Trail Running

In the excitement of successfully meeting running goals every week, I keep forgetting to mention to the people who aren't part of my running community that I'm trail running, not road running. And yes, there is a BIG difference. I ran less than half a season of cross country in college and hated it, as most of it was spent running on the road.

Trail running engages your senses - you have to pay attention to where your feet are, what obstacles are in your way, and how you're going to navigate those obstacles. It's not just running, it's also an obstacle course. One that takes me through some beautiful scenery that is constantly changing. Spring brings wildflowers, like the mother lode of red trilliums I discovered out back two years ago, trailing arbutus, pink ladyslippers, trout lilies, bird-on-the-wing, windflower,and bluebead lilies. Summer changes the flowers, and, if it's wet, brings out colorful fungi. Fall brings the reds of red maple, sugar maple and red oak, yellows of aspens, birch, and striped maple, and, if you're lucky, the deep purple of white ash. Beeches start as yellow and then turn copper and stay on the trees. Winter (hopefully) turns everything white with snow or silver with ice. I love the silhouettes of the bare branches of the broad-leaf trees against the sky, regardless of whether the sky is intense blue or muted grey.

I love the sounds, too. The thump of my feet coming down on earth instead of pavement, the rustle of leaves in the fall, the soft crackling of frost on cold days before the snow falls, and the various sounds the different types of snow makes. And the sounds of the birds. In the spring and summer, there's a whole orchestra of bird song, both year-round residents and migratory nesters. As the summer fades to fall, just the residents are left, making different calls now, less worried about proclaiming territory and more about finding food and avoiding predators. Occasionally, I hear more rare bird calls - the hoots of barred owls, the nasally peent of woodcocks, the drumming of a ruffed grouse, the annoyed-sounding call of the pileated woodpecker.

Occasionally, I get a treat - deer running down the trail past me while I was stretching one morning, crows mobbing a barred owl or a hawk, a raven calling, a set of fresh, perfect raccoon tracks in the clay of a stream bed.

The other thing about trail running that I love is the community of runners who introduced me to it and constantly offer me encouragement when I need it, answer my questions, and make as big a deal about my mile and half as they do about other people’s marathons and ultras. They cheer just as loudly for the last racer to cross the finish line as they do the first, I’ve witnessed it from the days before I started running, when I volunteered to help at a couple of snowshoe races, and I’ve been the beneficiary of that loud, enthusiastic cheering as the last person to come in. Heck, that race, I finished six minutes behind the next-to-last finisher, it was around 14 degrees, and getting dark when I staggered across the finish line, and there were at least a dozen people waiting who didn’t have to be there to cheer me in. You don’t forget that kind of support.

When I first started running, I was pretty haphazard about it. I'd started out on the Couch to 5K program at least two other times, and never made it past the third week. I had the best of intentions, but sometimes I just didn't want to go out there. Too hot, too cold, too wet, too tired, not enough time, etc. I'd promise myself that I'd go out the next day, and then the next day would arrive, and I'd put it off for the day after that. Finally, I'd just stop trying. And then the running shoes and the racing snowshoes that I'd invested in would sit there and silently mock me. At the end of September 2016, I adopted Beau, a year-old, 30 pound bundle of energy of the canine persuasion. He needed exercise, I needed exercise, and those running shoes still sat there mocking me. We started the Couch to 5K together, and have just successfully finished week 4. He keeps me honest and on track, he doesn't care what the weather is, he just wants to go. Back when I first started running, my friend Christine gave me the best advice I've gotten so far: find a running partner. Beau's my partner, we'll finish the program together. My reward will be being in shape for the Bradbury Squall, the first race of the Bradbury Mountain Snowshoe Series. Beau's will be my continued running. I think we make a pretty good team.

And this why I am a trail runner.