Single Track

Trail running really puts me out of my comfort zone.  I don’t have a lot of experience with it and I have a high fear of falling.  When I run, I have a tendency to keep my feet really low, close to the pavement.  Trail running requires more lifting of the foot.  It’s something I have to think about constantly when I’m on the trails because it doesn’t come naturally. And I get distracted VERY easily.  So, I trip a lot.  Despite that, I was motivated to check out trails this weekend. 

My motivation comes from my new job at a nature center in Elm Creek Park Reserve.  I want to feel more closely connected to the park so I wanted to get out and explore some of the trails further away from the nature center.  With the help of another runner, I managed to convince my Minneapolis running club to check out Elm Creek, some 35 driving minutes northwest of our usual meeting spot.  The other runner put together a plan to run the entire course on a single track trail.  There were many loop options, so we had the option of running 3 miles or up to 11 miles without repeating any of the route.  For those of you who don’t know, single track pretty much means single file.  The course was actually a mountain bike course.  Lots of ups and downs and turns and variety.  No two steps were alike.  It’s as mentally challenging as it is physically. 

I found myself in a similar mindset to Monday night’s run . . . the one where I was concerned about running alone in the dark so I ran about as fast as I could to keep up with the group.  With single track, we all run in a line.  If I didn’t go fast enough, there would be a pile up.  Once again, I had to run faster than physically comfortable to be mentally comfortable in the group.  I tried to keep myself in the front half of our group of 15.  I didn’t want to feel like I was falling behind.  I was pushing hard and I could definitely feel it.   This might sound strange, but I’m not used to my legs being tired when I run.  On the trails, they’re stepping sideways, hopping over rocks and roots, ducking under branches, and Oh the hills!  Trail running is truly a different sport from road running. 

While I was running I kept having the frantic mindset of, “I can’t keep up!  I can’t keep up!  I’m going to fall!”  But at some point, I decided to conquer the mental game.  I changed my thinking to, “I can do this.  I AM doing this.  So what if I fall.”  On I trucked.  Turning right.  Turning left.  Ducking down.  Stepping over.    Swinging around tree trunks.  Over and over.  I eventually made it to the 8 mile turn around and felt a huge sense of relief.  What a workout!  I expected many of us would be heading back at this point, but it was only me and my friend Matt.  Things got a lot quieter as a pack of two.  We had a peaceful run back to the trailhead through the prairie and forest.  When I caught sight of the parking lot, I thought, “Already?”  Trail miles have the tendency to sneak by faster than you would realize.  At that moment, I wished I had pushed myself a little further outside of my comfort zone to finish the 11 mile loop.  It wasn’t until I stepped off of the trail that I realized I still had a lot more in me.  Those kinds of moments are both welcome and frustrating.  Welcome because I’m getting stronger.  That’s a glorious feeling in itself.  Frustrating because I missed out on a harder workout, especially because opportunities for me to run are unpredictable.  Now I know for next time.  I’ve got more in me than I think. 

I was grateful for the run.  Grateful to run with Coach Mitch again after his injury.  (I hadn’t seen him much lately.)  Grateful to be part of the pack again.  Grateful that the other runner had experience on these trails and had planned everything out.  Grateful to have Matt run with me back to the trailhead.  But mostly, grateful for pushing myself out of my comfort zone and gaining the confidence that comes whenever I do that.  

And I didn’t even fall.