which manifested as anxiety. At the time, my second daughter was an infant and I also had a 2-year-old child. Like any exhausted new mom looking for some “tranquility for now,” I tried my hand at meditation. At that time, by chance or not, I met Natalie and we started walking in the mountains together. [Atalaya Mountain] I started talking about Zen, started reading more books, and started going to Zen temples from time to time.
eventually, [the real shift happened in] In early 2017, Natalie gave me a copy of the following book. Zen mind, Beginner’s mind. I thought, “I can’t believe we’ve been friends for seven years and we’ve never talked about this book.” I was able to understand it very deeply on a physical level. If you try to explain it in your head, you’ll sound like a fourth grader, but this is a physical reaction.
I understand this because I understand running. Many of Zen’s deep teachings are manifested in running, especially long distance running: suffering and anxiety. I realized that running was practice for me. It was like a current flowed through me.
In your book, you describe zazen as a “solitary monotony” and liken it to running. How does your background as a runner influence your practice? When I had a really bad injury, I realized that if I was going to heal my body, it had to be my mind.when I found it Zen mind, Beginner’s mind, I read it all with running in mind from the beginning. I incorporated it into my running practice as a healing method. It was never conscious. I’m not that methodical. There is no training plan. But when I read it, it all dawned on me. I emphasized that “Zen training directly expresses our true nature.” And I wrote “Running” next to it. When you run in flow, running is how you express your true self.
But then [things] Running became a way to deepen my Zen practice. I realized that running is a true expression of Zen. Now I feel like running is a form of zen and I understand that away from the cushion. If much of Zen is conveyed through action rather than doctrine, I express and understand it more deeply through running and being in the mountains.
You wrote that you had trouble sitting still because you were used to moving around, but one day a friend of yours told you that sitting still was a challenge for you because it allowed you to engage in exactly one activity (running) for a long time. I pointed out that it is possible. It should also be suitable for sitting for long periods of time. Often it is our preconceptions that prevent us from discovering what is possible. What do you say to people who feel like meditation is not for them? There are many ways to practice. I call this little practice of mine “Wild Zen.” Because it feels a little rough. I sometimes think about these things in my head like a daydreaming monk going, “Oh, Katie, I don’t know if that matters.” But often people come up to me and say, “I’m not a real runner. He only runs three miles a day.” And I believe that if you run, you’re a runner. I need to direct it towards myself. Because if you practice something or have the quality of meditation, you are a practitioner.
Start small, make it manageable, and experiment with where you feel most at home.I like going to Zendo [Upaya Zen Center]But I love sitting outside by the fountain and listening to the birds.
The flip side of this question is: What can you gain from sitting still, even if you feel like it’s not your preferred method of practice? Movement or whatever it is that is the expression of our practice can also be a release valve. We can also use it unconsciously to separate ourselves from the moment and life. I think finding stillness is also beneficial. Because silence is another way to be in the present moment, feel your breathing, and observe your mind following all the thoughts down the rabbit hole that you want to let go of.
It’s great to learn that you don’t have to follow every idea. I remember one race. I think it was 50 miles and I felt pain in my ankle after the first 3 miles. If I had followed through, worried, and held back, the pain might have become even stronger. But I distinctly remember thinking: Let’s leave this idea alone. ” I don’t think I could have done it if I hadn’t practiced sitting regularly, albeit very modestly.
“It’s great to learn that you don’t have to follow every idea.”
After your injury, you were comforted by the words of Katagiri Roshi, Suzuki Roshi, and Dogen Roshi, and your training deepened. It’s interesting that so much of our identity is embedded in our physical abilities. How has your Zen practice helped you through this difficult time? After an injury, or maybe an illness, or a dramatic change in life, when you can no longer do the things you were passionate about, you become quite unstable. It’s like holding up a mirror and thinking, “Wow, I’ve become really attached to the word ‘runner’ and the adjective ‘ultra’ in front of it.” And this is a wake-up call that my identity cannot be built on those things alone. I’m deeper and older than that. So the koan: “What were your parents’ original faces before they were born?” Let me help you. Because it was long before “Runner”.
My doctor said, “We’re going to get you back to zero.” Like, he’s going to bring me to my knees with this horrible, ugly, human pain. When you hear it, every part of you wants to fight it. I don’t want to be zero! Zero is scary. But once I got over the initial shock, I realized that there was an incredible sense of freedom from the trappings of self and ego. It literally felt like a hollow house with all the studs torn down, which is also a bit frightening for a moment. But getting to zero was a real wake-up call. In fact, there is beauty in zero. Zero is actually an incredibly free place.
You describe the slipperiness of time, identity, and nature, which some people may find unsettling, but you seem to find it expansive. You can make him 7, 14 and 46 years old at the same time. Wife, daughter, mother, runner, practitioner. rivers and mountains. Do you think meditation and Zen practice helped you reach a broader perspective? absolutely.I read whatever I’m reading at the time, this book is probably my 10th. [holds up Zen Mind, Beginner’s Mind], and sit outside on a cushion, letting the words sink in without trying to understand them. Then I go to the mountains and pour them into my body.Move them, let them penetrate, let them become what my body understands. [on its own terms, without relying on a conceptual understanding].
One day, while reading a book, I had this experience. Ujiand I was struggling with some languages. [Dogen’s] Fasicle on time. However, the very first line, “Stand on the highest peak,” really resonated with me. I was like, “That’s my job.” Then I went into the mountains, and Dogen says we disappear into the mountains, and I felt invisible. I felt like I had disappeared so deeply that there was no one else. Then I looked at the other runners and thought, “We’re all in this moment.” And it spread to my father. I think he was ready for that because he had been exploring death after his father’s death. I just felt it. All the people we have always been are always with us in this moment. It’s really comforting.
“In fact, there is beauty in zero. Zero is actually an incredibly freeing place.”
The stories you share in your book have an upward trajectory. After hitting the rock (bottom), you practice, recover, and even win the Leadville 100. What is central to you in this moment? The real practice begins now. The real training is going down the mountain. Leadville will never be recreated. It was a true expression of my path and my deepest learning. So then disappointment ensues. And then you realize that true practice means being present to yourself in the moment, wherever you are, and living each moment as fully as possible. And sometimes we celebrate without even realizing it. As I get older, that becomes more and more comforting. I hope I can run until my last day on earth, but things are changing. I really don’t know, and not knowing is more of a relief than a fear. Because I can give my all in this moment and know that it will take me somewhere.
