Running in Tahoe

Running with friends, running in beautiful places. Running to great meals, great conversations. I could probably subsist on adventures like this alone - no Garmins, no starting lines, no timing chips. Certainly no fuel belts. It's not to say I don't love the events themselves - I do. I love the energy and the atmosphere, seeing old familiar faces. I love volunteering and yelling and being supportive.

But just getting out to run, deciding your course as you go, winging it up a snow-covered hillside to where you think the trail continues or descending down a singletrack with no clue where it leads. Stopping to take pictures or jump naked into a lake or collect sand dollars on a beach, these make up some of the best times.

As Ben would say, its smiles not miles. Although I do like to know my miles. I mean, one doesn't exclude the other and I'd be lying if I didn't say I'm always curious to know how far I went, but sometimes just setting aside the goal-oriented thinking for something more organic can lead to unforeseen adventures as was the case when I ambled out the backyard of a rental house in Tahoe with some friends and tapped into the Donner Rim Trail a few weekends ago. Trails I never knew existed, rising up over valleys I'd never seen, ascending over ridges to views I'd driven past a hundred times but never seen from a trail.

Of course, all that being said, I'm stoked to have gotten into the Tahoe Rim 50k next month where I'll sleep restlessly, wake up at an ungodly hour, pin my race number just so on my running skirt, scramble to the starting line with hundreds of other runners, set my Garmin and head out at the prescribed starting time.


It's all about balance.