It’s when the foot hits the trail that the rest of the world stops.  On the road, there are cars and people and cyclists, and, try as I may, I can’t not think of my to-do list and schedule and pace and form and so on.  It’s hard to relax when there are things going on all around you.

But on the trail, it’s quiet.  And I had forgotten that until we went for a trail run this past Saturday.

With just a sliver of the moon hanging in the sky, we donned our headlamps and hit the trails at Cannonsburg State Game Area.  Almost instantly the familiar rhythm of trail running came back to me as the trail would dip and swerve and climb and drop.  I concentrated on the spot of light two steps ahead of me but occasionally glanced to my left and right to see the trees go by.  Everything was covered in a fresh layer of snow that would crunch under our footfall, and a couple of miles in, the sun started to rise.  One of my favorite (though probably not my smartest) things to do is turn my headlamp off maybe just a smidgen too soon. I don’t know, maybe it’s the reckless side in me, but it forces me to concentrate even more, and the more I concentrate on the trail, the less I think about all the little trivial things.  But as we made our way through the trails and chatted, I couldn’t help but think that life just doesn’t get much better.

Ya, it didn’t take long to re-fall in love with trail running.  I knew I missed it, but I didn’t realize how much so until this past weekend. And it didn’t take long for old habits to resurface as well.  It seems as though the tradition of chocolate muscle milk after long runs on the trails all last summer created a kind of pavlovian response, so we were left with no choice but to keep the tradition going. So lets raise the proverbial glass of muscle milk and say cheers: here’s to trails and the many miles I look forward to spending on them this year.

So just when I thought we might make it through winter unscathed, Saturday happened.  Julie Andrews clearly wasn’t a winter-time runner.  If she were, she would understand that when snow stays on your nose and eyelashes, that means it’s pretty stinkin’ cold. I doubt it would still be one of her favorite things.

Liz and I decided to go for our long run early saturday morning, and boy was it cold.  Half way through our run I looked over, and in place of my running buddy was a frost-faced snow creature.  I tried to laugh and/or smile, but my face was so numb that it felt like I’d just had 73 shots of botox at once, so all I could muster were some weird noises and the stink eye.  Hardly what I was going after.

Nevertheless, I had a great time and it was a pretty solid run.  Had we been out there any longer, though, we might have frozen over, especially since the temp dropped 4 degrees while we were out.  After a hot shower and a thorough thawing, I kicked back on the couch and enjoyed some post-run laziness… and one of my favorite things.

Lastly, in light of the holiday tonight….

Need to send any last minute Valentine’s for that special running partner in your life… metaphorical and/or literal?  Here are a few that just might work.

I may be a little hopeful here, but the slightly warmer weather and abundance of sun has me thinking of that time of year of again–the time of year where 5Ks start popping up left and right and flowers aren’t too far behind.  And whereas for most runners 5Ks don’t seem to be that big of a deal, I’ve been having some conversations with people lately that remind me how 5Ks (and races in general) can actually be a huge deal, particularly for those who don’t classify themselves as “runners.”

I hear it all the time in the store. “I’m not a runner.”  And it’s usually said in the same incredulous tone as one would use to deny any connection to a cult–heavens no, I’m not one of those people.  I’m typically baffled by this and have tried to figure out who this “runner” is that no one wants to be associated with.  I think there is this image of what a “runner” is, and it tends to be a hard core elite athlete who runs 10 miles everyday.  And they are the ones who enter races and wear fancy shoes and tight, branded clothing and watches the size of their face.  They are incredibly fast and eat energy gels for dessert.  The runner is intimidating to the non-runner.  To be honest, the runner is down right scary to me.

Luckily, this runner is a rarity…I mean, who eats energy gels for dessert?

But here’s the reality: yes, there are runners that will live up to that expectation, but they are by no means the majority.

I’d like to make a case for the idea of the runner to be expanded to include the person who runs.  They are the person getting out a couple times a week to put one foot in front of the other and spend some time getting the heart rate up.  I like to think that if you run, you’re a runner. I’ll give you a second to take that in, because this means that a vast majority of us are now runners. That’s right. You are now one of those people.

And a 5K time or a race under the belt is by no means the mark of a true runner, but there is something to be said for it.  I’ve mentioned before the fun of a Turkey Trot at Thanksgiving time, but the same goes for 5Ks.

So what’s the big deal with taking part in the traditional initiation into the runner’s world–the 5K.

Ben and I were having a conversation not too long ago about 5Ks and why people, namely those new to running, are hesitant to sign up for a 5K.  Ben is the master of metaphors, so I don’t know why I was shocked when he yet again developed an earth shattering analogy, but it finally cleared things up for me.  This is how he put it:

Every once in a while I will take to the pool and use swimming laps as a cross-training piece. When I was doing tris, I used to do so quite regularly.  So Ben asked me, how would I feel about entering an open swim meet? Is that something I would consider?

Quite frankly, the answer is a very emphatic no way. Why? Well for one, I’m not a swimmer and…wait… lightbulb.  I could see a little more clearly, and I suddenly gained a deeper appreciation for people who step out of their comfort zones and sign up for their first 5K.

So if you are maybe just perhaps considering the possibility of a 5K, here are a few tips to make it a little less frightening.

First, remember what I’ve just said about who really makes up the majority of runners.  I promise, we’re not all that scary.  Second, consider finding a 5K that is local or fun.  There are a lot of 5Ks that are put on for causes or in celebration of something.  This tends to be a more relaxed atmosphere and takes the edge off of worrying about time and performance.  Lastly, find some people that will join you.  Trust me, it will be much more fun that way, and you will at least have a sidekick to have your back should you start to freak out.

Want some suggestions for good local ones? Calvin 5K Spring Classic, The Wheel Run, Irish Jig, Brian Diemer Amerikam 5K… the list can go on. Check them out, maybe sign up for one.  And if not, no worries. You’re still a runner.  Don’t try to fight it.

At last week’s group run, I was feeling light and fresh.  I’ve been recovering fairly well from my bouts with hip issues, and getting back in to the running groove 3 miles at a time has proven to be the difficult yet smart way to go about it.  However a big reason I was feeling particularly good at the group run that night was because I had already paid my dues in pain earlier that day at PT360.

I was a little nervous when I first walked in to their place on Wealthy St, but the quiet office and the coat rack in the corner put me at ease–I don’t know why, but there’s something disarming about coat racks.  Nevertheless, I changed into my running shorts, got comfy, and practiced my calm and composed face I intended to show once things got real.

Before that time came, though, Dave chatted with me about the practice and philosophy behind PT360, where things are a little bit different.  They practice what is called Neuromuscular Manipulative Therapy–that’s basically a lot of syllables for taking a hands-on, holistic approach to restoring balance in your joints, muscles, and nerves. He pulled out a couple of medical books (thankfully ones with pictures) and I began to get a sense of how complex yet connected everything was. I was also reminded why I didn’t go to med school.

My prior experience with physical therapy was mostly in high school, showing up after practice and getting hooked up to some machine that would send currents into my muscles and make them jump, followed by some exercises, and icing — something I quickly lost interest in when I realized it involved frozen water and not the sugary goodness I hoped for.

We talked, and he ran me through a series of tests–asking me to resist as he pushed and pulled my limbs every which way.  When tasked with any kind of strength or performance test, I don’t just like to pass.  I like to win. But I was instantly humbled when entire sections of my body failed to hold up under the slightest push. He assured me I would get a shot at redemption after we got started.

He set to work on my right calf, and I wanted to remind him that it was my left hip, not my calf, that needed work, but I was quickly silenced when he pressed his thumb into the muscle and held it there. Cue the time when things get real.  Through the spots and flashes of agony, I began to see how everything truly was connected.  He re-tested my left hip after releasing my calf, and before I could mentally trace a path from calf to opposite hip, I was locked and strong, not budging under the force he applied to my leg.

I chuckled in disbelief. Sold.

So after the calves he continued to work through the other muscles in my legs–shins (ow), feet (holy ow), lower quads (that’s-just-wrong ow), and finally the hips (it-would-be-improper-to-describe ow).

While his elbow dug in to my hip, Dave’s hands were free to casually gesture along to the story of how he came to be in the business of pain–or, as most people refer to it, physical therapy. He cracked a joke and laughed a little, but I missed the punch line as my ears pounded while all the blood rushed to my head, trying to hold back any cry for mercy.  A few minutes went by as I smiled obliviously, nodding and focusing on pleasant things like puppies and pineapple.  Soon, to my surprise, the pain dissipated.  I opened my eyes, and interestingly enough, his elbow was still in that same spot and applying the same amount of pressure.  ”How’s the pain? Can you feel it start to lift and release a bit?”

Surprisingly, I did.  With every muscle he targeted, what began as border-line unbearable always ended with relief.  And by the time we were through and we re-tested everything, I was stronger and felt lighter.

Things get out of balance, and when they do, problems are bound to come up.  Our bodies need tune-ups much like a car would.  We too are a series of interconnected moving parts, and when one part loses its efficiency or is thrown out of line, it creates more work and stress for the rest.  And the cool thing about going to see Dave at PT360 was not only that he explained things in a way that made sense, but that he is clearly passionate and excited about what they do there.  Definitely worth checking out.

With my job, I have the fortune of getting to meet all sorts of people who are all at different points in their training.  There are the ones who are kinda-sorta perhaps just maybe thinking about signing up for a race.  They’re not sure if it’s something they want to commit to or even try to accomplish, but the thought is there.  Or there are the people who have just started running and are a little hesitant to stick with it because they’re just not seeing what all this hoopla about running is about. And how about those of us who find ourselves coming off of a long break from running but just can’t get back in the swing of things?  Interestingly enough, all of these people have something in common.

What they need (and what we all need) is a way to make running stick–in fact, what we need is to get fired up.

It’s the sure way to get back on track when motivation wanes and confidence falls short. Getting fired up is what keeps you excited enough to pull the shoes on and put one foot in front of the other. Getting fired up takes you from “having” to do something to “wanting” to do something.

So how does one go about getting fired up?  Just as it is with almost everything else in the world, it is going to depend on the individual.  Me personally? “Come Sail Away” by Styx never fails to get me pumped and rearing to go. Other fire stokers for me include running buddies, new socks, slow motion montages set to inspiring music, quiet trails, the constant recollection of how happy I inevitably am after a run, and Rudy.

But that’s just me. What is important is what gets you specifically fired up.  Is it a cool and quiet morning that holds the promise of a good run before any of the day’s stresses can spoil it? How about a (surprisingly) sunny (January) afternoon that you just can’t pass up?  You may find that “Come Sail Away” takes too long to get to the good part so maybe “Eye of the Tiger” might have more immediate results for you.  The more militant-minded likely need a Rudy-figure in their life–find that person and have them prepared to deliver emotional, inspiring speeches amidst your doubtful moments or times where you are less than driven, even if those times happen to be at 6AM.  Some people need a challenge to work toward or a worthy competitor to run against. Pick out a sweet race–perhaps a destination race or one you can do with other people.  Mark your calendar and go for it. If you have an arch nemesis, see if they too are a runner… you’ll always want to one-up them.

Whatever it is, find it, hold on to it, and run for it. Run for you. It’s the only way to do it.