Markus Torgeby - The runner : four years living and running in the wilderness

For Frida

There will come a time when people are

mad, and when they meet someone who

isnt mad, theyll turn to him and say,

You are mad, because he isnt like them.

Antonius, Apophthegmata Patrum
[Sayings of the Desert Fathers]

Contents

I want to thank my family for putting up with me although it cant always have been so easy: Elin, Ida, Gustav, Dad and Mum in heaven and my three daughters, thank you for giving me some perspective on life.

I also want to thank my childhood mates, Fredrik Lardmo, Peter Lindquist, Anders Palm, Mikael Simonsson and Johan Wernbo, for always being there. And Mikael Kjellberg thank you for introducing me to Frida and forgive me for not inviting you to our wedding. I dont know what happened must have had a brain freeze.

Ulf U-G Gransson: thank you for pointing me in the right direction.

Bertil and Ingrid Jonsson: you both know how much you mean to me.

Kenth and Eva Bjrkland: thanks for looking after me and putting food in my stomach.

I also want to thank my new friends: Per Bjrkebaum, Mattias Jaktlund, Andreas Lundqvist, John Nolebring, Gabriel Wennstig and, not least, Patrick Rosenberg you were the one who got me writing.

Offside Press: without you there wouldnt have been a book. You are brave and thats why you are the best.

Last but least, I want to thank Mogwai, Low and Sigur Rs: without you I would never have stuck to the task.

The most beautiful book I ever read.

Rune Larsson, ultra-distance runner

A strikingly honest account of stripping back life to its bare essentials to understand whats important. Some beautiful descriptions of nature and survival.

Vassos Alexander, BBC Radio 2

Engaging, smart, and full of adventure. This book vividly illustrates the power of running, nature, and the human soul in overcoming obstacles and finding joy.

Mackenzie Lobby Havey, author of Mindful Running

A fascinating story about a man dedicated and entirely devoted to his true love running.

Dean Karnazes, ultra-marathoner and The New York Times bestselling author

A frank, vivid and muscular memoir. His story will stun you and teach you about running, escape and life itself.

Chas Newkey-Burden, journalist and author

Celebrates the sheer instinctive naturalness of running.

Phil Hewitt, bestselling author of Keep on Running and Outrunning the Demons

Torgeby has reached the runners promised land, a place of complete physical freedom. The whole book twitches with his urge to outrun the world, to escape the track and return to the trees. At its best, reading The Runner is like following a deer in flight. Torgebys claustrophobic rage evaporates when hes on the move, his problems fall behind the rhythm of his heart and limbs.

Jack Cooke, author of The Tree-Climbers Guide

There is nothing superfluous or pointless in this book. Only heart and taut verbal muscle.

Bodil Juggas, Arbetabladet

Poetic, direct and honest. Read it!

Maria Kustvik, stgta Correspondenten

Jmtland, northern Sweden, February 2018 (outside temperature 22)

I have run every day for the last 25 years. I love running, I love feeling my heart beating in my chest. Just existing in the physical world, when my legs respond and the sweat is pouring down my back.

Its as if my head and my thoughts become clearer as I listen to my heart.

As if I am standing outside myself, looking in.

There is not always much thought, but a sense of being in the moment.

* * *

The book I have written isnt about how to become a faster runner. It is, rather, a book about how you can use your body to open up the door leading into your heart. How you can use running to become a better person.

To become the person you are meant to be.

When I began running seriously many years ago, my only focus was to train in order to run as fast as possible. To win, to be the best. I pictured myself taking part in important races, and I felt I was on track.

Life got in the way, bringing illness, death and grief. Here was a deep well of anxiety, and I found myself right at the bottom of it. My head was full of dark thoughts. I didnt know what to do.

I had to rethink what it was I really wanted, I had to find a way out of that well.

My search brought me into the woods. I lived alone in a Sami yurt in northern Sweden for four years.

I experienced extreme cold, and I felt the joy when the sun brought back the warmth in springtime. I fought the struggles that people have faced through the ages. I encountered problems that our bodies are equipped to cope with and found solutions we have discarded in the lives we lead now.

I had to go back to basics in order to find my way.

I fed on solitude and nature.

* * *

Its impossible to get away from yourself when you are on your own. I think that leaving everything to move out into the woods seems tempting to a lot of people. To live a life without stress. I find it strange that more people dont do this. Imagine being woken up early one morning in the spring by the sun warming the canvas of your tent. Drinking a little warm water with some honey and getting into your running gear. Running through the woods along the rough tracks made by wild animals. Alone with the smell of fir trees, the sun shining through the branches. The heat builds in your body as you run up the hills.

Pausing, alone, at the top, you are faced with endless vistas stretching in every direction. You breathe deeply.

* * *

The sun has just set.

The shadows from the trees have gone.

No lights as far as the eye can see, the darkness is complete.

I light the birch wood in the burner, feeling the heat on my face. I see the flames flickering through the glass. This is my TV.

The children are asleep in the loft. My wife is down south, working in the other world.

I realise that everything in life is cyclical.

And that as long as I am in the moment all will be well.

Markus Torgeby, 2018

Jmtland, northern Sweden, autumn 1999

ITS THE AFTERNOON. The sun is tired, but the light is warm, and I run from the Slagsn up to the marsh below Romohjden. The snow is sticking on top of reskutan. I run across the marsh and my legs feel light.

I run in giant strides across the mountain slopes, all the way down to the Indalslven and past the Ristafallet. I continue down the path along the river and get back on the hill, three kilometres of steep uphill running. I move effortlessly and come back to the marsh with the sun on my back.

Then I hear the call of an elk. I stop. After a while, I hear another elk answering a bit further away. I put my thumb and index finger across my nose and make a call of my own and both elks answer.

They are both quite close and I stand still. At last they come out onto the marsh with 30 metres between them. I dont move. Nor do the elks, and their big ears are pointing towards me like satellite dishes. We form a triangle the bull, the cow and I. The elks have got the evening sun in their eyes and the wind at their backs. Their legs are long and thin, and they look strong.

I run on and so do the elks. There are crashing sounds from the forest as they disappear.

When I reach Helgesjn I take off my clothes and jump in, and swim around until the mud and sweat has been washed away. I rub my armpits with sand and walk naked through the forest all the way back home to the tent.

I put on my underclothes, my thick socks and hat. Steam comes from my mouth when I breathe out. I go out into the forest to collect birch bark and fine twigs to use as kindling. I split some logs for when the fire has taken. I build the fire up with bigger and bigger branches. I keep the fire going until its warm inside the tent, and I warm away the dampness from the canvas.