AdventuresNW
Everyone remembers their first trail run. For me, the memory is steeped in the crisp air of a fall evening in Bellingham. I can smell the brine of the Salish Sea as I follow a group of runners from the smooth sidewalks of Fairhaven to the gravel of the Interurban Trail and finally, beyond, to the Chuckanuts. My steps feel cautious, almost awkward, as I navigate exposed roots. My legs feel slow and unresponsive as the grade steepens and I begin to ascend the hill. I feel my muscles contract and my heart rate quicken. My arms pump sharply to assist in the climb. I’m working hard, but my step is buoyant because of the soft ground underfoot.
The forest is quiet, even with the chatter of the other runners ahead. My eyes adjust to the light so that I’m narrowing in on the life around me in a way I haven’t before: the sword fern with its large blades; the punchy call of a small Pacific Wren darting out from under a log; a Douglas Fir so thick in circumference I’m reminded of my own young age.
I’ll spend the next decade coming back to these same trails, at different speeds and with varying attention to the natural world. Each day I run, I try to recapture a small part of that first trail run. It doesn’t always work—some days I feel bogged down in a way that not even the thrill of summitting a tough climb can outrun. But on the days I feel connected to that first trail run, with my eyes new to the world, it’s magic.
Jade Belzberg is a professional trail runner living on the Canadian side of the beautiful Pacific Northwest. She writes about her races, adventures, and life with twenty rescue animals on her Substack, The Thread.
