Every pair of running shoes I’ve owned is designed for the roads. Despite having run on several trails in D.C., Virginia, and Pennsylvania, I never felt the need to invest in trail shoes. The pavement is where you’ll typically find my size 15 feet. However, I felt my recent move outside the city of Richmond, VA, with a state park an eight-minute drive away, warranted the purchase of yet another pair of running shoes—my first-ever with lugs on the outsole. With a pair of trail shoes added to my rotation, it begs the question, trail vs road running: which is more fun?
The trail less traveled
I could never quite pinpoint why I prefer roads over trails. Perhaps it’s my self-diagnosed anxiety that makes me shy away from trail running. Instead, opting for the more predictable and structured nature of road running. There are rarely any surprises when it comes to the well-traveled roads. Plus, there’s a lot less activity in secluded forests to distract the mind from the energy the body exerts. Of course, you could argue, trail running provides more intriguing and adventurous runs as we’re surrounded by nature’s beautiful sights, sounds, and terrain.
In fact, research shows a positive association between running satisfaction and nature exposure, including eye-level greenness, top-down greenness and blue space density. Not surprisingly, running in parks or on mostly green routes is significantly associated with the perceived attractiveness of a running environment.
The downside is, often, I literally can’t see the forest for the trees. Everything looks the same! In other words, it’s quite easy to get lost. Add in that I’m directionally challenged, and, I must make absolute sure I mark my tracks to find my way back. Because, lord knows, following weathered, practically illegible trail signs facing multiple directions, only gets me so far.
Straying from the pavement to the gravel is always a nice change of pace from my typical routine. Recently I decided to hit the “open trail” in the aforementioned state park. Safe to say, my mind was racing just as fast as my heart, running in a new trail environment where no one can hear me scream. The following is the inner monologue flooding my head during an 8-mile run as I compare trail vs road running.
No roadmap
“Alright, which way do I go? These park signs don’t make any sense. Screw it, I’ll just close my eyes and choose one. Ha, that’s a good joke. Like I’d actually dare close my eyes while alone in the forest. Hell, I might not even blink on this run. Ok, let’s just go with this trail. It has a cool enough sounding name. Ok, yeah, this feels right. It’s good for me to get off the roads every once in a while. Research shows running on a combination of surfaces can help reduce the risk of injury.
Whoa! What’s that on the ground in front of me?! Is that a snake?! Oh, phew, just a tree root. I could’ve sworn it was a poisonous, venomous snake. Do poisonous and venomous mean the same thing? If not, which is more harmful? Sure, they’re both harmful, but which one is deadlier?
Just relax, you big baby—you’re going to scare yourself to death! Unless that sound of rustling tree branches is a wild animal waiting to pounce on me and rip me to shreds first. Is it a coyote? Tell me it’s a fucking coyote. I mean, not a coyote that’s in the act of having sex, but, an actual fucking coyote! That makes me think: why don’t we call it “making love” when animals do it? Are animals not capable of loving? My dog Nala begs to differ; she has way too much love to give.
Anyway, I still can’t believe there are coyotes in Virginia. If you would’ve told me that, I never would’ve moved to the “Old Dominion State.”
Unbearable
Shit! Surely that pile of dark matter ahead is bear shit! Are there bears here? What kind of dumb question is that—of course there are! You know what they say, where there are coyotes, there are bears. But, are they black or brown bears? Hell, I don’t know the difference. Is there a difference? Beyond their color, of course. Although, I’m not sure if colorblind folks can tell the difference between them. At least I know there are no polar bears. Right? Damnit! Why didn’t I buy pepper spray—does pepper spray work on animals or just on humans that behave like animals? Oh, looks like it’s actually just mud instead of feces.
Forget aliens and zombies, bears are the real monsters—and we know without a doubt that they exist. Well, aliens probably exist, too. We can’t be that naïve and foolish to believe Earth is the only planet that supports life. Plus, have you seen some of the “humans” walking this planet? You can’t tell me they’re not another life-form.
Aliens, if you’re somehow listening to the deranged thoughts swirling around in my noggin: we humans come in peace, and we hope you do, too. But just in case you mean us harm, can you wait a good hundred or so years before visiting Earth? By then we’ll all be long gone, and future generations will have to save the world by engaging in an intergalactic battle for world domination. Hey, come to think of it, that’s pretty much the exact same thing that’s happening right now with global warming, minus the intergalactic battle for world domination.
Ticked off
I must make sure to run exactly in the middle of this path so I don’t wander into the tick-infested tall grass. Oh my God, that’s right: I just remembered, ticks can fall from trees to reach their prey. Alright, forget bears, ticks are the real threat. I’m surprised there haven’t been any horror movies with ticks as the villains.
Well, I’m screwed. At least I’m wearing a hat? Will a hat prevent a tick bite? Who am I kidding? Of course it will! Oh, but they could just crawl down to my neck. I must make sure I do a full body scan for ticks when I get back home. I’ll ask my wife to do it; she’ll love that. God, I love her…mostly when she’s dealing with my shit. I mean, not literal shit.
Ah damnit, my ankle just lightly brushed up against a blade of tall grass. At least, I hope it was grass. Oh no, what if it was poison ivy? I’ve had poison ivy several times before, and let me tell you, it’s no walk in the park. Ha, that’s funny: I’m currently running in a park and it is much harder than walking! I guess that’s why the expression is a “walk in the park” and not a “run in the park.” Go figure!
Trail vs road running
Well, I’m officially lost. There’s no possible way I could keep track of the two turns I made. Crap, I’ve got no GPS signal. I should probably call my wife to come and find me. Oh, no! I’ve got no cell signal, either. God forbid I see one single person out here who could help me find my way back.
Also, speaking of God, honestly, I’m not sure how I haven’t tripped on these God-forsaken rocks and roots. It’s like God purposefully put these obstacles in the way as a warning for morons like me not to run here. Hello God, are you there? It’s me, The Size 15 Runner. If you’re listening, please let me survive this trail run. If you let me continue existing, I’ll never run on another trail again! Promise!
Now I get why it’s called the road to heaven, and not the trail to heaven. Come to think of it, trails are almost always used with a negative connotation: You’ve got the Oregon Trail, the Trail of Tears, and, umm, leaving a paper trail is always a bad idea.
Ugh, these trail shoes suck big time. It feels like they’ve got rocks stuck to the bottoms of the outsoles. I got to stop and look. What the?! Oh, right, those are just the lugs I’m feeling. Oh my God! It’s a snake! Run!
The Size 15 Runner runs and trips over a root in the ground that looks nothing like a snake. In other words, no one would ever confuse this piece of wood for a snake.
Hey, look! The parking lot! Wow, trail running isn’t actually so bad after all! Can’t wait to do this again soon! Crap, I’ve still got no GPS signal. How will I get home? Screw it, trail running sucks.”
