The joy of trail running

By Ed Ohlweiler
Reader Contributor

One thing about living in North Idaho, we sure are blessed with a smorgasbord of outdoor activities. These days, I find myself returning to the one with the least amount of requisite gear: just grabbing running shoes and heading out the door. No checklist, no pack, no PFD.

Maybe all of the beauty trail running has brought into my life has something to do with it. I remember once locking eyes with a mink for several seconds before we both went on our merry ways. Another time, I flushed a family of grouse for what must have been their first-ever flight. The chicks were flapping like crazy but barely flying all around me. I felt like I was in a snow globe full of little puffballs and I had to dodge them all like Neo in The Matrix. 

In the desert, I saw a group of three desert bighorns — a rarity in itself — and watched the eldest show the youngest how to open up a cactus using only horns and one hoof. Once I witnessed a great horned owl attempt to fly off only to discover it was tethered to the tree by rabbit entrails. 

This spring seemed especially dazzling with wildflowers, but maybe that’s every spring. One particular trail was so decorated with alpine wildflowers on both sides of me that I felt like a bride in a wedding.

When I’m learning a new trail system, I often find myself lying in bed at night excitedly planning the next day’s run: “It has to be special and carry the distinct possibility of seeing something I’ve never seen before,” I find myself thinking, until I realize that’s every trail run.

I know trail running may seem overwhelming, so let’s dispel a few misconceptions right off the bat, because trail running should be a love affair; and, like all love affairs, it doesn’t have to end. You could grow old together. 

What follows is entirely based on personal observation and contains very little of what could be termed “science” or “research.”

Myth No. 1: Trail running is for elite athletes. In truth, trail running is for patient athletes and often favors older runners. I remember one year being inspired by two separate 67-year-olds. It still amazes me what the younger, more fit version of myself found daunting, but perhaps I was just unwilling to slow down my pace for the sake of unlimited fun and beauty, something I now find amusing.

Myth No. 2: Trail running does not include walking. All trail running includes walking at some point. In a perfect world, I would only walk for scenic beauty (a must), while eating (I am trying to be more mindful) or while navigating, and not because my heart and lungs tell me to. Will this ever happen? Most definitely not. Every run is a tapestry of both.

Myth No. 3: Trail running is bad for your body. Sometimes people express this sentiment to me and I can’t help thinking they are projecting their own road running injuries onto me or the sport. In truth, since I gave up the evil pavement 25 years ago, I’ve suffered very few overuse injuries, which I attribute to soft landings and development of more little “stabilizing” muscles required for ducking and dodging that may help reinforce joints and prevent injury. (Again, no science here, just personal observation.) Most of my injuries now are self-inflicted, like run-ins with cactus in the desert and with roots or rocks in North Idaho.

Myth No. 4: Hills and headwinds are bad. Hills are merely hills, and your ticket to unlimited beauty when you consider all of the scenic vistas that ridgetops offer: alpine wildflowers, picas and marmots, storm watching and more. Unlike cycling, a headwind is usually preferable in running because the difference in evaporative cooling more than offsets the wind resistance (except in extreme cases). The worst is a five-mile-per-hour tailwind when that is roughly your running speed. The same air stays with you offering little in the way of cooling; but, when you turn around, it becomes in effect a 10 mph wind, which is so much more refreshing.

OK, that’s what trail running is not — what is it, exactly? This is highly personal depending on each person’s individual journey. Even though there’s a Zen aspect to it, we as Westerners still arrive with our own goals. If you want to take it to the next level, there are a gazillion fact-based podcasts featuring coaches and athletes galore, technology, fancy watches and heart rate monitors to help you improve your distances and times. For the rest of us, there are other considerations. 

Since human beings will not persist very long in an endeavor they don’t enjoy, I’m choosing to focus on happiness as it applies to running. Or vice versa. Here are some ideas I have found helpful:

Make your goals enjoyment-based

I’m from the Marie Kondo school of trails — they have to spark joy. While many goals have jockeyed for third position over time, my top two have always been experiencing scenic beauty and encountering wildlife. With that in mind, I can stack the deck through my choice of locations. 

There is also exploring new country, discovering loops, practicing mindfulness or breathwork, and connecting with your inner child or friends. Many enjoyment-based goals, including feeling healthier and enjoying elevated mental states, are easily attainable. Bonus: Increased blood flow to the brain makes you smarter.

Know when to walk

Knowing when to walk can also make trail running more enjoyable. I prefer the freedom of running to lumbering with a pack on my back (or else I’d be hiking), but I still allow myself ample “goof-off time” (usually about 10% of a long run) and I try to spend it wisely. That doesn’t even include trail terrain that is simply “un-runnable.” Usually this is based on steepness (uphills where your running pace equals your walking pace and uses twice the energy), but obstacles like talus also contribute. 

If you’re hoping to encounter wildlife, walking just before the crest of a ridge or water source will increase your chances. There’s something to be said for walking in the shade on a sunny day or in the sun on a cold day. I’ve found that how often I walk is not as important as how soon I return to running. But I also try not to be too hard on myself — this is my sacred time in the woods, a luxury to be treasured.

Go with friends

After years of solo running, I’ve finally found a tribe with which to share these amazing experiences. I worried that the ensuing chattiness might cut down on the wildlife sightings, but it didn’t stop a group of us from seeing a snowy owl glide across the meadow at Pine Street Woods.

Make performance-based goals a game

Since witnessing improvement in your level of fitness can also spark joy, I try to have fun with this. Can you run up and down 1,000 vertical feet in an hour? What gradient do you prefer going up? What gradient do you prefer going down? What feels better the next day? Once the answer to the first question is “yes,” what is the maximum number of vertical feet you can go up and down in an hour? 

I get a little obsessed with “vert” only because of the magnetic allure of ridgetops, but if that’s not your thing, there are so many beautiful trails around lakes and rivers, as well. Have fun with it.

Stacking challenges

I have no idea why larger hills intimidated me when I was younger and more fit. Specifically, our own “Sherwood Forest,” from the ancient blue midden to the clanking of Greta’s Bell. It took me quite a while to embrace the thought of running it nonstop. Fast-forward several years to where it’s now one of my favorite trails, and a top reason for frequenting the Syringa/Pine Street Woods/VTT trails. What’s more, it once occurred to me that there isn’t a mountain that couldn’t be broken down into several “Sherwood Forests” — an epiphany that has opened many doors.

The 60/90 portal

This is something I’ve observed and I’m pretty sure I’m not alone. At some point, after you’ve spent a lot of time chasing coyotes, whitetail deer, glacier lilies or general well-being, you will notice a change. You will transcend from 60 minutes of running being relatively hard to 90 minutes of running being relatively easy. Things will really open up from there. 

I don’t know why this is, except for once I heard a podcast featuring a wellness guru who, unlike me, has done extensive research — specifically about the wonders of mitochondria. Not to get too technical, but these are the teensy-tiny Oompa-Loompas of the body’s cells that do all the heavy lifting, vacuuming and taking out the garbage. Apparently, you can only increase your mitochondria count through exercise (no one gets to duck under the velvet rope) and that amount of exercise was described as, “at least 60 minutes, but preferably 90 minutes.”

Circling back to joy, I don’t think I could sum it up any better than the ultrarunner “Barefoot Ted”: “I am not interested in the limits of pain, I’m interested in the limits of pleasure.” 

May we all find the many joys that trails provide on our ways to becoming amazingly fertile little mitochondria farms.

Ed is a misguided not-quite-youth and a lover of mountains who collects ticks like more accomplished runners collect medals. Don’t let him pet your dog.