It's not how fast you go

It's that you go that counts.

At least that's what I like to tell myself as glaciers go racing past me

Maybe I've spent too much time as a hobby jogger - or perhaps "experiential runner" is more accurate - but I was utterly baffled by a response I got recently.

No, it wasn't from turkey tails...but it was from a fun guy!

I'd learned that the Polar Paws Trail Race is coming back for 2022, with a brand new venue to explore. So, I passed that information (plus the link to register) along to someone I know who enjoys running trails, and has a soft heart for animals - the race has, after all, historically been a fundraiser for the Etobicoke Humane Society.

As well as a lovely time in the woods

I said I was in for the 25k and Tank (whom this person also knows) would be at the aid station all day. The person I invited told me they were really out of shape right now, so needed to work on that first - they haven't been running much.

Which I sort of get, but..

Here's the thing: if you're having trouble getting motivated to go out and run, wouldn't laying down a bit of money (for a good cause) and making a solid appointment to do so be a good idea?

Not to mention just getting some fresh air and time in the trees?

I told my invitee that there was nothing saying they had to go hard: just run a bit, walk a bit, and enjoy the time in the beauty of nature.

The person said they'd think about it.

This led me to an examination of why I race these days - I'm generally not fast enough to do anything noteworthy in the results, and I've arrived at so many start lines with injuries that it's become rather a joke. But still, I'm always happy to lay down my cash, get up before the sun, and go chase a bunch of flags that someone took the time to poke into the ground in the forest.

Sometimes for a few hours - sometimes for a few days

Apart from trying to make cutoff times (mostly out of respect for the volunteers and race directors who have lives of their own to get back to), I'm seldom concerned about the clock while I'm out there, or my particular fitness level at the time.

Chasing no-one but my own shadow, and the next lovely view

Races offer me the chance to go explore places I might not ordinarily hear about or visit, and stay out longer or in worse conditions than I otherwise might on my own.

Though some recent flooding had me questioning where the limit is in what I'll do on my own
(in the dark, with snow starting to fall)

But really, it all comes down to joy - the pure elation of setting out on a course, not knowing what beautiful sight or nefarious challenge the race director may have in store for me, or what delightful encounters I may have with wildlife or other runners (which can sometimes be considered the same thing, really - these are trail runners we're talking about!) along the way.

Frosty sunsets or sunny mud puddle jumping?

The worst thing I can think of would be never knowing what could have been, just because I didn't feel like I was in shape enough to race.

..but maybe that's just me.

See you in the woods!