AdventuresNW
At first glance, trail running and a deep appreciation for nature might not seem like an obvious combination. Trail running takes place outside, on trails, of course, but pushing oneself up hills and flying down descents, one’s breath so loud it’s audible to nearby hikers, might seem at odds with hearing the drum of a pileated woodpecker on a nearby snag or noticing the first yellow wood violet of spring.
On days when I want to feel the most alive, I run.
As a long-time trail runner, however, I can tell you that some of my most poignant memories in nature have come from times I’ve been running. In part, this is because of the pragmatic nature of running itself: when I run, I can travel further, and when I travel further, I sometimes see more. For example, one of the best moments of last summer only happened because I arrived at the Church Mountain trailhead just after dawn on a weekday, looking to fit in an out-and-back to the summit before work began for the day. Though the run up was strenuous, seeing the mountain without a trace of any other humans—though plenty of wildlife—was a magical experience.
Dew clung to the bear grass, and Townsend’s Solitaires warbled rich songs from the forest. Insects weren’t yet awake and buzzing, and the air was calm. I may have borne witness to this morning if I had camped overnight and awoken on the mountain, but running up the mountain and reaching the top before the rest of the world woke was the next best option.
On the way back down, I found myself alive with the thrill of feeling the world rush by, a feeling that’s different than hiking. On days when I want to feel the most alive, I run. I might miss something along the way, but chances are I’ll have more time to enjoy the summit, maybe even to myself.
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.
