In a world where I was a famous celebrity eligible to make The Masked Singer, my costume would be trail mix. Not because I like nuts. Because I love to mix it up on the trails.

_{Cue my friends Ashley and Jess rolling their eyes.}

I discovered trail running only about a year ago. My mom always said I was oblivious to those that liked me growing up. I guess I was equally oblivious here.

I ran on backyard trails throughout my childhood and teenagerhood (can’t believe that’s a word). I should have known it was a sport I could call my own. But I never had a clue.

Running magazines and memoirs showed me terms like ‘ultra-running’ and ‘mountain-running.’ Even did the Grouse Grind in Grade 11. But I had no idea people would do such a thing as their daily routine. On long drives to sporting events, I scoured the books and magazines, and I even made plans to one day complete ultra-marathons across the globe. Running far sounded appealing, since I’ve always been better at handling the demands of longer races. I don’t remember anything about any of those books, except for one quote that’s always stuck with me – “run into you bleed.” That unfortunately, is the generous version.

For the bulk of my adolescent running career, I adopted similar outlandish mentalities. I’d run for hours on end, with no water, no food, no fuel. Supposedly, my greatest strength as a runner was my ability to go hours on end without needing anything to eat or drink.

I was injured over and over.

In the final culmination (hopefully final) of my injury woes, I opened Instagram and saw an algorithmic ad for the Golden Trail World Series, celebrating the successes of Remi Bonnet and Nienke Brinkman. Conducting my own research, it sounded like the most amazing form of our sport ever. Running, almost exclusively, on trails. On technical terrain. On impossible terrain. Climbing, scaling, scrambling, descending. All the ing’s that sounded most appealing.

Soon after, I signed up for Sulphur Springs and Falling Water ‘Trail Marathon’, thinking I was ready to become an ultra-runner, without fully recognizing trail as an actual genre of our sport for anyone living outside of Europe. Then one day it hit me. All of my runs have been on trails. I’m a trail runner.

Trail has now become a massive part of my life, and something that takes almost daily priority in my morning routine. It’s not my only passion, nor is it my only way of staying active. But it is one of my favourite things to do.

To some (or rather, to most), trail running sounds painful and unappealing. Most runners want the experience to be either a social or reflective one, where they can spend time in the outdoors and let their mind escape from life’s worries.

I’m the opposite. I love trail running for the cognitive demand. For the difficulty. For the challenge. For the way that I have to focus the entire time. This is why I love trail running.

I’ve always thrived in challenging situations. I test boundaries. Take calculated risks. Make some seriously stupid errors. But also achieve more from being willing to act. Trail running, especially the most technical and steep, is all of that and more. The rockier the terrain, the more complex and varied, and the more ascending or descending to do, the more I get into a flow. The more I feel a sense of accomplishment. A sense of accomplishment that I could never feel trying to compete with the fastest runners in this country. Put us on a road, and I’ve pulled my hamstring before we even begin. Put us on technical terrain, and I’m dancing my way around the rocks and roots like its a choreographed routine, half-looking over my shoulder to see if they’re still there.

Trail running is essentially the perfect combination of all my strengths as a runner; alongside my strengths (and weaknesses) as a human. I can be quite stubborn, I can be quite determined. I can also be quite happy to sit at a task for several hours on end. But there needs to be variety to that demand, and that’s where trail becomes so much more enticing. There’s never a moment where you can just let your mind completely wander away, check your phone to change the music, or get into a real rhythm. You have to be constantly thinking, constantly checking your surroundings, and constantly adjusting your feet to fit the demands of each moment. This never happens on a road or track, where the stride stays the same for the majority of the run. My cadence on the trails might vary from 140-240spm, allowing for different muscles to take on the demands. I love my muscles. It’s nice to use more of them.

Going back to the strengths as a runner, I’ve always loved challenge when it comes to things like uphills, downhills, mud, and genuine obstacles like river crossings, fallen trees or rolling rocks. It’s rare to get so much variety on the roads. But on the trails, the variability of movement allows for my background in hockey and soccer to completely come to the forefront. I spent years shuffling in a low-body stance, utilizing the power in my legs to best my opponents. The same now goes for the trails. I love it because it makes me feel accomplished, and brings out the best in my physical and mental abilities. So while I’m not sure how long this journey will last, I hope trail running stays a part of my life for as long as it continues to be this enjoyable.

The cognitive demand of trail running might not be for everyone, but for me, it’s a perfect harmony of combining an activity I enjoy with added challenge and demand. Cheers to no longer being oblivious.

Thanks for reading and see you soon.