-Zac Marion
As the early morning casts its shadow across the valley, my
mind is taken to years past when childhood imaginations ran wild with thoughts
and even occasional sightings of monsters and wild things lurking just beyond
the light. Time has faded away the fears of fangs, claws and fictional beasts,
replacing them with equally daunting grown up monsters.
Just this morning, while traveling to meet up with some
great friends for a run, I reflected on driving that same route in similar
conditions a year ago. The jagged ridges and peaks had cast equally terrifying shadows
as these mountain sized monsters lurked in the darkness of a pre-dawn glow.
Their intimidating switchbacks, never ending hills and rough terrain was a far
cry from the comfort of my road running. Trail running had become the creeping
monster literally hiding in the shadows.
Over the course of three years, I had worked myself from
extremely unhealthy to an extremely mediocre road runner. I enjoyed my mind
numbing rhythm. I enjoyed my attention to pace. I enjoyed the same routes with
houses and stop lights that never changed. I was comfortable in knowing what
was coming. Aside from the occasional side cramp, there were no surprises and
nothing to fear.
I had only really been on one trail, and just a handful of
times at that. It was a 9.89 mile out and back route with a grand total of 500ft
of elevation change. It was probably the hardest run I did through my training,
and the slowest. I never found a steady rhythm. That ridiculous climbing was
messing up my pace. All the twists and turns had me lost. And day to day, the
trail was constantly changing on me. I never knew what to expect or even knew
where I was most of the time.
I was afraid of what I couldn’t succeed at. I was afraid of
these seemingly insurmountable tasks. I tried to hide under the comfort of my
road running, but I knew they were still out there… haunting me.
But how do you conquer your fears? You face them. Head on.
You peel back the covers and peer into the dark corners and shadows. You accept
what is or is not there and you stand up to it. You struggle and fight until
the beast has succumbed.
It’s funny how personal reflection can be the night light
that exposes those fears for what they were. Fear is just your imagination and
personal intimidations getting the best of you. I look back on what I
originally feared in trail running and ironically they have now become my
favorite aspects of the sport.
It’s nice to get lost and forget about everything else,
excepting what the trail will bring you. All of the curves and dramatic elevation
changes are character that makes every trail experience unique. And it’s something
that ought to be enjoyed because whether it is mud, snow, erosion or fallen
trees, it will not be the same when you come back tomorrow. I have rarely
experienced a greater reward than getting to the top of a peak and peering down
3,000 ft below and looking at the miles of ups and downs that it took to get
there.
I look forward to today’s adventure as I get closer to those
dark shadows that draw me in. It’s a new day in a usual place. A place where I
can run and play where the wild things are.
3 comments:
That was really good to read. I fear the trails even still, and I've been out on them several times. I need more courage.
Great post Zach. I wish I had more mountains near by :(
Your article made me realize that fear was the only thing holding me back from beginning trail running sooner: fear of slow paces, fear of getting lost, fear of dashing my brains out on a rock, etc. Experience is teaching me that effort, not pace, is the better yardstick, and friends who patiently show the newbie the ropes and routes dispel the fear of getting lost. I'm still afraid of dashing my brains out on a rock, though. Very nice article, Zac!
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