Running Trails In Gatineau

Olaf, Augusto, Eric and Flint tackled some pretty slippery, damp and awesome single track last weekend. Foul language ensued.

Montreal Color Run 2012

This is how my Belle and I spent last Sunday morning :)

 Join the fun of The Color Run!

Sonja's Run

The car ride to the mountain was just talk and laughs, between TMI stories and coffee-induced jitters.

It was Sonja’s first trail run this fall, and we were both very happy to hit the forest together for some fresh air, good times and beautiful colors.

We parked the car and walked slowly to the trail head. We chose to run the trail counter-traffic, so we would not startle the many walkers and hikers who came to the park, often with their little kids.

We started slowly, because I can’t run fast right away. That’s just how it is, and I’ve learned that the more I listen to my body, the more it gives back.

Sonja trots along, teasing me that she didn’t come here to be passed by strolling grandmas…

The air is fresh, but not cold. Under the vast patches of shade, scents of fallen leaves and soft moss fill the air. When the forest clears, some glorious sun rays shine through from the blue skies, lighting the trees on fire with colors of yellow and red. Little busy squirrels rush about, their cheeks full with pine nuts and other goodies to hide away for the cold months to come.

The first hills, soon enough, get us both warmed up, and the crispy sounds of our feet on the trail start to pick up the rhythm. We’ve got plenty of food and drink, so we can go at it to our hearts’ content. At the first fork, I turn right for the rolling hills leading up to the mountain bike tracks. The trail alternates from a leaf-covered mud path to some pretty coarse riverbed rocks, making both runners dance and dodge as they weave around smiling walkers, panting dogs and excited little kids, who cheer them along. “Look, mama! These ones run!”

Past the wooden bridges over the creek, the trail splits. Right into the woods, left straight up in a brutal ascent to the first summit. Sonja, not skipping a beat, veers left and looks at me over her shoulder, smiling. “Slow down, girl, I can’t keep up!”. As she hopped up the hill like a mountain goat, all I heard back was “catch me on the downhill!”.

I slow down to a grind, trying my best not to break into a walk. I’ve been practicing the “grannygear” method Scott Jurek explains in his book, slowing my cadence to almost a standstill stomp, but still swinging my arms forward like when running. It feels awkward at first, but I found it works pretty well. I’m not sure if it actually makes me any faster than walking, but it doesn’t break my rhythm and helps recuperate from the climb way faster.

At the top, I can’t even see Sonja anymore. I hear a couple crunches from the sound of her feet on the rocky path, so I know she’s not too far ahead. I also know that “my section” is coming… It’s subtle at first, but the other side of the first summit is a downward slope that rolls to the bottom of a high valley before the climb to the second summit starts. From this point, I have a good 2.5, maybe 3K of progressive downhill running, which means I’ll come down flying. I’m all warmed up now, and I can almost hear the muffled giggle of Sonja pressing on, putting as much distance as she can before the hill gets serious.

I catch my breath from the climb rapidly, then simply let my legs follow the inclination of the path. Dodging sharp rocks and roots, I fall into a nice, rapid pace that gets my adrenaline going. The air is still crisp and makes my eyes teary, so I wipe them frantically, trying to get as clear a vision as possible.

After a couple turns, I see her in the distance. She’s running hard, dancing around mud patches and other hazards, her elbows widespread to maximize balance. I smirk, thinking how we must look like crazy chickens being chased by some invisible predator.

Now that she’s in my sights, I close in gradually, making sure not to freak out the Sunday morning strollers. Some smile, others offer some encouraging words. “Wow! Go, runners!”.

Getting ever closer, I start to hear her breath, heavier with effort and the thrill of fast running. She knows I’m right behind and she’s giving all she’s got to not make it easy for me to pass her. At this point, we’re storming past the walkers, breathing hard and smiling wide, kicking dust and leaving rolling rocks in our wake.

“Meep, meep!”

I jump to her left, then right in front of her, nearly out of control, making the last part of the way down closer to a frantic tumble than a controlled descent. “Damn you! Wait for me at the bottom!”

It takes only a couple more minutes before the rampage is over, and Sonja comes in about 30 seconds later, panting, laughing and half-dizzy, still in disbelief that we both survived unscathed. “Want to do the second summit? We could grab something to eat there, then run down the other side.”

We take a right turn in the high valley and start the second climb, the one called The Calvary. It was created by monks a long time ago, who built miniature chapels along the wooded path with frescoes of the crucifixion and religious sculptures. They make a strange sight, these little white houses surrounded by the dense forest, but we don’t mind them. They’re just part of the landscape.

The second climb is more forgiving than the first, so we stay together, running stride-for-stride, struggling against the little rolling rocks and catching our breath on the plateaus. That section is filled with large cedar trees with wild mushrooms at their feet, changing the ambient red and yellow foliage to a deep summer green and rich earthy browns on the forest floor. The air is dryer, and the proximity of the open summit is palpable with a cool wind rising.

Sonja, who took her hat off, is all smiles. “Wind in your hair?” She only nods, her expression making a much better explanation than any word she could say at that point. It makes me happy to see her like that.

The naked rocks atop the Calvary offer an ideal, sun-baked spot for a gel and a couple sips of lime-flavored water before the easy home stretch, a forgiving, gentle slope that switchbacks down to the parking lot, passing through an old maple sugar shack converted into an interpretation center.

As we jog down the last kilometer or so, I turn to my friend. “So, how was it?”. “Let’s do this again, sometime”, she just answered, winking. It had been a fantastic run, one of the best this year, and they both knew it.

A run that would be easy to remember, for a long time, with a simple closing of the eyes, a deep breath, and a smile.

Transcendence

Among a sea of people, she stood, shivering in the early morning dampness. Runners. As far as the eye could see, all lined up, eager, itching. The large mass of people offered a comfortable anonymity, but there was no fooling her; here she was, by herself, about to embark on an adventure of endurance, determination and difficulty, the scale of which she had never faced.

The crowd surrounding her offered some familiar faces. Friendly smiles and gestures of support, cheers. The music pumping in the loud speakers didn’t offer much of an encouragement, and she found herself doubting her capabilities, concerned that she could have done more, be better prepared. But there was no backing out now, the only way was forward. She took a couple steps and closed in on the starting line.

Before the gun went off, she had thoughts for her friends somewhere among the crowd. Less experienced ones, as nervous and jittery as her, maybe even more. Seasoned runners, too. What did they think? Did they, too, feel like she did? Before she took her first step across the line, her last thought went to a friend who’d bailed out. They had planned to run together, at least for a bit. In that moment, she wished he was there, joking around, trying to make her laugh.

Then every single thought she had vanished in the cold morning. As she crossed the line, she emerged from her musings and stepped right into reality. It wasn’t time to dream about running a long distance, it was time to do it. As she took the first deep breath of her journey, the colors became sharper and the sounds, crisper.

Determined to follow her own plan and to refrain from getting carried away by the flow of runners blowing full speed ahead, she put on her headphones and sunk into her music. The morning light was warming the day, and she welcomed the heat on her skin with a smile.

It was going well; her legs were fresh, she was relaxed and she was breathing calmly. She took some moments to look around and appreciate the environment, appreciate that she was out here, doing something amazing and succeeding.

Tap.

She turned her head. A goofy, grinning runner right behind her had just touched her shoulder. She smiled; she actually had expected this to happen sooner. It was her man, running happy like a kid, without a care in the world. She held out her hand and grabbed his for a minute, deliberately not coming out of her concentration. Step for step, they ran together for a little minute, then he kept going, turning around to make sure she was all right. She gestured for him to shoo away, not to worry.

As the long strip of asphalt was winding underneath her feet, she let herself be carried away by the music, keeping bits of attention to her running and to making sure she drank and ate when needed.

But doubt was never far behind. Slowly at first, but soon unmistakably, some well-known pains started poking her knees. It was going so well! And it’s still early in the race! What if that prevents me from finishing? What if I get hurt? What if…

Wait.

She took a long breath. Deeper inside of herself, she found no shortage of determination and will. Pushing aside her worries, she decided to focus on that determination and get back on track, she decided to own her body and to press on. She wasn’t about to let go of her goal. She varied her stride, applied all the little tricks she knew. And she kept going.

Around her, the crowd had thinned out and left plenty of space for her to glance around at other runners. What were they thinking? Was it going well for them? Were they struggling? Past them, she noticed the crowd of onlookers for the first time. Passers-by, smiling people with little puffy babies in strollers, impressed tourists cheering her on.

A wave of energy traversed her body as she realized she wasn’t in that crowd. She was down in the street, tackling a physical feat that impressed the Sunday morning masses gathered around the course. An inexplicable feeling of achievement and satisfaction filled her entirely, bringing her to the brink of tears. She was doing this.

The streets rolled under her feet, alternating between smaller and longer steps, applying the best technique they acquired during countless previous outings. She was light, floating and flowing like water. She was running free.

As the increasing roar of the finish line crowd got to her, a struggle between her fatigued body and her determination occurred. As much as she wanted to see that finish line, she felt her muscles beginning to fail her with every step. It felt as if that line kept getting further away, like it was slowly escaping her reach. Her will hadn’t faltered, but she was treading in uncharted territory, far beyond any distance she’d ran before. A deep-rooted fear was slowly gripping her stomach. Her breathing stopped for a moment.

No.

She shook it off. She reached deeper inside and held onto her memories of previous achievements, on her certitudes that, right in this moment, nothing was going to stand between her and that line. From her foundation, she inhaled. The air of that single breath gushed inside like a torrent, washing away the fear, powering over the wave of doubt, igniting a flow of energy yet undiscovered.

Like a wildfire, every fiber of her body lit up. As the last remnants of doubt and apprehension were being consumed forever, she lifted her head and let her eyes follow the row of metal barriers that narrowed the street down to the last passage.

There, it stood; not the finish line of a race, but the opening gate to a brand new confidence.


On September 22, 2012, my Belle put everything on the line and conquered her first long-distance event. This is a tribute to her determination.

Flint’s Triangle Training Plan

Don’t look out the window to see what the weather’s like.

Don’t expect anything from what you’re about to do.

Don’t bring or wear anything that calculates.

Don’t wait or depend on others.

Don’t muster reasons why.

Don’t back out.

Don’t plan.

Go out.

Do.