Trail Runners vs Road Runners

Trail runners versus road runners.  Not which is better, but that they are not the same. The road runners I know are a different breed – their heads are full of mindbending calculations, microseconds, aerodynamics, and such. There are no calculations in trail running.   There are no microseconds on trail runs and there are no certainties. You can’t look at your watch and calculate your next mile because you can’t see around the trees. You don’t know which way the branches have fallen or if a trail was mowed. You don’t know how deep the mud puddles are or if that ice will give out. There is no knowing what’s under those leaves or if you can trust the rotting bridge again this time. How high is the creek? You can’t see who is in front of you or who is behind you. You don’t know what that noise was deep in the trees or why the birds got so quiet.  You can only put one foot in front of the other, charge up that hill, breath in damp earthiness, smile, and be one with your run.

Running Out of Control

“Suppose you are drinking a cup of tea. When you hold your cup, you may like to breathe in, to bring your mind back to your body, and you become fully present. And when you are truly there, something else is also there—life, represented by the cup of tea. In that moment you are real, and the cup of tea is real. You are not lost in the past, in the future, in your projects, in your worries. You are free from all of these afflictions. And in that state of being free, you enjoy your tea. That is the moment of happiness, and of peace.” - Thich Nhat Hanh

This recent post from Art and Tea hit home the other day.  I remember when my morning cup of coffee was this moment of freedom.  Lately it has become a must-do-to prevent-migraine part of my routine that I combine with other tasks such as checking emails, balancing accounts, and making to-do lists.  I have been cheating myself out of my morning time of “being” and wasn’t even aware of it.

As I reread the passage my mind transported me to the fifth mile of a seven-mile river run in summer.  I read the passage a third time, replacing “drinking” with “running” and “your cup of tea” with “your run” and the passage hit home even harder. There’s something about being out there, miles from home, where everything except my breath is out of my grasp. For that hour I  cannot control anything and that feels extremely satisfying.