Kyle Muller began meditating by accident. Which sounds unlikely, given how difficult it is to deliberately meditate, but the truth is Kyle just fell into it—and he did it while running.
At first, he wondered if he might be having some sort of mental breakdown. He’d set out for his daily run, and within minutes he would enter a state of ineffable bliss, smiling from ear to ear, tears of joy streaming from his eyes. Satori! As pleasurable as this recurring rapture was, it was also completely inexplicable, and for four years Kyle kept it to himself. Finally, he disclosed his secret to a friend who instantly recognized it for what it was and recommended he check out a long-forgotten book called The Zen of Running. From there, the story twists and wends like a playful stream flowing from Mount Fuji in Spring (cue bamboo flute). We gave Kyle a buzz.
Photography: Robin Mellor
‘And for the first time, I saw myself from the outside; I had a perspective shift: I’m not my thoughts because what’s behind the thought? If I’m viewing my thoughts and seeing them come and go, then obviously I’m not who I think I am.’
What got you into running?
Well, my dad would go for morning runs—he was into cycling and jogging for exercise—and one day he was like, ‘Do you wanna come for a run?’ And I was like, Dad’s inviting me to do something cool! ‘Sure, I’ll go for a run.’
Nice.
Yeah, I played football and basketball in school, but—
You’re like seven tall, right?
I wasn’t always so tall. I was a late bloomer.
Do you have stretch marks?
No, I guess I grew slow, then. But yeah, I’m 6’4”, so I’m pretty long.
So, you started running with your dad at what age?
Sixteen.
And then you’d decided to use your runs to do problem-solving and brainstorming while you ran?
Yeah, but that wasn’t till much later. Running was initially just a way to exercise and get that runners high, release some energy, but in my late twenties and early thirties, I realized running was helping me relax and focus and decompress from work and life and from all the stresses we carry around on a daily basis. It was my little escape.
Right on.
And I didn’t have a schedule or anything, I just ran when I felt like it, but then I noticed that when I was running, I felt better and enjoyed life more, so, yeah. I still don’t have a set schedule. I just run when I feel like it. Normally, it’s like three times a week, sometimes four, but if I go away on vacation, I might not run for two weeks; but then I feel like something is a little off.
Yeah, I think that’s the deal for most people. I start feeling weird if I go longer than three or four days. You don’t have a watch, right? I haven’t seen you on Strava.
No, I don’t have anything.
So, where do you get your kudos from?
[laughter]
What?
My god. You don’t know what kudos are, do you?
You mean like Kudo Bars? The granola bars?
What? No! Kudos. Thumbs-up from your peers.
Are you asking me how I feel good about myself if no one knows I’m running?
That’s exactly what I’m asking.
[laughter]
I don’t do it for the trophies.
‘...at first it would happen in these small blips... then the more I practiced, the more I’d discover my key or how to get into the zone. So, I was having moments of pure bliss while running, being surrounded by feelings of love, and having tears coming out of my face.’
Well, that’s weird. Anyway, at some point your runs became meditative, which is a difficult word to say.
Med-i-ta-tive.
Med-i-ta-ta-tive.
Med-i-ta-tive.
So, what happened when your runs got spiritual?
Well, it began as exercise, and I would listen to music and just enjoy the physical act. Then I started to use it as a way of problem-solving: if I wanted to think about something and figure it out, I would use the run to concentrate on that. And it could be something as trivial as like, you know, ‘I wanna figure out where to go on vacation,’ to something as impactful as, ‘What do I want to make of myself this year?’ If I wanted to complete some task or job, I would use running as a time to be constructive.
That’s a great idea.
Yeah, I make art and work in the creative field, so for me it was a time where I could brainstorm projects and stuff.
So, how did that become meditation?
I think it was probably at the same time COVID hit, and I was going through what was a personal rock-bottom of sorts; it put my life at a kind of crossroads, and I retreated into running... And then I started to realize, you know, I need to figure some stuff out, but I’m getting distracted by myself, like, I’d think about something from the past or whatever, but my mind was constantly trying to pull me away from the mental task I had set for it, and I thought it was interesting that I couldn’t even control my own mind, my own thoughts. And for the first time, I saw myself from the outside; I had a perspective shift: I’m not my thoughts because what’s behind the thought? If I’m viewing my thoughts and seeing them come and go, then obviously I’m not who I think I am.
Right. So, did this epiphany happen on a run?
I think it was a slow evolution over the years. I don’t know if there was one moment where it happened all at once, but it was definitely like an unfolding...
So, you began observing your thoughts as opposed to engaging with them, which is the basis of meditation, right?
Yeah, and then I started kind of going deeper, and I realized I was having these moments of, like, tranquillity and bliss and a peacefulness that I’d never felt before. It was hard to explain, and I was a little bit nervous about sharing it with people. I didn’t really talk about it. I thought people might think that I was, you know, cracking up.
Did you know anything about mediation before?
No, I never studied mediation. I’d never been able to sit still long enough. I wasn’t really that interested in it either. So, when I realized that the place I was going on my run was mediation—a meditative state—I was a little relieved, to be honest.
This is really wild. You’ve accidentally become a meditator, which is proof that meditation is a natural human process, right? Like, it’s built into all of us.
Yeah, I think it’s in everyone and they have to find their own key to unlock it for themselves. And there’s tons of different ways, whether it’s tai chi or sitting with your legs crossed, you know, or you can meditate while washing the dishes. But I’d never experienced it before, and it felt like an awakening. I awoke to my own life.
And this was during COVID or a bit after COVID?
It was during COVID when all this started happening. Things were happening slowly, and I was slowly, kind of, coming to this place, but over a three- or four-year period, things started ramping up and going really fast with my experience and my growth with running and meditating.
Right.
So, it was gradual until the doors blew open, and then things... went faster [laughs].
By faster, do you mean you locked into the technique and every run became a meditation?
I guess it’s like... Once I realized the place that I was going, I could get there easily, and I could have deeper running meditation sessions, and I started to tap into something that was deeper, and... It didn’t happen every run; like, if I tried to force it and make it happen, that was a surefire way to not have a good run.
‘It made me feel like there was something I needed to do. And to be honest, I didn’t really want to do it, in a strange way. It kind of felt like Kevin Costner in A Field of Dreams.’
And did you find that if you noticed you were in the mediative state, you’d come out of it, like, you’d jinx it?
Yeah, at first it would happen in these small blips, like, a few seconds where I’d be there. And then the more I practiced, the more I did it, the more I’d discover my key or how to get into the zone. So, I was having moments of pure bliss while running, being surrounded by feelings of love, and having tears coming out of my face.
[laughter]
Wow.
So, of course I was like, ‘Maybe I’m going nuts!’
But you were actually going in the opposite direction to ‘nuts’.
Yeah! And it felt so right and so positive, it kind of trickled into every other aspect of my life. There was a transformation, and that’s what spurred the Run Beyond guide. Like, it had such an impact on me, and it’s been such an amazing unfolding, I kinda wanna share it.
This brings us to Fred Rohé, the author of 1974’s The Zen of Running.
Yeah, so I was talking to a buddy and confided in him about this meditative running thing—which, at that time, I was pretty nervous about discussing with anyone; I was afraid of what they might think—and my buddy was like, ‘Oh, have you ever heard of this book?’ And I hadn’t, so I ordered it, and the first time I flipped through it, I was like, ‘Okay, this is exactly what I’m talking about.’ It was the same thought and feeling I had toward running, and it felt really good knowing that there were other people, and people who had written about it. I did a bit of research and discovered it’s a pretty well-covered topic, and it even goes back to, you know, ancient times and Tibetan Buddhists, and it’s... Well, it’s a thing.
[laughter]
And you reached out to Fred Rohé, right?
Yeah. I got the guide, and honestly, I didn’t look at it too hard because I’d already decided that I wanted to experiment with writing down some of my own impressions, and I didn’t want his book to dictate my thoughts or penetrate my personal process.
Right, right.
So, after I’d written all my notes and outlines about what I knew from my experience, I went back into it and was just kinda like, ‘Oh shit, this is totally in line.’ So, at that point, I decided I needed to get ahold of Fred—
Because you were both on the same page with this stuff?
Yeah. So, I went looking for him and all I could find was an obituary online.
And it was him?
Yeah, the shoe fit. He was really into the organic food movement in San Francisco in the ‘70s, and the obituary kinda spoke to that.
No Fred.
Yeah.
Tell me about how you woke up in the night and knew you had to do something with all this. Was that before you went looking for Fred?
Yeah, that was before. Basically, I got my hands on his book, and about a week later—and maybe because I was thinking about it—I woke up in the middle of the night, sat straight up in bed, and had this undeniable... urge, I guess... I just knew I had to write about meditation and running. And I kinda laughed at myself because I’d never written anything, so why am I being woken up by this thought?
Right.
Why am I wide awake, and why do I feel like I suddenly have a task to complete?
What happened?
Well, then the next morning it was the same thing: a gnawing feeling that I couldn’t ignore... I knew deep down that it was something I had to do, and if I didn’t do it, then somehow, I would be a coward.
[laughter]
‘I feel like Fred and I are connected through this project, and I can say without a shadow of a doubt that I never felt more compelled to do something.’
Yeah?
Yeah. It made me feel like there was something I needed to do. And to be honest, I didn’t really want to do it, in a strange way. It kind of felt like Kevin Costner in A Field of Dreams.
[laughter]
‘Build it and they will come.’
Yeah, like, what am I doing? Why am I doing this? Why do I need to write down my thoughts on meditation and running? But okay, I’m doing it. I’ve never felt more compelled to do something in my life. Really. And after I’d written it all down, I went looking for Fred, found his obituary, and, eerily, he’d died in the same few days that I’d had my middle-of-the-night wake-up call.
Come on, dude. Really?
[laughter]
Honestly. It was very strange. I said to my wife the next morning, you know, ‘I woke up in the middle of the night and now I gotta do this thing,’ and she’s like, ‘Okay, do it.’ But then, when I found out Fred had passed away around the same time...
Actually, I’ve had friends visit me in dreams right after they’ve passed and stuff like that. You could say it’s just your subconscious or whatever, but I genuinely feel like dead people contact you in your dreams. It’s fucked.
[laughter]
Look, I don’t know how things work, but when I found Fred’s obituary, it sent chills down my spine. I have chills now just thinkin’ about it. I mean, you know, the odds are pretty staggering.
Yeah, it’s too coincidental.
And that’s when I was like, ‘There’s something else going on here. It’s bigger than I am. And I don’t get it, but I’m just gonna do what I’m told.’
Totally.
Anyway, after that all happened, I really felt like I needed to reach out to someone—anyone—involved with Fred’s book, so I contacted Dennis Anderson the photographer.
Who shot all the photos for The Zen of Running, right?
Yeah, and, dude, this guy was part of the counterculture movement of the ‘60s and ‘70s with Fred, and he lived on a 1920s sardine boat in the bay. He had photographed the Hells Angels, and... You know, he’s just one of those guys they could make a movie about.
Right, right.
So, we just hit it off, and he thought what I was doing was really cool. I really wanted him to shoot the images and to shoot with me, and he was really excited to do it, but he had a bad back, and at the end of the day, it was just gonna be too difficult for him with the travel and everything. So, in lieu of that, he gave me all the locations they shot at for Fred’s book, and he told me stories about the shoot, and basically laid out the whole game plan.
So, you went off and shot your project in the same locations as a sort of homage to Fred?
Yeah, and it was very surreal running on the same beaches and getting a few of the same snapshots that were in The Zen of Running. Not all of them made it into the guide, but it was... [laughs]. It felt like I could feel what Fred felt when he was making it, and we were both on the same journey, like, fifty years apart.
Dude, I feel like Fred’s got you working for him.
[laughter]
You might be right.
And now I’m kinda working for him because people will check him out after reading this interview. He’s a goddamn ghost boss.
Well, I feel like Fred and I are connected through this project, and I can say without a shadow of a doubt that I never felt more compelled to do something.
Okay, so I’ve seen your guide, Run Beyond, but I’ve never looked at a copy of The Zen of Running—do they mirror one another?
No, there’s not a mirroring. The Zen of Running has beautiful calligraphy and it’s not written like a book; it’s more of an art/poetry kind of... collection. It’s more similar to the inspirational section at the end of my book. We cover similar territory, but in the beginning section of my guide, I get a little more into how to get started running, basic techniques, and things to keep in mind when you begin to run and meditate. Fred's book speaks to similar running tips, but his book has a different flow.
Was it a huge undertaking shooting the stuff for the book?
Man, like, before booking the tickets (to Northern California), I’m getting two friends from the UK to fly in and film and take photos, and at this point I’m like, you know, ‘Oh man, am I doing this?’ Because I live a very humble life and I don’t have a lot of extra spending money—
You’re just going for it.
This was a bold move for me. Like, telling my wife and kids I had to go on a six-day running expedition, spending more money than I have to complete this task... Things got real pretty quick. But the more barriers I pushed through and the bolder I was, the more things just opened up and the more magic happened. At every turn, we met people who helped us, and people who were, you know, saving the day or telling us where the gas station was or a friendly person at a bar who says something mind-blowing and makes the day more beautiful. The more confident and bold I was, the more things fell right into place.
Do you feel like Fred was along for the ride?
Oh, for sure. There was a moment running on a beach in Northern California—and this is, like, one of those post-apocalyptic beaches where the sand goes on forever and huge waves are crashing, and you’re this small speck on the beach... And I just knew [laughs].
Knew what?
I knew that Fred and I were doing the same thing at the same time.
