Yeah that’s right, I call flat road (or track) running “actual running.” By actual running, I mean the type of running that you’re simply either forced to do in order to stay in shape, or forced to do for a sport or as a means of punishment. Or you’re slightly masochistic and get a strange pleasure from the misery of it. So yeah, I’m a bit jaded when it comes to running.
“But yet I run all the time.”
And people always ask me why I enjoy running as my main means of exercise. I find a subtle enjoyment in the look of confusion and mild shock when I tell them that I don’t enjoy running at all. Especially last spring when I trained for, and ran, a marathon. I justify it as the easiest and most cost-effective way to stay in shape (and I guess it’s good for your mental discipline too). But I’ve recently had a running epiphany! The past few months I’ve started to experiment with trail running. Luckily, living in a very rugged area of the country, there are countless amazing trails to run, and a lot of fellow runners to help you out through their experience and enthusiasm. At the end of the day though, it is up to you to get out there on trail.
I did my first (legitimate) longer distance trail run two weekends ago in Capitol State Forest near Olympia, WA. And I enjoyed it! I’m sure a lot of that had to do with the novelty of trying something new, as well as the adventurous aspects involved (we had gotten fresh snow overnight, so the trails were beautiful). But I also had a few moments where I just couldn’t stop smiling, and at the end of the run I felt the good type of tired—
“the type where you feel like you’ve accomplished something, and also enjoyed accomplishing it.”
Here are some of the reasons why I think I’m enjoying trail running so far, and why I’m optimistic about future enjoyment as well:
- There’s more varied body movement (you’re not just pounding your feet against the pavement over and over).
- The locations are usually more picturesque, and being on trails nets you a much more intimate experience with nature.
- It’s more immersive and goal oriented—you’re more focused on avoiding little obstacles and constantly cresting hills/terrain instead of just trying to go faster.
- You focus less on speed, and more on the mental challenge. This is important because when you stop running competitively, you need to learn how to push yourself and fulfill your personal ambitions.
- Most importantly—you get much more street cred as a trail runner, and you also have much cooler gear. People assume that you’re constantly teetering along cliffs and fighting off wild animals.
- There’s much more adventure involved!
So building on my last point, here’s a brief overview of my most recent trail run last weekend in Capitol State Forest. I started around 9:15am from the trailhead at Margaret McKenny Campground. The drive up was a bit interesting with the lowland snow we’ve gotten lately, and the “hope it melts” attitude towards snow removal and plowing in the PNW. But I made it OK. Surveying the conditions, I briefly considered running in low top boots as there was 2-3 inches of snow at the trailhead, and it would only be deeper with the elevation gain. But I decided to rough it in my trail runners. About a mile and 500 feet of gain into the run, I had the first of a few adventures. I spotted a clearly panicked fellow trail runner sprinting back down the trail. As we approached each other, I saw that, besides his rather uncomposed demeanor, he was also carrying a large stick with him. “There’s a cougar up there!” he yelled. Immediately panicking as well and assuming the cat must be chasing him, I asked how much distance we had (before we were mauled to death by the approaching beast). “Oh no, there are just some fresh tracks on the trail up there.”
“What a disappointment, I was so ready for a showdown with a cougar.”
So I pushed on up the trail, found the offending cougar tracks and the area where my brave compatriot’s tracks turned around, and decided to explore farther. Jogging very slowly, I proceeded up the trail alongside the cougar track, keeping a keen eye out for any signs of movement (check out the Youtube video of a cougar in Capitol State Forest below). About a half mile of this attentive trot, and the cougar tracks veered downhill and off the trail.
So I picked up my pace and continued on. I get asked a lot if I’m afraid of wild animal attacks, or if I think about them a lot when I’m out hiking. Generally, my attitude is this: I’m in their territory, and they’re in control. If they want to attack me, I can do very little about that, so why worry about it? Right? Anyways, I continued on uphill, still a ways from the halfway point. There’s a steep climb about three miles into the McKenny Trail, which is situated on a north facing slope in heavy tree cover. Anyone with a bit of experience with snow and terrain will know that north facing slopes collect the most snow since they get less direct light from the sun (preventing melt off). So I ended up doing the most strenuous climb of the run in 6-8 inches of snow. But it was a beautiful morning, and the surroundings made up for the rough uphill slog.
A word of advice to anyone who’s hiking or running in Capitol State Forest—bring a map with you when you head out on trail! I generally have a good sense of direction and can remember trail connections and junctions in my head when out there, but Capitol State Forest is an exception. There are many unofficial way trails that dead-end, and most of the official trails frequently cross forest service roads, sometimes picking up 50-100 feet down road. My first time up there I took a couple of wrong turns, so just a heads up. Last weekend I ended up looping from the McKenny Trail to the Lost Valley Trail and finally to the Mima Falls West trail, using the Mima Falls Cut to connect back to the McKenny trailhead. It’s a counter-clockwise, nine(ish) mile loop. By the time I arrived at Mima Falls (about seven miles in), which is the biggest attraction along this group of trails, I was getting to the “no longer caring about personal well-being” stage. This is the stage where you are in the rhythm, and nothing bothers you. Steep climbs, massive puddles, quicksand mud—they no longer matter.
“The “no longer caring about personal well-being” stage is most easily explained as the point in your adventure when you are no longer worried about how wet your feet are getting, how the moisture penetrated your footwear, and how gross every step feels.”
At the beginning of hikes we often try to avoid puddles and carefully navigate creek crossings, only to stomp right through the same obstacles on the way down. Besides high alpine scenery, these are my favorite moments of hikes—or as I’ve recently found out, trail runs. I was well into this awesome phase of mental delirium when I passed some suburban hikers (the type that wear jeans and scarfs) just before they made it to the falls. I enjoyed the poorly hidden looks of dread and disgust when they witnessed my muddy, wet, worn out, and “no longer caring about personal well-being” mode self. After that touching encounter, the last mile or so of trail was uneventful. I soon splashed out of the woods into the parking lot, where it took me three attempts to successfully navigate my car through the icy uphill exit. I’m hoping that I continue to trail run, because in making running fun, it surely has to be something special!
Don't Know Until You Go 