Surrender

One thing I have been trying to incorporate more often is trail running.  It’s challenging in different ways then running.  It demands my presence in each moment, I don’t have the room for my thoughts to wander too far.  When I run on the road the time passes quickly because I can be careless at times and daydream my way through. The ground below my feet is fairly reliable with each stride with the exception of the occasional uneven storm drain but I quickly recover from those.  The trails do not allow for that same daydreaming, the ground changes and shifts beneath my feet  constantly and it forces me to stay present and focused.  I have come to love this practice.  

 

The other day, I decided to get in a trail run before work.  It was cold and gray with temperatures around 15 degrees Fahrenheit.  I had hoped the mud was frozen and the soft coating of snow that had recently fallen would soften the ground beneath me.  It started out like I had thought and quickly changed.  The trail I usually run, covered in snow, had iced over and was super slippery.  I decided quickly to shift my route and run a flatter trail.  It too was icy as well and slightly slippery but I quickly identified how to adapt and hit the parts previously traveled which had given way to crunchy snow beneath.  I eventually found footprints that seemed to meet my stride just right so I worked to match my stride to the prints of someone else’s path.  This was working well for a little while, until one of those prints gave way to a wet muddy puddle and my foot was wet.  My first reaction was “ sh*t!”  I would have to cut this short because it was too cold to run with a wet foot. I couldn’t just stop the run wet foot or not, I had to run to get back to my car anyway so I might as well keep going and then I laughed at myself because it occurred to me how foolish I had been to follow someone else’s path as if it were my own. 

 

I kept going around the lake and came to spot I had forgotten about, I usually just jump over it because it’s almost always wet and muddy.  My first thought was, “this is so annoying.  I’m so stupid for trying to do this today.” The ice on top was too thin to cross and the ice on the outskirts of this obstacle made it too far of a jump for me to do without ending up on my butt so I tried to carefully step my way around it, pulling myself on tree branches along the perimeter to circumvent the wet mud and the pressure of my foot breaking the thin layer of ice.  It took a little longer but I got across and kept going.  Once safely on my way on the crunchy snow, I thought, “This is kind of fun, it’s like a winter obstacle course.”  I almost missed out on the fun, pouting about the inconvenience of this not being the run I imagined it would be.   I kept going, back on track, taking it slow and finding path’s less traveled, trusting myself to make my own way today.  

 

There was a lot of slipping and sliding running up and down the unsteady ground of the trails but somehow I was managing to maintain my unsteady balance.  Shortly after stopping to pet one of the few dogs out on the trails this morning, I was feeling a boost of energy and positivity that saying hello to the pups as I go always gives me.  We both navigated our way around some of the icy obstacles he would go ahead and then look back at me, his owner a bit behind us he waited for her and watched her intently as he had me, she too crossed the icy downhill obstacle and I pet the pup and headed on my way.  I was almost finished and feeling really good, proud of myself for not giving up and soaking up all the challenges the trail gifted me today.  My thoughts began to wander as I praised myself for not falling once  despite all the slips and no sooner had the thought come, my left hip hit the icy patch as my legs flew out in front of me but somehow I bounced myself back up and just kept running.  I heard a voice of another hiker yell, “ Are you ok?! That was a very graceful fall.”  “I’m good! I yelled back and kept running.  “Stay humble and present.” I told myself the rest of the way.  The fall, a gift to remind me I’m human, I make mistakes, but I still get up, surrender to the challenge, and keep going.  Suddenly my pride after my fall shifted to gratitude, I didn’t break a hip, I bounced up and kept going.  I can still do this despite the years that keep passing.  I felt so much gratitude to be right there doing exactly what I was doing, surrendering to the ice.

 

Surrender, it can have such a weak connotation, like giving up.  But maybe surrender can also be the greatest strength?  Had I not respected the dangers of the ice on the trails today and surrendered to the gifts it gave, there’s a good chance I would have injured myself or quit.  The run I had imagined and planned for myself that day was not anything like the run that happened but reflecting back on it, it was probably better.  The icy trails giving me everything I needed that day, teaching me to go with what is, make it fun, stay humble, present, grateful, and surrender to the icy trails.