Trail Running: Just Do It!

Nike hit gold when they came up with their "Just Do It" slogan. It's hard to imagine a situation where the sage advice doesn't apply. Today, in particular, I was a poster child for the three word ditty.

When I left the house this morning, I packed my trail running shoes in the hopes that Barefoot Josh would want to meet me for a trail run in the afternoon. When I hadn't heard from him and it was raining out, I'd pretty much decided to bag the trail run. I offered rationalizations as I drove home. I'll just do a quick 5 miles at the house. I need to get on the bike, anyway. The trails will be slippery from the rain. Blah, blah, blah. 

Yet somehow, in the back of my mind, I kept hearing "Just do it." I wanted to do a trail run. I brought special shoes because I'd planned to do a trail run. Why was I now doing everything in my power to talk myself out of running a trail? 

Just do it. I turned onto Strawberry Road, switched out my shoes, and headed for Piedmont Trail. Loved every freaking minute of it. Fall colors, mud, roots, stumps, clumps of wet leaves, hills, bridges... glorious, including the two blisters I got because it's been months since I wore my trail running shoes. 

My plan was to spend the summer running trails. Didn't happen. I do best when I have a running partner, someone to hold me accountable for showing up and getting the run done. Not a lot of people I know either like to run trails or have the flexibility in their schedule to hit them when it's light outside (i.e., during "work" hours). But I enjoyed my solo run today. I'm aiming to get another one in later this week on a slightly longer trail. 

If anyone in the area is reading this and wants to run some trails, please e-mail me. 

Meanwhile, I'll be the solo loony runner out on the trails chanting, "Just do it!" as I hoof it up the hills. 

Cheers,

Dena

For All You Runners Out There...

My trainer sent this to me. Yes, it's a big commercial for Nike, but the words perfectly capture the runner's experience.

NIKE

You pretended the snooze button didn’t exist.  You dragged your butt out of bed while others slept, while others ate their pancakes.  You had a feast of protein, glucose and electrolytes.  You double knotted.  You left the front porch light on and locked the door behind you.  You ran.  5k’s, 10k’s, 26.2 miles.  Some days more, some days less.  You rewarded a long run with a short run and a short run with a long run.  Rain tried to slow you down.  Sun tried to microwave you.  Snow made you feel like a warrior.  You cramped.  You bonked.  You paid no mind to comfort.  On weekends, on holidays, you made excuses to keep going.  Questioning yourself.  Played mind games.  Put your heart before your knees.  Listened to your breathing.  Sweat sunscreen into your eyes.  Worked on your farmer’s tan.  You hit the wall.  You went through it.  You decided to be a man about it.  You decided to be a woman about it.  Finished what you started.  Proved what you were made of.  Just kept putting mile after mile on your internal odometer.  For 25 years you ran.  And we ran with you.  How much farther will we go? 

As far as you will.