by Greg Johnston

Oct 31, 2002 -You’re running through the forest on a rolling ridge under a deep green canopy of fir and maples, padding softly on a dirt trail, hopping the occasional root or rock, the cool fall air feathering around your sweaty forehead.

Your calves burn a bit on the ups, your thighs on the downs. But you feel a vague sense of exhilaration. You feel alive. You feel kind of like a kid again.

“I think it’s kind of a natural instinct we have,” says Scott Jurek of Seattle, one of America’s pre-eminent trail runners. “We really weren’t meant to run on pavement and concrete. Being on the trail, in terms of how your brain and body reacts, it’s almost like instinct. Nowadays, we just hop into a car. But locomotion, whether walking, hiking or running, is really what we were meant to do.”

Trail running can feel like the most natural thing in the world. It’s a terrific change of pace for track or road runners. Avid trail runners insist it’s easier on your knees, legs and the rest of your body than pounding on paved surfaces, and provides a more well-rounded workout. And it’s an activity that’s growing in popularity, not exactly by leaps and bounds, but definitely noticeable to all who use Washington trails at any pace.

However, it’s a trend that not all users of the Seattle region’s often crowded trails are happy about and it is generating some concern among trail managers.

Earlier this year I wrote a critical review of a guidebook by long-distance trail runner Cheri Pompeo Gillis of Woodinville, who included several rough and rugged trails, some into very deep wilderness. The review prompted a significant flow of e-mail, some from hikers who agreed, but most from unhappy trail runners. A few questioned the reporter’s psychological lucidity and were outraged that anyone would question their right to run anywhere.

It was clear the topic deserved examination in greater depth, so being a regular runner myself, I asked Gillis if I could join her for a run. After exacting a promise from her not to run my butt ragged or otherwise maim me, we set out on a recent cool morning with two of her friends for a run at St. Edward State Park near Kenmore.

It was great fun. St. Edward’s trails offer a mix of relatively short and steep stretches, flat stretches along Lake Washington and on the upland above, and short stretches of rolling hills, all in lush, relatively mature, second-growth forest.

On steeper pitches we slowed to a fast walk — almost all trail runners walk at times, Gillis says.

In addition to the shoreline stretch, my favorite was the rolling hills — there’s something Zen-like about the up and down. And there’s something relaxing about simply running in the forest.

“People argue that we go too fast to enjoy it,” Gillis says. “But I don’t think that’s true. I enjoy it. I forget about work out there. Out in the woods, you don’t think about negative things. If you’re running on the roads, you’re still kind of in a type A area. On the trails, you’ve got the sight and the smells.”

Says Lorraine Arnold of Woodinville, one of Gillis’ friends: “It’s just so much nicer than an urban trail. It takes your mind away from things and it’s just so soothing.”

It is clear that there are two varieties of trail runners. Probably most trail runners are casual recreational runners who take to trails because it’s fun to run in the woods, and might run three to eight miles at a time. But there is a very avid hard core of trail runners who put in hours of running and do remarkable things such as competing in ultramarathons of 50 or even 100 miles.

Gillis and Jurek are hard-core trail runners. The most Gillis has ever run was 102 miles. Remarkably, Jurek has won the past four Western States 100 races, one of the nation’s biggest 100-miles runs.

More at seattlepi.nwsource.com

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