Running In Snow

     In Virginia it is a rare opportunity to go running in the snow.  In Roanoke we typically only get a few inches of frozen precipitation annually, and if it comes up on a work day, you miss the chance to go running in it. This year, I have been fortunate thus far.

     We have had two frozen weather events.  And I have been able to enjoy the event by running along my favorite trails.  They are not far from the house, but seem so far away from the daily rat race that I relish the chance to get out there and run the paths through the woods.

     I have run these trails for the solitude, and when the snow has covered the ground it seems all the more peaceful.  The sounds are muffled.  Everything has a fresh coat of whitewash across it.  The path, which I have traveled so many times before, seems new and more exciting than before. I get a kick out of the fact that somehow, I am more excited by the snow on the trails.  It is, after all, the same path as before.  So often life can be like that.

     The daily patterns of life can become worn, and familiar to me.  And while this familiarity brings comfort, boredom creeps in and the very thing that sustains you, the daily grind, becomes, well, unsatisfying.  But, when you add something new, like a coating of snow, it brings a refreshing to the mundane.

     Is it possible that trail running could ever be called mundane?!  No matter, the snow adds to the effort in a more fulfilling, exciting way.  And this reminds me to add something new to my every day life to keep it new and interesting and, not boring.

     I crave the opportunity to get out there on days like today.  I have taken to the trails alone because I am pretty sure that very few people understand this craving and can enjoy it as I do.  I know that folks are out there that "get it" but they are far and few between.

     Today I ran upon a trail that had no other footprints on it.  It brought a smile to my face to be the first out on this trail.  I imagined myself the trailblazing adventurer seeing these woods for the first time.  Larger than life imaginings of this sort often happen with me.  Humbly, I realize that this is foolishness, with me being a grand woodsman, and then heading back to the warm hearth of home an hour later.  But for the time I am on the trail, that is how I see my efforts.

     And to my credit, there is a grain of truth to this delusion.  I am the first to see the woods on this day, covered in snow.  And I get to see things that others who follow behind me will miss.  For instance, as I run along the trail, I see the tracks of a fox.  And for a moment the fox and I have gotten to share this experience of being out on this ground.  I am briefly as wild as he and traveling along the same course.  Now, the person that follows may never see those tracks, as I have clumsily stepped through his prints along the path.

     As I ran along, ascending a mountain side methodically moving forward, and upward, I reached the ridge line.  There, in the snow before me were the tracks of another sojourner in the snow.  Just as the thought of being the first across a section of wood, this too has brought joy to my heart.  The tracks are confirmation to my heart that there is a shared value in this endeavor.  I am not alone in my rapt adventure.  There is someone else out there that finds this a worthy endeavor.

     It is ironic to me that my efforts in solitude would include the joy of finding the tracks of another.  No matter how much I enjoy running alone, I seek validation and comfort in the tracks found of another.  We, in our human condition, seek one another out.  While we enjoy our own solitary company, it is a better thing when shared with another.

     As my efforts converged upon these tracks along the ridge line, I wondered about the person I was following.  Who were they?  Were they a fast runner? Had our paths crossed before?  And as I continued my running efforts and looked upon these tracks a neat thing happened.  I was able to answer these very ponderings.

     With no distractions, I remained focused on these tracks.  They marked a stride out that was slightly longer than my own.  I surmised that that the person I was following was either taller than me, or had a stronger, longer gait. or both.  Also, I considered where the tracks had merged along this trail from.  They came from a little used trail that only a few used.  Also, the tracks were definitely those of a running shoe.  Now, I know more about running shoes than is normal.  And this particular sole pattern was that of a Saucony trail shoe.  I have owned a pair of these in years past and recognized their unique grid pattern.  As I slowly pieced together each of these snippets of information, I discovered that I have run with someone recently that had these shoes.  He was taller than me, and regretfully, faster than me.  We had run on this trail system just weeks ago, before the snow.

     And, just as before, I imagined that I was a renowned detective who was able to take all of my clues and figure out exactly who had run before me.  Mystery solved!  

     Still further I ran.  And the effort of running through the snow was starting to wear on me.  Each step in snow is slippery and not as productive as when the ground is clear.  My heart rate is tapping out a desperate morse code of effort.  And yet I continue on with the effort, because it is in this harried state that I feel very much alive.  My arms and legs are working to maintain the forward motion in spite of the wintry conditions.  My heart and lungs are trying to keep the arms and legs fueled for the effort.  And my mind is at peace, being a witness and transcriber of all of it.  It is taking in the sights of splendor, maintaining the thoughts that are flashing through the effort at hand.  And in it's activity is peace.  In the bodies activity, there is a primal kind of peace as well.  This is what the body was meant for. 

     And now, I conger myself up as the ancient hunter running down game for which to feed on.  I look upon the tracks of a white tail deer and wonder if I should follow it and attack!  But, alas, I have no spear, or arrow to take down this meal.  I guess I shall continue along my way then.

     People often ask if running is boring.  They wonder what it is that you think about while plodding along.  I guess, for me, and my vivid imagination, this is better than watching TV.  I feel most alive on these runs.  And the snow, while cold and more difficult to trod across, just adds to the entertainment.