I guess every good experience is shadowed by bad ones. My mom used to always tell me that without the bad days, we wouldn’t know how good the good days are. Sunday was a bad day for me. I had a good deal of pain in my knee from running the day before and I was in quite a sour mood. Everyone has ups and downs, that is what makes us human, but this Sunday was particularly bad. I struggled through the morning feeling quite sorry for myself, before finally wrenching myself off the couch/chair I was lying about in and pulled on my day old, slightly stinky running clothes. I then decided, in an attempt to cheer myself, to drive to particularly beautiful part of a nearby trail and run my miles there. As it turns out, it was a dreary day all over town. No matter where I drove there seemed to be dark clouds following overhead and a dull sharpness to every leaf, stick, rock, and bit of creek.
As I usually do, I told myself to suck it up and saddled myself with all of my junk and found the best most unpleasant looking trail to head out on. This trail was a real trail. The kind of trail you live to train on. The kind of trail you want to run on, because you know that it will be a challenge. When I am feeling foul, all I want to do is fight, but not with someone else, just with something, like a punching bag or a gnarly old rotty trail. This trail had divets and holes, muddy slopes and rocks, giant roots coming out of the ground like zombie hands, and wet leaves every where. I was wearing my Brooks Adrenaline ASR’s, but they did little to assist me in the hiking-like conditions I was about to face on the trail of Hell.
When running a trail like this, you have to pay such close attention to where you step and how your feet land. Any misdirection could mean a sprained ankle or a serious tumble down a ravine. Joy. As I ran/stumbled on the god-awful trail and my terrible mood did not abate and tears streamed down my face like rain in a torrential storm. This made it even harder to navigate the ever winding trail. Only after falling twice, and swearing like a sailor, did I make a conscious effort to wipe away my tears and focus on the run. Running sad or angry will only ever get you injured, keep that in mind the next time you are furious and want to let off some steam. You need to find that calm half-conscious state and settle into it. It’s the only way to survive the run when the run itself is a trial.
Sooner than later my trail died off onto a suburban block in the middle of a town I did not know, so I turned around and headed back. As I climbed the slippery mud hills and slid down the other side on wet leaves, as I traversed the gravel parts and relished the grassy cushioning, I began to feel lighter. Though the sky stayed cloudy and the sour taste in my throat lingered, my brain and thought processes felt slightly clearer. By the end of the trail, where the dirt path intersects again with pavement, I felt saddened that I could not have experienced those great hurtles without the clouds and moist eyes. But then I realized that my damp heart and the clouds were the hurtles, the trail just helped me come to terms with them.
As I got back in my car to head home, I felt a sense of relief and a calmness come over me that I knew I could handle. Cuz every little thing is gonna be alright yeah…
Today I rested and stretched and made time for healing, which was exactly what I needed. My knee didn’t hurt at all yesterday after that run, or today, and I think I have found the kind of running I am supposed to do. Having some direction in my life, even if it is only "you go run on trails", is huge. Today I am feeling good.
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