Trail Running

I did my first race in a long time. Nothing fancy—it was a five mile trail race but it was fun. Hard. Really, really hard—my legs are sore almost 4 days afterward (and that is with a lot of walking and stretching) and my feet feel like they were run over by a semi. But despite all that, I had a blast. There is something about running through the trees, dodging branches, jumping off rocks, and either crashing downhill like a runaway freight train or blasting up hills like a cancer patient smoking a cigarette on the way to the graveyard, that brings out the primeval nature that we all have but sometimes forget.

At the sound of the gun our small group of racers charged into the woods. We had about 150 yards of open field to pass through before the real trail began. This being my first race in a LONG time, I decided to play in safe and start slowly. But soon I found myself behind a long line of single file runners going slower and slower as the trail narrowed with no way around. The trail was tough. One of the runners commented that this five mile trail run was every bit as difficult as some marathons he'd done. About ¾ of a mile into it, the guy in front of me started breathing like he was having a heart attack. He soon stepped aside. “You OK?” I asked quickly. He nodded and waved from his hunkered position and I figured that meant yes. After all, most teenagers don't have heart attacks—right? There were a lot of steep, long climbs followed by steep drops and longer climbs. The group who put on the event did a great job of providing aid stations and water and making sure the runners were safe—well, as safe as you can be running up and down cliffs.

As the route took it's first big drop, I fell in love. There is something beautiful about crashing through the forest that many people will never understand. I found myself shredding down a mountainside, hurdling stumps and dodging rocks, making a mental note to follow up on the dental plan and verify that if (and likely when) I fly face first into a bolder I wouldn't be restricted to eating Jello for the rest of my lives. No sooner did I reach the bottom of the hill than the trail turned into a climb of (just guessing) about 80%. My quads burned as if I was being branded, my chest heaved and I begged for mercy as the trail climbed higher and higher. And yet there was still a sense of calm—like this is what it's all about; what I was built for. If you're reading this thinking, “Oh, yeah!” and itching to lace up the shoes—then you know. If not...I hope someday you feel it because it is one of the best highs on the planet. Trail running is not at all like road running. The trail keeps your body alert and your mind engaged. Road running, more often then not, is a physical workout only. It has very little to do with your mind—other than determination to keep going. More than once I've done a run around a track or on the road and for the life of me couldn't remember a thing about miles 3—5. The trail is completely different. The second you lose respect for the trail (real trails) it will knock you flat on your disrespectful butt. You can't just zone out like you might on a long road run. If you zone out on a trail you'll likely to make your dentist a very wealthy man.

I climbed up the last hill with sweat burning my eyes but too afraid to stop and wipe them clear for fear of kicking a stump and falling or worse, being passed in the last 200 yards of the race! Suddenly the trees cleared and there was open field with the finish line just on the other side. I gave it all I had with the kids (who were waiting there) racing right beside me. It was amazing.

I wasn't the fastest. There were members of the College Triathlon team who were finishing as I was starting to look for the last aid station. I was awarded a medal—second place in my age group—which I thought was pretty good for my first race in so long. I was well on my way getting a big head when I noticed that there were exactly 2 entrants in my particular age group. Oh well, hardware is hardware, right. More than anything I came away with the unforgettable feeling of trail running. Running the way we were meant to run with body, mind and spirit working together optimally to keep those teeth in your mouth as opposed to shattered all over a rock in a pool of blood. Speaking of which—I need to call my dental insurance provider.