Being away from the NRG and having a pretty lazy Christmas vacation is making me wish a little bit that I was out there checking out the trails and staying in shape--especially when I look at NOAA and find out that it was sunny and in the 40s today in Fayetteville. Although it hasn't been enough to get me to try to run at all here... (If I were in WV I'd run--honest!!) I'm wondering what the trail conditions are like and how out of shape I really am--I usually overestimate my endurance and strength on the first run after a long break, and it kills my enthusiasm. Maybe I should make a New Year's resolution to expect to be a wimp when I get back to WV. I've never been big on resolutions. I guess some people make resolutions to become runners or something. I think I became a runner more out of impulse than resolve. Maybe I just thought I was hardcore because I was the only person I knew back in 8th grade that decided he would run 3 miles for no good reason. Then again, I was home schooled; I guess I don't really think I knew that many kids my age at all.
Even so, I started road running probably around 8th grade. My first 5k was a small race in Davis, WV in the fall of my 9th grade year (I started attending the public high school that year, but I didn't join the cross country team until my senior year). I was tough on myself in high school--even in my "fun" runs, I wouldn't let myself walk or stop. I'd push myself as hard as I could push without anyone running next to me (which wasn't terribly speedy, still). I thought I "liked" running, but I really don't know how much I enjoyed it, looking back on myself now. I think I just liked knowing that I was in more shape than the average high school kid. I had such a competitive attitude and mental toughness back then that I ended up injuring myself in a couple seasons of track & field by overtraining. My goal was the time; my satisfaction was the finish line. It did make well for becoming a better and faster athlete so I could beat my peers. I don't regret my aggressiveness on the track team and cross country team, but I've changed considerably since then in my personal running philosophy. Generally these days, my goal is less a time, finish line, or distance exact down to the 100th of a mile. Instead of liking the idea of being a runner, I feel that I've been able more to enjoy running itself, and I believe that trail running has played a part in this development.
Here's what I mean: after my first couple years of college, I decided to combine my love for the outdoors with my love for self-imposed physical suffering running by exploring the Canyon Rim trails out at the New River Gorge. Thus, a trail runner was born. I had already had experience running in the woods from my one year running on a small-town West Virginia high school cross country team, but I rarely thought to seek out trails for running on my own accord. I stuck to the roads back then. But now--if only I built up my endurance enough, I can cover more ground and explore more areas in a shorter amount of time running than would I on a hike. Zooming down rocky hills and jumping over stream crossings, with a view of the open gorge on one side and trees and waterfalls on the other proved to be much more interesting than pavement-pounding from town to town with cars honking by and the occasional unleashed angry dog to increase my speed for the next quarter mile. I would find myself torn between this ingrained compulsion to push myself to run as hard as I could and the desire to slow down and take in the scenery around me. One day it dawned on me: I don't have to beat anyone. There's nothing here to win. What is the point of driving all the way from Mount Hope to the Gorge to run if I never stopped to scramble up a waterfall, breathe in the brisk aroma of the autumn leaves, or pause in reflection with the view of the New River's snaky course below?
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| If I don't stop to enjoy the view, why run to the view? |
Why do I even come out here to run if I don't enjoy running? If I sacrifice a few minutes on my time, become a little less concerned with mileage, or free myself to walk, recover, and catch both my breath and more than a glimpse of the beauty of the Appalachians, maybe I would then actually like trail running and not just being a trail runner. From then on, I began to really see the importance of loving the journey as much as (or more than) the destination. My high school ultra-competitive self would scoff at this new philosophy, thinking it weak.
Maybe so. But who's really the winner? The person who finished first or the person who loved every moment of the trail?
The more I love running, the more I run. And the more I run, incidentally, the better runner I become, despite my lessened level of physical discipline. Sure, I'm no Dean Karnazes, but what else am I running for? Now I run because I love it--not because I love being better than people.
Destinations are great, but sometimes you just have to stop and enjoy the journey.
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