Thoughts on a Trail

I used to run from the Hampton trail head to the Appalachian Trail and to Laurel Falls as often I could. I need to do it again but time and the price of gas and laziness conspire against me. Thanks to Mark Peacock's blog for the pictures that are imbedded in this post.

While running, I used to contemplate the beauty of this 2.5 mile trail, the dangers of speeding along the more difficult sections, and the payoff at the end (if it was warm enough outside, the payoff included a swim at the bottom of the falls).

When I crossed the bridge in this picture, I knew I was about 1/3 of the way to the falls.Some of the insights I remember from the trail:

The smoothest place to land is usually the slipperiest:
When running on rocks you have to think two steps ahead. You need to know where the next step will land because it's too late to decide where this step will land. When looking for that next spot it is tempting, at first, to look for the smoothest stone. Don't do it! That one doesn't provide very solid footing, especially if the trail is wet. If you want good traction, you look for a well placed crag.

I've found that the same is true in life. We often look for the smoothest path. We soon learn that smooth isn't as good for us as we had hoped. The crags in life's path can become part of our salvation. We need a something to grab. We need traction.

The Psalms come to mind.

"I love you, God— you make me strong. God is bedrock under my feet, the castle in which I live, my rescuing knight. My God—the high crag where I run for dear life, hiding behind the boulders, safe in the granite hideout." Psalm 18:1

The harder you push yourself, the more likely you are to twist your ankle:
When I used a stopwatch to time my runs I would push myself to improve my quickest time. The challenge was nice, but it's harder to feel the trail beneath your feet when you're running hard. I regularly twisted my ankle (usually when leaves covered the path). Sometimes, when I was trying to pick up speed on a downhill portion of the trail, my ankle twist threatened to send me into a little spike from a downed tree, or over the edge of a pretty steep precipice.

The falls usually resulted in scraped hands and knees as well as twisted ankles. For some reason it felt good, like it was all part of the challenge. I made sure to get up immediately and run (or hop) it off. I wish I was more like that in everyday life.

Snakes always surprise me--in a bad way:
Once I was running along the narrow passage between a small cliff and Laurel Creek (river?). It's a pretty easy place to go fast because there is a patch of concrete that serves as the path (I know ... concrete on the Appalachian Trail?). On one occasion I jumped over a rock and, while I was in the air, I realized there was snake coiled directly beneath me on the path. I thought I was running as fast as I could. I was wrong. I felt like a cartoon character in the air. You know the scene ... it's the one in where the character's legs spin faster in the air and motion lines develop behind them and the cartoon springy-zoomy sound appears.

Because of my religious upbringing, the snakes I came across always reminded me that you never really know when temptation will lie in your path.

Always Stop and Admire the Beauty:
I used to make it a point (even when I was timing myself) to stop and to breathe in the experience. It would be a shame to spend an hour on the trail and not notice the river, the various water falls, the beaver dams, the rhododendrons, the smell of decaying leaves, the trees bending in the wind, and the feel of fresh, forest air.

The corollary with life is obvious. I get so busy that I forget to admire all that God has given me, to take a deep breath and appreciate the gift of being.

You Can't Stay at the Falls:
I loved turning the corner on the path and hearing the waterfall, then glimpsing it through the tree trunks, and then (at long last) staring it full in the face and feeling the mists that celebrate the continual event. At this point my run came to a full stop. I couldn't help but pray every time arrived. I couldn't help but thank God for such a beautiful place and for the opportunity to enjoy it.

Too soon, however, I would turn and make my way back up the path and start running back to the trailhead. It's hard to turn your back on something that leaves you in awe. It's harder still to run away.


Just writing this post reminds me that I need to go back and visit. Anyone want to run to the falls with me?