The Allure Of The Trail

As I labored up the winding path of Dogwood Trail on Wednesday evening, I couldn’t help but smile.

My lungs ached for more oxygen; my quads and calves burned, yearning for a rest. And my mouth was parched despite the smothering, humid air. Yet I was enjoying the peaceful rhythm of my body at work, and the rhythm it fell into surrounded by other racers. It was the fifth and final race of the Portland Trail Series in Forest Park, and I couldn’t have been more content.

Over the last two years, the trails of Forest Park have become my home. I have become familiar with its roots, its turns, and the inclines and descents the park has to offer. I love the soft sound of a light rain on the leaves, as well the thick mud that seeps into my shoes and splashes up my legs as I cruise along the park’s pathways. I enjoy my solitary runs that allow me to hear nothing but the rustle of leaves and my footfalls, and I also relish the friendships I’ve forged and conversations I’ve shared with running partners on the trails.

Those were my thoughts as I smiled through that uphill battle. Those are the experiences I wish I could share with people who don’t trail run, and who ask “But isn’t it hard?” when I mention my love of trail running.

Trail running is hard. And I admit, that’s part of my attraction to the sport. If it were easy I wouldn’t feel such a sense of accomplishment when I cross a finish line, or when I tackle a long uphill stretch without stopping for the first time.

But it’s also just plain fun.

I remembered that near the finish line Wednesday evening. I had snapped out of my meditative mood somewhere around Mile 3, and was imagining the finish as I neared the end of the 4.32-mile course. During the last quarter mile, I heard a set of pounding feet growing closer and closer. I quickly glanced over my shoulder, and saw a male runner quickly gaining on me as we rounded the final curve on Leif Erikson.

I suddenly felt like a 12 year old. I mustered all the energy I had, and began to sprint.

“You better run!” he shouted.

I did.

I held my lead ahead of him and gasped for breath as I pounded across the finish line. We managed to laugh between our gulps of air and give high fives to each other, toasting our well-contested finish.

Was it hard? Yes.

Was it worth it? You bet.