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June 22, 2006
On Location in Grand Central Station
Lately, I've felt like I've been having a sort of extended out-of-body experience. As if I have been moving through life, watching myself do things, but not actively participating in them. Perhaps that isn't quite right. Maybe it's more like I'm still in my body, but I view the world and my day-to-day existence through a fuzz that masks all the details and fineries that make up life. I guess I don't really know how to describe it, but I do know that I've felt a little off-center. Before I let it get the best of me, I decided today was the day to do something about it.
*Warning: Do as I say, not as I did. In grizzly bear country, one should run in open areas where visibility is good. If running in enclosed areas with little visibility, one should run in groups of 2 or more, carry pepper spray intended for bears, and make noise. Probably the best thing to do is to not even run in areas with poor visibility as the majority of people who get attacked by grizzly bears are those who have surprised them suddenly.*
I went trail running this afternoon on a beautiful trail that wound among lodgepole pine trees, huge boulders that fell off the cliff above it, and freezing-cold creeks still full of snow-melt water. This infrequently used trail was a single-track mixture of grass, gravel, and downed pine needles. I started out from the trailhead, and immediately I felt tired. I hoped that I would shortly come around, and I did. As soon as I was away from the trailhead and the din of humanity, and instead surrounded by only natural noises, I felt energized. My stride grew longer and my footsteps lighter, and I felt great as I did it.
I played little games with myself as I ran. I tried to make as little noise as possible. The quietest trail substrate is grass. Lightfooted types can move almost silently over grass, with but the tiniest of rustles. Next is pine needles. They themselves don't make noise, rather they muffle the noise of your foot striking the ground. Each footfall is a barely audible "whump" and, with an effort, you can run so quietly on pine needles as well. The gravel is the loudest. Pounding one's foot against the ground illicits noise produced by the gravel pieces moving against each other. The noise is noticeable, kind of scratchy, and, if you concentrate hard enough, you can almost feel that scratchy feeling trace itself through your body.
I played a second game. I watched my shadow. In the later afternoon light, my shadow had grown narrow and tall. As I ran, I tested different movements of my arms and knees, and watched how my shadow reacted. My running economy, or lack thereof, was readily noticeable, as were options on how to run with greater efficiency.
Aside from monitoring myself, there was so much else out there to observe. Near the trailhead, near humanity, I listened to the persistent call of the magpie. They sit in trees around trailheads and picnic areas, awaiting human handouts or leftovers. Their attitudes exude a near-arrogance that I'd find a turn-off among our species. With them, it's comical. Further in, as I tried to run silently, I heard a woodpecker working somewhere up high in the lodgepoles. Down on the forest floor, the bird's noise arrived in a bold, repetitive echo. There was a herd of elk upon the green hillside to my left. Some people call this area The Nursery, and it's where many female elk go to calve. They have somehow convinced themselves that this place is safe from predators. I did not inform the elk of the 2 coyotes that crossed the trail in front of me a bit later. Coyotes here are different. I guess I expected them to be bigger with more fur up here in the mountains where food is plentiful and the air has a frequent chill. However, in comparison to Texas coyotes, they are rather small. These 2 coyotes were shy. They crossed only 30 or 40 yards in front of me, and when I arrived there, they were gone, completely gone. The last thing to note was the blooming clover trailside. Yesterday, as I drove through the park during work, I watched a grizzly roll in a field of clover, and I wondered why exactly clover felt so good. Today I thought that perhaps that grizzly loved the smell of clover, that's what drew me in today. The scent of blooming clover is heavenly, soft, peaceful, sweet.
Also, while I was out there today, I found peace. I arrived back at the trailhead after 8 miles feeling happy and comfortable, centered and focused, more like me. Thus, this evening I'm writing from on location, at my own grand central station.
EDIT: This just in. Pathetic, don't you think? Yes, I'm aware that I'm writing this from my laptop, from my living room, from inside my house. Wanna bet that I'm going to take my dog for a walk in my national park this evening while most of the rest of America watches prime time TV? Come on people, step away from the electronic gadgetry. You can do it.
Posted by Meghan at June 22, 2006 7:38 PM
Comments
this is a beautiful post, meghan. a wonderful experiment, wonderful workout, wonderful centering. you paint it so well, i don't know how anyone reading this would want to forsake nature for gadgets.
this is a great motivator for me. i just started getting my every other friday off again, and i had made a pledge to myself to get out into the wild on those long weekends. thanks for the push.
Posted by: jeff at June 22, 2006 9:07 PM
after this one, I feel like: "Ok family, let's hop on a flight to Yellowstone. There's some things we should all do, experiences not to be missed." At this rate, sooner or later don't be surprised if we show up :) In the meantime we will enjoy the Adamello Brenta national park this summer. Most enriching, on a smaller scale. Take care, Corrado
Posted by: corrado giambalvo at June 23, 2006 2:33 AM
After reading that article I couldn't help but think "oooh. fine with me. stay home! more park for me!"
Why do I have the impression that the parks are so crowded during the summer? Did they used to be worse?
It'll have been a year next weekend that we visited your neck of the woods. I have proposed to the friends we went with that we make a regular (biannual?) return, and they're supportive. We'll see what actually happens. Thinking about that week last year brings back such great memories. And I get to relive them every time I read your blog. Gracias!
ps. Wet pine needles are my absolute favorite running surface.
Posted by: Anonymous at June 24, 2006 6:38 AM