Anatomy of A Trail Run

Ahh, trail running. There's nothing quite as liberating as forsaking the asphalt in favor of the dirt, rocks, and stumps of the trail. If Joseph Conrad had been an outdoor enthusiast rather than a merchant marine, he likely would have written "Heart of Darkness" about a run into the mountains rather than a trip up the Congo River.

With each step of a climb, you find yourself more and more removed from civilization; more and more one with nature. Away go the sounds of modern life -- the relentless rumbling of the cars, the incessant rattle of nearby construction, the people shuffling and talking, shuffling and talking -- until all you're left with is...silence. It's akin to going back in time. Or at least it would be, if it weren't for all the cool technology...

Here are my very own Salomon XA Pros (you didn't think Lauren thought of it all by herself, did you?) As noted in my earlier post, they truly are equipped to handle anything. Without shoes like these, rock-strewn singletrack would devastate your ankles. Attached to the right shoe is a Polar foot pod; it tracks distance and more importantly, elevation and total ascent. This way you know when you're nearing the top of a long climb. Without it, it is very easy for your spirit to be broken on a seemingly never-ending stretch of switchbacks.

McConnel taping. It's a testament to modern medicine that two strips of tape can undo 30 years of poor genetic tracking of my patella tendon. This simple tape job succeeded where four months of physical therapy failed.

Gotta' love the Fuel Belt. I know my lovely sister Karen did, before I stole it. Sorry, Kar, but you wouldn't want me to be thirsty out here, would you?

Equipped to hold 32 ounces of water, a cell phone, water purifiers, and a bit of food, it's essential for any undertaking over 45 minutes. Climbs can get very hot, and it is easy for your body to fail you above 11,000 feet without emergency food. Also, as my former training partners from Colorado can attest, I wasn't exactly blessed with an impeccable sense of direction. I've been lost a couple of times, and run out of water once. Without the purifier, you'd be left drinking from a mountain stream, which nine times out of ten will mean giardia, a nasty little bug that will leave you in the bathroom for the better part of a week.

Finally, the eyewear. Nothing says "super-hip" like amber-tinted sunglasses! Most trails wind through dense forests before summitting, meaning shade is constant. With dark sunglasses, it would be difficult to differentiate between trail and rock and root, meaning a busted ankle, particularly on the descent, is a distinct possibility.