Truly, Madly, Deeply

I am utterly smitten.  Unable to concentrate, I want to drown myself in this new love. Since meeting, I can think of nothing else. I envision decades of bliss after only two hours together.

Trail running, where have you been all my life?

I've been complaining for some time that running has lost its glimmer for me. While my last marathon resulted in a PR, I felt confused for most of the race. Seriously...as the crowd of runners crossed the starting line, I looked around and thought, "What the hell am I doing here?" I cried on and off for four-plus hours (for several long-winded reasons). And when I finished, I was just as befuddled as when I began. And I have hardly run since -- three, maybe four eight-milers, and short jogs here and there to make sure my legs still work.

Granted, training season for the last race coincided with a dissolving relationship and a stressful internship. And since the new year, I've spent most of my allotted fitness minutes at a fantastic cross training facility. But running kept calling to me. It was a key piece to my recovery from divorce, and a significant player in the most important romance of my life. I couldn't just let it slip away, could I?

After repeated recruiting attempts, an ultrarunner friend coerced me to give running another try, but from a new angle.  I've argued against hitting the trails because I would have to drive so I could run (then drive back home, of course). The gas guzzling minivan is a thing of the past and I'm now a hybrid owner, so I'm far better able to justify the fuel expense now (and I adore driving the new wheels). This morning I found my way to our meeting point along with four more of her trail minions and we headed out for my inaugural rocky run.

And just like that, she drew me into her seedy underworld. It was absolutely magical. Stones and sticks and dirt and trees and hills and obstacles were there for the tripping and falling (an important milestone, I was told. Check.). The time and the miles flew by despite the necessity of a slower pace. Zigzagging my way through nature, I never found myself winded, nor did I consider turning toward home prematurely (like I so often do on the streets). Since the minute I stopped running, I've obsessed about when I will find my way out there again, speculating how far my legs will take me next time.

It seems like it's been ages since I've locked into a new fitness obsession...like, maybe since January when I got hooked on EnduraCamps (hmmmm, perhaps I fall more easily than I realized). But this time it feels different. I think I could build something worthwhile, something that has meaning, something to latch onto for a good long while.

This could well be the perfect partnership for me right now. The trails will give me fresh air and a fresh perspective on life, love, and the great outdoors. And I will offer my sweat and an occasional chunk of flesh in return. I'm happy to take scrapes and bruises over chocolates and roses. Talk about falling head over heels...