I like trail running, especially on rugged mountain trails. There is something about the dirt and rock, the potential of wildlife, perhaps easygoing or exerting yourself for several hours, while being out in all kinds of weather.
The more time you spend on an activity, the more opportunity you get for things to happen. Sometimes things go wrong and you experience some pain. That is unsurprising.
Imagine a beautiful, sunny day. You’re out on the trails, at an easy, seemingly effortless jog. The terrain is not tricky, the trail pretty even, perhaps slightly downhill. You are happy, genuinely just enjoying being out. Suddenly you trip and fall, just barely avoiding landing flat on your face.
For a few seconds, you are down on the ground, wondering what just happened, surprised, perhaps a little embarrassed. You check yourself quickly. Maybe you notice a few scratches or something that you’re guessing might bruise later. Physically, it is nothing, really. You get up and continue your run.
Or picture this. You are out running with a friend, in easy conversation. You are on a bit of a schedule, but also, you are feeling strong. The way up went really well, easier and quicker than you had expected and you made good time. The way back is basically all downhill, you know the trails well and are genuinely enjoying just relaxing into it and going easy and fast.
You’re just over four miles into this, the last mile or so having been quick and descending. Suddenly, you misstep, hear and feel a pop, then an intense pain in your ankle. There is nothing visible, but it clearly feels damaged. You stop, of course, then after a minute or so try placing weight, then begin tentatively limping and within minutes begin jogging and then running to make your way back to the car.
I have some experience with variations of both scenarios. The trips, falls, strains (and rarely, sprains) are a side effect of the activity, eventually. It is not surprising that it happens, it is surprising, when it happens. In fact, the sensation of surprise usually outweighs any actual physical pain suffered.
The terrain is usually not the problem. Given narrow, steep, perhaps highly technical or rutted out trails, progress may be difficult, but it is not the terrain, where I am likely to to experience injury. The terrain’s difficulty is precisely what has me paying attention.
I have experienced my most jarring incidents on the trail, when things appeared effortlessly easy, when intuitively there did not seem to be a need to be cautious at all. The most important risks can be those that you do not see at all.
I have come to refer to those experiences as blunt wake-ups, in this case lessons imparted by the trail. Learning gradually, I sometimes catch myself, when the flow of a trail run feels too confidently easygoing. It may be exactly the time to pay closer attention.