Weekly Round-Up #8

Self-control, how does one attain such a thing? If you’re like millions of other Americans, gaining, re-gaining, or denying self-control is an all-encompassing task. Thankfully, self-control is like a muscle, like a magic muscle, actually, that gives back what you put into it. Nathan DeWall knows this well. After losing his mother, he turns to running as a coping mechanism, and in doing so learns that the self-control he needed to train and run for a 100-mile race was also applicable at home and the office.

Did you know that 25% of college-educated women are forgoing procreation? It blew my mind too. This article attempts to deconstruct the age-old idea that women who choose a life without children are “shallow, selfish, and self-absorbed.” Turns out, women nowadays are thinking critically about the decision, and realizing that maybe rearing children while also commandeering a full-time job is not what their dreams are made of.

The times they are a-changin’. Women and minorities are stepping into roles they’ve previously left unoccupied in numbers we haven’t seen before. In conservation, it’s no different, “Today, an unprecedented number of women are pursuing degrees in conservation science, leaving men as the minority in the classroom.” On top of that, minorities, and women of color, are making their mark on the conservation world. Read more about their stories here.

Gina Lucrezi is a trail blazer. Literally. In 2016, she created the online community Trail Sisters, which promotes and empowers women in trail running. After moving to Colorado Springs, and meeting Nancy Hobbs, Lucrezi continued to realize the importance of community in such a solitary sport. Through trail running, she began learning more about the discrepancies between male and female athletes and decided to take a stand against it. This article, “Every Woman Should Have a Trail Sister,” encourages women to find another women to run with, and if that isn’t possible, to at least find the online forum for the sense of community and solidarity it offers.

Trail Run Tempo

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Trail running can be hard.

In Utah, where 99.9% of all trails head directly UP, and switchbacks are scarce, getting into trail running can be, well, exhausting. If you’re hard-pressed to find a moderate trail to begin on, is it even worth “running” at all if you spend the majority of the time speed-hiking?

When I talk to people about venturing into the world of dirt and scraped knees, the most common, and almost immediate, response is this:

I don’t think I can run the whole thing.

My dear, sweet friends, I have good news for you!

The majority of trail runners walk the uphills.

You read that right! When I first started trail running I had no idea that even the elitest of the elites will hike the uphills and run the downhills (granted their uphills are literal mountains, but still).

So when we’re talking about how fast or slow you should be trail running, the best answer I can find is to do what feels right for YOU and YOUR BODY. It’s easy to get so caught up in what we think we should or shouldn’t be doing, that we make it impossible for ourselves to even start. That’s a nasty trap to get caught in.

In Salt Lake, there are some great, moderate trails for beginners. The Pipeline Trail in Millcreek Canyon, and the Bonneville Shoreline Trail near the Avenues and the University, are both great options. And as you move on from there, give yourself grace, and a high-five for getting out in the first place.

The outdoors can be intimidating, I know from experience. It’s even more intimidating when you live in a place that professional athletes use as their training ground. However, I suggest we use that as motivation to get out and get after it.

Who knows? After a few years of training you could be running laps around the Wasatch.

 

What They Don’t Tell You About Running

Around 5am every morning you can hear the low hum of complaint as angry runners rise from their comfy beds to get 30 minutes in before the day is underway. They grumble as they lace up their running shoes, grunt as they pull on their compression socks, and whimper as they step out into the cold, unforgiving world. They force their way through three unpleasant miles, and kiss the door as they return, so absolutely thankful that running is out of the way, and they don’t have to go through the process for another 24 hours.

Fun, right?

And then they go to work and complain to their coworkers about how much they hate running, but they have to do it. They do it for the carbs, or for the abs, but never because they want to. We love the camaraderie of misery.

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I used to be a spiteful runner. I ran in spite of what I wanted, and for that I was proud. I made myself run today, wasn’t I a rockstar? I didn’t give in to my primal desire to lay in bed all day, feasting on Cheetos and binging on Netflix. No, I went out and I ran.

It was awful.

All that time I spent angry about my feet hitting the pavement was a lot of wasted energy. If running is something you do for thirty minutes a day, four times a week, that’s over 100 angry hours every year. Four entire days of negativity. Sounds exhausting.

Especially because something wonderful happens when you embrace the choice to run. Your body finds it’s rhythm. You start to feel like a gazelle. You start to build confidence and mental endurance. You begin to believe you were made to run. And guess what, you were.

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Our ancestors were persistence hunters, chasing down their prey before the invention of bows, arrows, and rifles. We ran to protect ourselves from predators, and as early as 1829 B.C. we were running for sport in ancient Greece. Our body mechanics, from our glutes, to our sturdy trunk, are huge proponents in our choice to continue moving forward. Running is natural.

Let’s stop buying into the negative narrative about running. In our everything-is-easy-and-accessible world, we shy away from hard things at a rapid pace. While I have a newfound perspective on running, I don’t neglect the fact that running is hard. When I’m running uphill and my lungs are on fire and I feel like I’m going to collapse, I curse the hill, but I keep moving forward. When my arms start to tingle around mile 6, and the sun is beating down on my shoulders, and sweat is burning my eyes, I am thankful to be moving.

Let’s change the narrative and embrace the run.