Running towards the Path

Recently I’ve tried to do some trail running to see if running an ultramarathon would be something that I’d be interested in doing. I’ve never had much interest in trail running in the past, having entertained it at times to be able to spend time with my trail running friends, but preferring road running. I was told about the Baker Trail, a 156-mile trail that crosses the road I live on about 3 miles down. It was close enough to justify playing with the idea of trail running so I gave it a try.

After having a hard time finding the trail along the crossroads, not knowing where to look to find the trails. I drove to a couple of different locations indicated on the map where a road met the trail but couldn’t find any indication of where the trail was. I finally found a section that was clearly marked, parked the car, and then went for a long, 2-hour run, about 11 miles. I was able to quickly discover the tale-tell markers that showed me the path, a small yellow rectangle painted on trees and road signs. It helped me stay on the trail. If I couldn’t find the marker, I would backtrack until I found it and then get back on the trail. There was some trial and error until I got the hang of it, but was able to eventually navigate the trail.

On my second outing, I was determined to find the section of the trail that would eventually come close to the house. I parked the car near a crossroad and set off on a section of the trail, running toward the road that I lived on. Following the yellow rectangular marker was easier this time now that I knew what to look for and found my way back to the road that I live on.

Every time I lost sight of the yellow marker, I would pause, patiently look around, and retrace my steps. When there were offshoots on the path, I would look down each pathway for the yellow marker. When I hit what seemed like a dead end, I looked for the marker. Sometimes it was a fallen tree that hid the path and kept me from seeing the next marker on the other side. Sometimes the path opened to a large field with tall grass and it was difficult to see where the next marker might be on the other side of the field. That marker was always there, guiding my way and I was able to map out another 15 miles of the Baker Trail

The third outing was my test to determine if I was going to do an ultramarathon, and if I do, how far the first one should be. Having mapped out the trail to where it crosses my road, I knew the route for 25 miles along the Baker Trail. The plan wasn’t to run the whole 25 miles of the trail I scouted but to see what it would be like to run the 3 miles of road to the trail, run the trail, and then run the 3 miles back to the house. I ran about 5 miles of the trail before turning around and running back home. After the run, I called a trail running buddy, and the two of us determined that the best run for me will be the 50-mile trail run in May.

I’ve learned a few things in these three short runs on the trails. I’ve learned that trail running is slow and methodical. Pay attention to both the terrain and the markers. The trails aren’t always easy to see and sometimes it doesn’t seem like there is any indication of what direction to go. They are also obstacles that are fighting against me, like rocky uneven trails and tree roots. There are creeks that I have to cross, fallen trees that I have to jump, and hunters who are frustrated that I am out there disturbing their hunt. Your feet get wet from the snow and the wet grass and the crossing of the creeks. Your legs get slashed by barbs. Your ankles get sore from running on uneven ground.

The creeks cause you to pause. They remind you of all your problems rushing by you. You are overwhelmed by the power of the rushing water.

There are also fantastic views overlooking the valleys. Those problems which seemed so close before now seem so far away. It gives you a calm perspective on the problems. They seem more manageable.

The trails take you away. They give you an adventure that you weren’t expecting. Tasks that take you by surprise and thrill you.

And while you are wet, cold, sore, and at times, lost, you are happy to have had the adventure.

And that is the Transformative Power of the Run.