How it feels

Looking through my first few posts on the blog, I realized how much emotion came through my words.
It's true that the events I'm writing about are still intensive for me, and I hope to get 'cooler' with time and experience. Now, to have it out, I'd like to post purely on the feeling that trail running brings about in me. It's a complex mixture of good and bad. The bad that makes you stronger, and the good that gives you the fuel for life.

Nugged by other runners' posts, I will start with the dark side of training. If I ever perceive anything negative about running, it is the feeling of difficulty that arises at a certain level of discomfort. It is sometimes hard to take the first step out into the cold day, when you've been freezing next to an open window for a few hours already. At other times, it's hard to convince yourself to get up when it's still dark outside and get dressed for running, leaving your breakfast for a later appointment. It is hard to resist skipping the last lap planned for the day, when you're feeling tired. To set off later for your day on the trail, upon a request of friend willing

to join in at lunchtime only. It's not easy to start running with sore muscles, with blistered feet. With an irritated knee. It's hard to run extra early because of work. It's hard to run after a full day of hard work. It's not easy to train, knowing you're going to do some more tomorrow, and the day after, and already feeling the fatigue. To watch weight, even for 80% of the time.

If you start asking yourself the question: why am I doing it?, it means you're tired. Really. Take a breath, ease down for a moment, but for a moment only. Remind yourself of your goal. Of what it's worth to you. Of how you have to prepare for it. Why you're after it. Don't let the mood set in.

The price of being able to do difficult long runs, is HAVING to do such runs repeatedly. Keeping in shape. But then, the reward is out there, waiting for you, after the next bend, or maybe behind next hill.

I can't easily name that feeling that I bring back down with me each time I set out on the trail, especially on a longer run in a montaneous area. It's not like exhilariation or enthusiasm, but rather a sort of a calm and peacefulness. The certainty that 'I can do it'. The feeling of not being afraid, of being ready to take on the world. The life itself. It feels like... waking up from a good night of sleep. Like having a chat with a friend. Knowing that everything's gonna be alright. The feeling of being stronger. Some sort of satisfied nostalgy, when you're finally heading home. This is the prize I'm after.

No wait... there's more to it. The beauty of the trail, the journey itself, as they say. I like the glimpse of the sun rays biting through the woods. I like to see the sun in the full horizon in front of me, at the start of the trail. I like to have it warm my back at the end of the day. I like to stare into the sun, leaving the sunglasses for the moment I literally go blind. I like to see my goal from a distance, to inch my way toward it until I get there. I like to have a fresh apple in the afternoon of a hot day in the mountains. I like to take a timed climb to a mountain hut seated at the foot of a glaciar valley, and get myself a hot tea with lemon once I get there. I like to meet other trail runners or hikers in the middle of deserted wilderness and to greet them with a nod. I like to feel the freedom of choosing to go right or left at the crossroads. I like to take a siesta on a mountain meadow at noon. I like to sit by a mountain lake and watch the fish swim.
I like to sprint the last 100 metres leading to a summit. I like to run in pouring rain, and in a snow tempest. I like to run close to the enraged waves of the lake under strong wind. I like to run during a lightning storm. Of course, provided I don't make out the only grounding available. I like to run in subzero temperatures, and in the summer heat. I like to run in deep snow, in the mud, across a stream. I like to come off the trail with my

shoes filled with mud, carrying a few scratches from the rocks on the way. I like to bring myself to my limits, and each time a little bit beyond, so that I have further to go next time. I like to fight my own weakness and emerge victorious. I like to arrive at a point, where all the bad stuff I had my head full of at the start of the trail, has completely evaporated.

I like to put my head under water fountains in the mountains. I like to run through rocky passages. I like to look back at the road I just came by. I like to be prepared for whatever conditions are out there, so that I can just go out and don't have to worry about anything. It's me who's going to set the limits to my trip, not the weather or trail difficulty.

I like to eat with other runners after the race, at the huge banks under the tent. I like to carry some magnesium on me, in case I bump into a fellow runner suffering from cramps. I like that huge breakfast I can have in the morning of a race day. I like to stop by and exchange a few words with the voluntaries. I like the 5 mins before the depart at the start line. I like the last 300 metres to the finish line.

Even though I like to have the company of a friend next to me for a while on the trail, to be true to myself, I do like to run alone. To feel the absolute freedom and independence. The detachment, the lack of responsibilities.

As I don't have to tell anyone, it all weights up, the good and the bad. Period-wise, you may seem to be stuck, but what I find also helps getting over it, is looking back on the progress you've made over the last months or years. You will see yourself starting slow and shyly approaching 30K mountain runs, which by now you're having as your minor weekend workouts. Or whatever distances you're into. The pictures I take on trails do bring back some of the magic feeling and are a great help in motivating myself to go on. Then, the need to run itself is something that tells me what I've become, and what I have to face to go on.

This is how it feels to trail run for me. How about you?