"Sure! That'll be fun!"

The miracle isn't that I finished. The miracle is that I had the courage to start.

― John Bingham in No Need for Speed: A Beginner's Guide to the Joy of Running

I got to try out my new REI shoes yesterday.  In the morning, Kevin suggested we go out for a “little trail run” in Soaring Eagle Regional Park near where he lives in Sammamish, Washington. Just for a bit of background, Kevin does Xterra triathlons.   Xterra is a series of off-road events: open water swimming, trail running, and mountain biking.  On the Xterra website, they describe trail running as “Hop across rocks, soar across streams, zig-zag your way along a mountain trail. Be a kid again and rediscover your super-charged sense of adventure and wonder.”  How could that be bad, right?  Back at home, Jobie and I frequently go for beach runs at Pismo Beach, and I hop and jump along in the sand sometimes.  Running on a trail sounded like it would be kind of a fun change. 

Oh, I forgot to mention, Kevin previously competed in the semi-professional level at Xterra races.

I asked him how far he planned to run for, and his response was, “About an hour.”  Ok, that told me how long we were going to go for.  I’ve run for an hour at the gym on a treadmill multiple times, so it didn’t sound that intimidating.  I re-worded my question to him:  “So how far do you typically run in an hour?” 

“I don’t know. It’s hard to tell when you are on the trails.  Maybe 7 or 8 miles?” was his response.

I quickly did the calculation in my head—somewhere between

That looks easy to follow...

7 ½ and 8 ½ minute miles.  Ok, so that’s at the faster end of my capabilities according to the little digital read out on the treadmills.  It shouldn’t be –that- different on a trail, though.  Sure, I was up for it. 

We grabbed water bottles and went out to his car.  We dropped his wife, Joy, off at the gym and headed out to the park.  After a short ten-minute drive, we arrived at a nearly empty parking lot.  Kevin swung his electric-powered Nissan Leaf into a spot and we hopped out.  There was only one other car there with two men standing behind it.  They were putting mountain bikes that were caked in mud onto racks on the back of their red SUV. 

“Looks like its pretty wet out there today!” Kevin shouted to them, grinning.

“What makes you say that?” replied one of the men, whose legs were splattered past his knees with drying mud.

We walked over to the edge of the trail where there was a large sign with a detailed map on it.  It showed a crisscrossing network of trails with little numbers at each intersection and distances along each segment.   “There are signs like this at each intersection.  You can use them along the way to tell where you are at, so you won’t get lost,” Kevin told me.  “There is one main gravel trail that goes through the middle of the park, so you can always follow that back if you need.  We can just plan to meet back here in about an hour,” he told me.  I asked him which route he usually goes, and he replied that he was just going to run around the outside loop a couple of times and then come back through the middle.

“I’ll just follow you then,” I told him, as it didn’t look like that long of a run.

We started off down a trail that was maybe a foot or two wide.  It was slick with mud from all the rain that had been falling the past few days.  I was glad that I had my new waterproof shoes from REI (If you’re reading this, Kassie, thanks for the recommendation!).  Trees, ferns, and lots of green plants lined

This was the closest I could get to him

each side of the dark, wet trail.  As we ran, I cautiously kept my eyes on the path, which was riddled with tree roots, puddles, holes, rocks, and branches.  Up ahead of me, Kevin practically danced down the trail, skipping over obstacles and hopping from side to side as if he were full of helium and had springs on his feet.  I plodded through, trying to plan each step carefully, yet moving quick enough so I didn’t fall behind.  He was going at a lot faster pace than I expected.   As we were running, he kept shouting back conversation over his shoulder at me.  His words came easily and excitedly as he bounded ahead.  I was panting.  I could only respond with grunts or feeble noises as I was trying to keep air going into my lungs rather than being spent on extraneous talking.  This was not at all like the treadmill at the gym.  Just as I was thinking that, Kevin shouted back, “Isn’t this better than being inside on a treadmill?” I could hear the glee in his voice.

“(a few small gasping noises)...Ung-hungh…,” I finally managed to get out.

We came to an intersection with another narrow trail. As Kevin had indicated before we started, it had a sign with a number on it.  He was standing next to it, and I was glad for the pause.  I looked at the distance on the map.  We had gone exactly 0.3 miles.  “Ok, now let’s go this way!” he exclaimed as he darted off down the narrow muddy path. This was a shorter pause than I thought it was going to be.

I started off about ten steps behind him.  Soon it was twenty.  And then thirty. And then more.  I could see his red baseball cap bouncing ahead and twist around occasionally as he kept glancing back over his shoulder.  My pulse was pounding in my ears and my breath was echoing in my head, so I couldn’t tell if he was talking to me or not.  I managed to keep up with him for 18 minutes.

“You keep going!” I shouted to him.  “I need to…ummm…need to respond to a text, or take a picture, or something.  I’ll see you at 10:15 at the end!”  I breathed in deeply

My new shoes kept my feet dry!

and exhaled. 

 After a brief rest, I continued down the trail at a bit slower pace.  I “stepped over rocks” and “carefully avoided streams” in my own version of Xterra trail running as I made my way through the park.  The maps indeed make it easy to find my way through the system of small trails.  At one signpost, I glanced at my watch and saw that it was about 10:05—only ten minutes until we agreed to meet back at the end.   The wider, main path was just ahead of me.  I decided I would follow that one back, rather than venture down any more of the windy, muddy trails that would take much longer.  I turned left onto the gravel and started the last half-mile back to the car at a comfortable jog.  After about fifteen seconds, though, I heard a quick patter of footsteps splashing down the little narrow trail I had just come from.  I turned around just in time to see Kevin’s bright red ball cap zing at a right-angle across the gravel.

“Hey, Buddy!” he shouted as he crossed over and darted down the little trail on the other side (the one I avoided thinking it would take too long to get back).   He looked like he was moving even faster than when we had started.

By the time I got to the end, I had gone maybe 5 miles.  I stood at the end of the path at the edge of the parking lot for a few minutes, and Kevin quickly came bounding down the gravel.  He wasn’t even breathing hard. 

“Wasn’t that great?!” he asked me.

“Yes, much better than the treadmill!” I replied. It actually was pretty fun, though, once I slowed down to a not-quite-Xterra speed.  It is much more adventuresome and exciting than simply running down the road or staring at a TV screen while jogging in place at the gym.  And it is something I wouldn’t have tried If Kevin had not suggested it.  Normally I would have said, “That looks pretty muddy—I think I’ll wait until the rain stops.”  I don’t know that I’ll be entering any races anytime soon, though.  I’ll leave that part of it up to Kevin.

Kevin's garage. He thinks he doesn't have enough bikes.