My Heart's in the Highlands

"Well my heart's in the Highlands gentle and fair,

Honeysuckle blooming in the wildwood air" -- Bob Dylan

Today, on New Year's Day, I went to visit a dear friend, a friend I have called upon and relied on many, many times.  I have shared all my wildest hopes and dreams with her, and all my deepest fears and darkest insecurities.  Never once did I feel judged, feel "less than", and I always felt safe, with no conditions, and no regrets.  As is often the case with many runners, we sometimes fall in love with a special trail for special reasons.  The trail I am smitten with is Laurel Highlands Trail.

I began running this trail in earnest at the start of 2011 as I realized I simply had to get serious about Comrades and Leadville.  Looking for a moment only at the objectivity of training, and after a solid year under my belt, I proclaim and will always maintain that Laurel is one of the finest and toughest pieces of real estate to prepare for any ultra in this country.  Laurel is unrelenting and unyielding.  It is a rocky, rooty, gnarly, ungulating roller coaster of a run that demands constant vigilance and attention.  One minute of careless diversion and you'll find yourself on your ass in a second.  Due to its technical nature, 12-minute miles in the first portion of the trail are a real brag, even for the most seasoned runner.  Right out of the parking lot, in the first couple of miles, you begin a climb of almost 700-to-800 feet to an overlook of the beautiful Youghiogheny River, where I have paused many times to reflect on this-n-that.          

After a steep descent, there is another climb of over 500 feet, followed by another steep descent.  Along the way, there are lovely streams and dirt jeep trail crossings, scenic views, deer and turkey, all in a artful hardwoods setting of maples, oaks, and hickory trees.  After about 6 miles, the piece de resistance is an lung-busting, steep ascent of about 1,200 feet plus where no attempt has been made to add switchbacks.  By the time the 8 milepost has been reached, you will have truly been tested.

Technical details aside, what I appreciate the most about Laurel is entirely personal.  It turned out that I spent a lot of time on Laurel last year alone.  It was not that I was misanthropic nor antisocial.  In fact, from time-to-time, it's fun to go out with a bunch of people on a group run.  It was simply the way it shook out and ultimately ended up being my preferred way to train.  For me, when I train, I almost always have a structured agenda spelled out a priori (e.g., do 9 miles at 20% above race target pace with 10 x 100 meter strides).  But what I came to discover last year was that when I was on Laurel I was able to gain something far more valuable than increased fitness.  I was able work through issues, solve problems of not only a statistical nature, but of a psychological nature.  It was free therapy, the letting go, a lesson learned, the hurt that healed, the hope renewed, and finishing the run in a better mindful state than when I started.  It was learning about commitment, about patience and unwavering focus on goals, about being comfortable in my own skin.  It was about resolving issues from the past and quelling future fears and stress, those two formidable foes of willpower, of today.  For last year, Laurel gave to me an order of magnitude more than I could have ever gave her.

It seems so appropriate that this morning, this New Year's Day morn, as the sun came up over those dull Allegheny Mountains that I should be heading up the Laurel Trail.  Hello, Laurel!  Hello, my faithful friend!  My pace was slow and steady as I had no agenda today other than to enjoy the moment.  One of the greatest lessons I have learned from Laurel is that sometimes it is ok not to think at all, to simply exist, breath and be.  And that is what happened this morning ... mile after mile ... I simply needed to be alone and wipe the slate clean on the start of another year.  With the distant white noise roar of the Yough, the damp brown leaves piled on the trail, the occasional deadfall, a chipmunk chirping and scurrying into the mountain laurel.  Spits of rain came through and left just as quickly.  A few times my mind started to percolate and coalesce.  I started to formulate race plans for 2012 but then thought better of it.  No, the future does not belong in this fine morning, not now.  I thought about New Year's resolutions but decided I have reached a point in my life where I am no longer making them; they seem like such a wasteful substitute for getting things done.  Stop thinking ... let go, and just run for a few hours.        

My friend Tad Davis, and fellow Laurel runner, probably summed it up best when he remarked in an email that some Bob Dylan song verses perfectly described his connection with Laurel. 

"The wind, it whispers to the buckeye trees in rhyme

Well my heart's in the Highlands

I can only get there one step at a time"