By nature, I am a creature of habit. Most other distance runners are too, I believe. It's something in our blood. With endless miles of dirt roads and trails within running-minutes from our house, I have to admit that I haven't explored much beyond my own backyard.
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| Littlest one takes a hiking break mid-run. |
Most of us are Type A, a bit neurotic, beastly when we miss a run. Angsty and spirited, we need to expel that extra energy, returning it back to the earth with each stride. We are also explorers, always on the lookout for that perfect trail, that majestic view, that endorphin high that greets us so extravagantly at the end.
By nature, I am also very much a loner. I love returning from a run without spotting a single sole. There is some magic in being out there alone, suffering and working while you know everyone else is resting in the comfort of their homes. As much as I seek solitude in life and in running,
sometimes, company is just what I need. On Saturday morning I ran with two trail running, ultra-marathon, young-child raising, amazing parents and people. These two introduced me to new trails and a whole new perspective. After traversing 9 miles of gorgeous single-tracks in the Las Virgenes mountains, I was left hungry. Hungry for more exploration, more shared miles with training partners and kindred spirits. Hungry for more stories and inspiration from these runners whom have covered many more miles than my legs or lungs have ever experienced. Hungry for knowledge of endurance. Really, my mind can't quite grasp how one can run 50 or 100 miles. Hungry for more trails. My body and brain used to be blessed with that endorphin high after only 30 minutes of running. Soon it grew to 60, then 90 then multiple hours. Now I find myself wanting more and more,
needing more and more. Two hours on the trails seem to defy the laws or relativity and I am not yet ready to be done. So it is with distance runners.
That is how the mountains pull you in, I find myself thinking.
Alas, I have three little ones that need me and there comes that point during each solo run (non-stroller run), that I know I must return back home. I am lucky to have them, though, as they bless me with balance. Without these kids I might very well go over the edge. It's funny to think that my kids set my curfew. Truth be told, they do set my running curfew. I can't run for hours and hours or do double days frequently, though they
do happen on especially stressful days when I simply need a second run with the kids to handle the demands of the kids.
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| "The Triple." Thank goodness my nearly-5-year-old still weighs a mere 31 lbs. |
When out running with the stroller, I know that 60 minutes is about their max. So most days we do 60. Much more than that and things can get ugly. Pushing 150+ lbs (uphill) with screaming children is not so pleasant. Many of you have experienced this and for those whom have never run with a yelling child, take my word, you are not missing out. One Saturday or Sunday each week I am usually able to negotiate some alone time to sneak out early morning for two hours. Any more than that and my partner feels neglected. We get so little family time or alone spousal time as it is with long work hours and early bedtimes, so two hours is sufficient and still retains the delicate balance.
But really this is the life, these days spent exploring mountainous trails and running wild, skipping and gliding over rocky technical trails and wild descents. Dirt sock lines and sticky sunscreen arms. Playing in nature's playground. Running and eating and playing and repeat. Both with the triple and alone, these are the days I love.
