The rustling in the leaves and snapping of small twigs were sounds now unfamiliar to me. They could’ve been from a deer, or Sparrow, or a squirrel making its way through the brush.
It was a crisp Saturday morning in February and the day marked 16 months since I set foot on any trail. While in the past year I did have some thoughts of them, the desire to hit up the trails wasn’t strong enough to make me drive to one. I nearly talked myself out of this one.
It also didn’t help that Brooks Running decided to break my heart and discontinue the Adrenaline ASR which was my favorite go-to trail shoe. Why Brooks? I thought you wanted my feet to run happy? I’m trying not to take this one personally.
Now I feel as if I am starting all over again.
In fact, I feel like 2020 was the beginning of me hitting the reset button.
If so, then 2021 would have been like my 1999, and in 1999 (and prior to), I merely dabbled in running here and there. During that time I had no aspirations of participating in any long-distance events much less signing up for a marathon.
However, in 2000 that changed and I decided to sign up for my first marathon in Chicago. I guess you could say 2022 is much like my 2000.
Hopping on the trails didn’t happen until a dozen years later when I was looking for a new challenge in a different environment and with different terrain. I love how trails remove the distractions of running in the city: cars, sidewalks, stoplights, and frankly, the noise. Trails are an escape from them.
But trails do bring in their own set of obstacles namely, wildlife, such as rattlesnakes that could be on the trail basking in the summer heat or slithering their way across, or simply sitting idly along the side waiting for unsuspecting travelers to discover them, or seeing coyotes roaming around looking for food and hoping you’re not it.
I don’t quite trust it when someone tells me coyotes aren’t looking to eat you, and that they’re more concerned with the small animals so just don’t worry about them. Famous last words I suppose. When wild animals are hungry I’m going to assume they’ll be looking at anyone and anything that could be their snack, and I certainly don’t want to be their snack.
Stepping onto the dirt again felt like reconnecting with an old friend that I haven’t seen in, oh, 16 months, and the reunion went a little something like this:
Me: Hey! Remember me?
Trail: No.
Me: What? Of course you do. I used to visit you often a few short years ago, and even several years before that.
Trail:
Me: Well, anyway, I’ve been thinking about you and wanted to stop by and see how things are. You really haven’t changed, have you?
Trail: No.
Me: Yeah, I remember this hill now, and oof this is a tough one and wow, did you make this steeper? You know… I’m…oh man… just gonna make my way…
Trail: You’ve been hiking for two minutes.
Me: Really? Two minutes? No…that can’t be right. <looks at watch> Oh look at that. Whaddya know? Two minutes.
The trails greeted me much like they always have: without a care about how much fitness I had or had lost. They make no excuses and they certainly don’t apologize.
But I am hitting the reset button and this is the starting point. It’s a new beginning and I’m learning (or re-learning) as if I know nothing of what’s to come because I don’t. My eyes are open and looking at a blank slate.
It’s okay to start over. It’s okay to slow down. This is not a competition. There is no rush or timetable to where I need to be or that idea of where I should be.
Since that day I’ve been back to the trails a couple more times and it’s the same greeting each time. I realize you either love them or leave them and I’m not ready to leave them entirely just yet.
Thanks for reading!