The tube that last two, three or four hours

Sea: often flat. Trail up side of the hill: always there

As far as 'one-with-nature' experiences go, there is very little that beats riding a tube on a surfboard. You're sucked into a vortex which is spiralling chaotically but is at the same time a very peaceful place to be.

And if everything goes right, after the period where you are poised in the middle of the vortex, where time stands still – which is in reality a matter of a few seconds in all but the best spots – then you emerge a changed person.

But tube-riding is a rarity for most surfers, which in turn makes it even more elusive for those who are not lucky enough to experience riding waves.

It's a good thing that surfing can fun even when there are no tubes - when the wind is onshore, the rain is pelting down and the waves are barely waist-high, a session can still be rewarding. Like the old cliché goes, a bad day on the waves is better than a good day in the office.

Sometimes, the riding of a wave can be the icing on the cake, after fighting mountains of whitewater and chop. I remember even if there were no tubes and I dug a rail on every wave - the ones that didn't close out - there was often a sense of satisfaction when walking back up the beach towards home.

Battling through the shorebreak taking one paddle forwards then five paddles back, only to sit outside waiting for a wave that never comes, staring at the horizon for a lump – these are all aspects of wave-riding that surfers love. Or at least reminisce fondly about, especially when they are living hundreds of miles from a decent beach.

Having growing up three minutes walk from the beach, I now live a long way from the sea. But I am happy to say I can still get that same satisfaction I used to get from being pounded by whitewater or managing a decent carve on a wave. I get it by running on trails for a couple of hours or more. Not training – that comes under the category of tiresome preparation – but just running.

And by definition, the sense of well-being is easier to get from running than it is from surfing. Heck, all you need to do is put on a pair of shoes and head to somewhere there aren't any people. Unless you are incredibly lucky or rich, it is next-to impossible to duck out down to the beach and score perfect uncrowded waves on a daily basis.

I have never met anybody who equates running with surfing – after all, when I was a kid, surfers were work-shy bongheads, while runners (or joggers, as they were then) were career people who huffed and puffed in their garish shoes and sport-specific tank-tops training for various races.

But just as I never entered a surfing competition, I don't have much desire to enter many races. I have done a few – I first got into running because I signed up for the London Marathon – but the idea of joining thousands of people in the hunt for a personal best is the furthest thing from my mind when I head out for a run.

I just like getting out on my own, in my own head. The deserted trails and hills are my tubes. And if I want, I can ride them every day.