I like my trail as a single-track, winding through low pine trees. At night, following the light of my headlamp, and those of the fellow runners. I like a mountain path disappearing in the mist.
I like to run a muddy road among autumn fields, to struggle with the forces pulling me back. I like a trail covered in 20 cm of fresh snow. I like to fight my way through it, to earn my permission to pass through. Running in pouring rain, or under heavy snow feels brings a reward. I go back home as a triumphant warrior.
The sheer intensity of the stimuli is what calls me back. Cold, heat, difficult terrain, limited visibility - the trail becomes... touchable. I am an animal running in the wild, exposed to the elements of nature, yet being one of them itself. This is what freedom feels like, the ultimate drug for a trail runner.
How can you tell you're addicted? It's when you go for a road run on a sunny day, swim a few lengths in the pool, take a refreshing bike ride. Right when you finish and look for that feeling... and it's not there.
Sometimes, that inner animal asks to be let off the leash. I rarely refuse it.
To all trail runners who have beasts of their own!
