Being a Little Smarter
What I search for when trail running is a rhythm between myself and the forest floor, one that allows me to float effortless above all those roots-rocks-mud-trees and escape into only running. The trail exist, and I exist, but nothing else exist. I am swallowed up and totally engulfed in an ancient state, freeing up my mind to travel backwards in time while I hurl myself foreword. Unfortunately, the best and only true way to accomplish this is by running alone.
Being alone in the woods has never bothered me. It
leaves me with a feeling of just how small and powerless I am on earth. Without
the falsity of man made infringements, the world seems truly a better place. Or
at least more peaceful.
Mid May of this year, something happened to make me think
of being alone so much in the woods. On a Tuesday night group run on the
Metacomet Trail in Suffield, CT. one new member of the trail running community
stepped on a downed tree branch and turned his ankle. We heard the crack of the
dry brittle wood, and a yelp. Lightnin’ Steve later mentioned that he thought
he heard a second crack, a limb of a human nature. I recalled from my own
experiences with ankle twist that if you keep walking the pain resides and
within minutes you are running again. Well, this didn’t work. We elevated the
injured foot for a while, then decided to walk on out off the ridge.
The park we start at was only a mile and a half from
the injury. Fifteen minutes running. The walk this night seemed to take forever
as each step was painful to watch as John tried to softly place the swollen
foot down. Looking back on the ordeal now, I admire his courage and tolerance
of pain. He is going to make a fine trail runner when he mends. We convinced
him to get the foot into the cold lake before driving home, telling him all
kind of lies about it being only a sprain. The phone call the next day told me
different.
A broken ankle. Made me think about how often I
disappear into the woods hours from a road crossing solo except for my dog. I
do know that I won’t change my habit of venturing out by myself. What I will do
is make sure someone always knows where I am (at least which forest) and when I
expect to be back. The positive feelings I get from the solitude of trail
running are not worth giving up out of fear of an injury. I only need to be a
little smarter. Like I said before, maybe it’s the feeling of how small and
powerless I am on this great earth that is the appeal......
{05/30/97}