Need, Not Want
I began this season of trail running on May 23rd, doing a half marathon on the trails of McCoy Flats near Vernal, Utah. A necessary test for the upcoming 30K race in June on the Flying Dog trail in Park City.
I ended the season doing fifteen miles, and it happened to be on the same trail from that beginning-of-the-season 30K race.
In between the season opener at McCoy Flats and the season closer on Flying Dog, I ran a 30K and a 50K, hiked 90 miles of Newfoundland’s East Coast Trail, backpacked 30 miles of the Tetons, mountain biked all around Park City, and did all the training in between.
I used that last long run to revisit some of the memorable moments of the season: the first sip of lukewarm water from the bottle in my car after a running out of water twice on 4+ hour long runs. Wishing well to the shoes that took me through two summers of training and races as I put them in the recycle bin. Lying in bed and dreading the hours of effort needed for the last few weeks of pre-race training. Showing up to the Coyote trails in Heber City for heat training and having clouds come over every time, easing the whole effort by a fraction. Feeling that moment of LFG energy and suspension between when I hit the “start” button on my watch and when my feet began moving.
The last long run wasn’t perfect. I lagged at the two-thirds mark which is my typical mental low point. On that loop, it coincides with a bit of uphill after quite a bit of down, which takes a shift in muscle memory and mental energy.
But as always, the trail gave me what I needed - not what I wanted. A hill when I wanted it to be over, but that hill made me slow down on a rocky section (good for safety). The stacked loops of mountain bike-friendly grades sneak in about 4-5 steps of downhill after the sharp-and-up corners, allowing for just enough rest to convince you not to stop.
The trail gave me a flat section with view when my eyes were crossing from rock avoidance and shoulders hurting from the don’t-fall-don’t-fall concentration. That sudden expansiveness felt so good after existing in the myopic focus singletrack.
The trail gave me my favorite surface – crunchy, medium, dry gravel – as an accompaniment to my footsteps and we made simple music together. On this last run, there was a wrinkle of leaves pressing down underfoot. Yes, they hid rocks and roots and other tripping hazards but they also softened each step by micrometers.
The last long run mirrored the arc of the training season. A third was hard, a third was neutral, and third felt strong. I suppose that means it perfectly balanced challenge and capability – and that could be the biggest victory of the whole summer. Allowing space for the good to be what it was and not just a signal of “not going hard enough.”
It’s now time for more layers. More cups of tea, more seeing my breath rather than just feeling it. A gear shift, but not down – more like an across. To something snowier, with more equipment, and a little bit more survival at stake. There will be difficulty, there will be strength, there will be frozen fingers and runny noses.
But the winter trails await and I know they will also give me what I need, if not always what I want too.
