Our good friend, Ian Ramsey is giving us a look into the world of nordic skiing in a video he has created for us.
Ian breaks down the benefits of Nordic skiing for trail runners as well as the different styles and how to get started.
If you have been interested in trying out Nordic skiing in the winter to compliment your trail running check Ian's video out here.
Ian Ramsey is an ultrarunner, writer and educator who splits his time between Maine and the Pacific Northwest. He directs the Kauffmann Program for Environmental Writing and Wilderness Exploration. To learn more, go to www.ianramsey.net.
In a virtual world where there is always someone faster and more adventurous I was struggling to manage what I call “the comparison game.” We’ve all experienced it: you get back from a run feeling like a superhero, upload your data to social media, and begin scrolling through a feed of faster paces, more technical routes, and a five-paragraph write-up from that guy who’s already run twice today. Your smile fades. Doubt creeps in, and you lose your pride somewhere in the scrolling.
The comparison game made it hard to take full rest days, run at my own pace, and truly appreciate my time outdoors. But it didn’t have to be this way. As I returned to Strava after several months away, I brought more awareness and intention to my social media use. I discovered an important truth; if we can curate our feeds, seek meaningful content, and look beyond social media’s focus on outcomes and results, our phones can become pocket-sized aid stations. Instead of comparison, we can find compassion. We can discover a world that affirms our own experiences and uplifts the experiences of others. We can better celebrate the nuanced beauty of running, a complex and human process that will never be represented by just a route and a few numbers.
1. Curate for Community.
As a therapist, I am generally not a fan of people being cliquey, selective, or overly choosy about their friends. But here, you’ve got my full support. Take a look at that “Follower” list, and prioritize your happiness and self-esteem by asking a few questions: Does this user’s content bring me joy and inspiration? Does this account help me feel welcome in my local or online running communities? And, most importantly: Does this person’s online presence (which might be different from who they are off-screen) make me feel good about myself in all aspects of my life? Answering “ no” to any of these questions doesn’t have to be a judgment on another user’s character or who they are as a person. Instead, these questions can be used to curate a more uplifting community that better meets your needs as both a runner and a person.
2. Seek Diverse Content.
In addition to creating a supportive online space, social media can also be used to learn, educate, and broaden our awareness of the running community. By populating our feeds with a more diverse group of runners and athletes, we can challenge the stereotypical expectations of what a runner looks like and what it means to engage in our sport. Race and culture, gender, physical ability, size, geography, and socioeconomic background impact our involvement in sport. The more we seek authentic and diverse voices in all forms of running-related content, the easier it becomes to realize an important truth that extends beyond social media: Trail running isn’t about how far or how fast we run, it’s about creating a space where anyone can feel seen, supported, and at home on the trails. And as our feeds and following lists become more representative of all runners, it is imperative that we bring this same inclusivity to our real-world communities.
3. Celebrate Reality.
Social media is a powerful force. It is ever-present, easily accessible, and provides an addictive hit of dopamine with every refresh and notification. With our devices only an arms-length away, it is more important than ever to balance social media with real, in-the-moment community. Running groups continue to be a mostly safe way to connect with others during the pandemic. They allow us to share our daily practice with others; instead of scrolling through splits and results, we’re doing the actual thing with real human beings. We’re matching strides, talking about life, and laughing in real time. We’re making plans for post-run coffee and setting big goals for the new year. As with our social media, we’re intentionally creating a space where any runner can feel included and welcome.
Initially, removing myself from the Strava community seemed like an effective solution. I made fewer comparisons to others and felt more present on my runs. But, as I started to miss other users’ positive messages and inspiring race summaries, I wondered if there was a way to engage with social media in a way that worked for me. I slowly curated a list of accounts that supported my well-being and shared diverse, educating experiences that are different from my own. I rediscovered a supportive community that I can carry in my back pocket. As we begin a new year, let’s commit to more intentional and inclusive social media. Let’s create online and real-world spaces where we trade likes for laughter and allow everyone to feel welcome and supported as a runner.
Aaron Burrick is a therapist, writer, and trail runner living in Bend, Oregon. Follow along with him on Instagram and learn more about Aaron’s work here: www.aaronburrick.com
It’s something that as a midwestern trail runner…we receive 4 times a year. Common trails put on different clothes every 3 months or so. Just when you get tired of the current scenery…things start to change again and change is happening now.
Winter.
Just a few months ago, the trails in Indiana were a vibrant green. Green. The color of life. Movement. Forward motion. Then, as it changes to autumn, green turns into the color of fire itself. Yellow. Orange. Red. And as if the forest itself burned too hot, we are left with the ashes of autumn. Winter. Gray skies and the color brown is everywhere.
Winter in Indiana can be far longer than 3 months and that’s an awfully long time to wish for spring to come. I was on a run a few days ago on trails I have run on now for almost 6 years straight and realized something about winter running. I see things in winter that I can’t in the spring, summer and fall. It’s the season where the forest and trees show their true self. Leaves are beautiful, but they hide things. It was like I was seeing the forest for the first time. Now that I could see through all of it, I realized that there was a world hidden all year that now is on display. Nests, small streams, downed trees, ridges and even the remnants of a foundation were clear as day. And just like the scenery in spring, summer and fall, this new palette was beautiful.
Speaking of palette. That is something else I’m trying to reframe. Having lived in Indiana my whole life, I’m admittedly envious (at times) of those on the coasts or who have the Rockies as their backyard. Regardless of season, there are seemingly epic landscapes to explore. When we get snow it is beautiful, but we haven’t had snow in a few years and the pervasive color of winter in Indiana…is brown. Gray skies and brown forests. “Beautiful” isn’t the first word that comes to mind when you see a forest devoid of leaves and color. But isn’t beauty everywhere?
So I started thinking about the color brown and what it means in the context of nature and seasons and life. Brown represents earth. Dirt and dust. Soil and silt. The place where a great exchange happens. Death is received and life is given. All year, leaves are on display, flowers bloom, thickets of clover and mayapple plants cover the forest floor. But as the cold sets in, each and every leaf finds a place in the dirt and becomes something far bigger than it was. It’s contribution allows new life to germinate and form. Brown is the color of life in limbo. Life in the waiting.
So for all you midwestern runners who know exactly what I’m talking about, take heart. What we see every time we go out for a trail run is nothing short of a miracle. Yes it might be nothing but a sea of browns and grays, but without that, we couldn’t enjoy the panoply of colors we take in all year. And for those who haven’t experienced an Indiana trail in the winter…you should. You might see a single color, but that color contains life and death and past and present and future. It is the firmament that a sea of colors will once again bloom from. It’s life in waiting and it’s incredibly beautiful.
“Soren Kierkegaard speculated that the mind might function optimally at the pedestrian pace of 3 miles an hour…” The Old Ways by Robert Macfarlane.
I had in mind what I wanted to say about the benefits of easy running and then stumbled upon the first few pages of Robert Macfarlane’s book The Old Ways and promptly scrapped most of it. Yes, we will mention the facts around the benefits of running a little slower, but facts rarely change behavior. I’ve found that inspiration is far more effective.
Easy. Running. Two words that, if you aren’t a runner, rarely go together. Maybe that’s where the problem starts. Even as runners we can subconsciously take issue with this idea of “easy running”. Running should be hard. No pain, no gain. That wonderful feeling of soreness after a hard workout. The subtle (or not so subtle) stiffness that you feel when you get out of bed after a race weekend. The utter relief you feel when you are 5 seconds away from ending your last stride of the day. Seeing the crest of the mountain just through the clouds. These feelings are such a part of running that when our training calendar says “easy day” (i.e. you won’t feel any of the above feelings) we can very quickly disregard it in search of something more...grand. I’m pretty sure that it’s easier to run hard than run easy. It also doesn’t help that most of us have watches that when a run is finished that run is magically uploaded to our training app of choice which just so happens to broadcast to the world what we just did. Subconscious motives can’t be overstated...and I’m guilty of it.
Accessibility of our individual running lives has brought with it an amazing sense of community but at the same time an overwhelming sense of responsibility. It’s no mystery that fitness tracking apps have vastly changed the landscape of trail running. Just a quick glance through my Strava feed and you’ll see names like Walmsley, Jornet, Krupicka, etc… Every morning I can see what the best of the best did before I had my first cup of coffee. We’ve all heard the saying that “comparison is the thief of joy” and at least for me, comparison manifests itself on my easy days. But I’m trying to change my perspective.
I could rattle off facts on how we should generally follow the 80/20 rule where 80% of our running should be easy and only 20% should be hard. Heck, the fastest marathon runner alive today, Eluid Kipchoge, recently said that he runs even more than 80% of his miles...easy. Slowing down can help muscles recover quicker, help to prevent injury and also ready your muscles for the hard workouts to come. But we know all that stuff.
I actually did an experiment a few days ago. I intentionally took my easy day...very easy. My goal was to not go above a pace that was far slower than my comfortable pace. It was very close to the “trail shuffle” that I adopted after about mile 60 in my first 100 mile race. I left the headphones at home. I listened. I actually took a few pictures that I was pretty proud of. My awareness was widened. The quote from The Old Ways came back to me.
Movement is a funny thing. Too quick and the only thing you can focus on is what is right in front of you. Too slow and the distractions can also take over your thoughts. But right in the middle lies a plane of movement that gives your mind just enough intentionality to focus, but not enough to distract. Easy running can help your mind to recover as well as your muscles.
And if that isn’t enough reason to run a little slower a few times a week, I’ll give you one more, and probably the most important. I’ve found the quickest and easiest way to run easier, is to run with a group. If you are the quickest in your group of runners, volunteer to bring up the back of the pack. If you are always at the back of the pack, volunteer to lead the group and do them all a favor! It always comes back to community.
As I’ve reflected on some of my favorite races and best trail running experiences, almost all of them are because I was with a like minded group of runners enjoying the thing we love best. I wasn’t thinking about pace, splits or times. I was fully and completely in the moment. It’s a testament to Kierkegaard’s quote. Just think for a second the myriad of topics you’ve shared in conversation with your running group after a few miles on the trail. Some of the most meaningful conversations I’ve had have been with perfect strangers, deep into a race while I was running a “pedestrian pace”. Yes, there are times we need to train hard, but there are far more times that our mind, body and spirit need easy miles and what better way to do that than in the company of friends, woods and trails.
Brian is a husband, dad, and trail runner…in that order. When not running, he’s usually reading classics, drinking coffee or writing. As an avid photographer, he believes the best camera is the one that is with you, which is usually his cell phone these days. He will stop any workout or trail run for a picture. It’s the one thing we can do to stop time, for just a second, and most of the time that’s just long enough. He’s ran 50 and 100 mile races, but is focusing on the shorter stuff to keep up with his daughter who runs high school cross country. He’s realizing he’s quite slow. But running is a process.
On a crisp day one early October I hiked to Scatter Lake in the Entiat River drainage in Washington’s Cascades in order to climb Abernathy Peak the next day. As I ascended the trail, covered by a few inches of new snow, I came upon a stunning sight beginning at about 6500 feet…..the trees were all a brilliant gold, and under each tree’s drip zone was a mass of needles, their golden color in bold contrast with the pure white snow. I had a weird thought: it was as if the trees had a bad case of botanical dandruff!
These were subalpine larch trees (Larix lyallii), formerly known as Lyall’s larch. Although this was not the only time I had hiked or run in a larch grove, this was one of the more memorable, given the fresh snow, the brisk wind and cold air (+4° F the following morning, in early October!), and the pure gold all around me.
Eleven species of larch are recognized worldwide, and various types are found in Europe, Asia from Siberia to the Himalayas. In North America, in addition to the subalpine variety, there is the Eastern larch (Larix laricina, also called tamarack) and the Western larch (Larix occidentallis) that grows on the east slopes of the Cascades, in central Oregon’s Cascades and the Blue Mountains, north into Washington and into the Rockies of British Columbia and Alberta.
"Yellow" by Nick Danielson
Although Western larch is renowned for high quality lumber and for often seeming like golden beacons among surrounding greenery in autumn , arguably the subalpine larch is more famous due to its ecological niche: this extremely cold-tolerant tree thrives with no trees other than possibly the whitebark pine (Pinus albicaulis) for company.
What’s the big deal, and why do people leave warm homes to venture out into the mountains just about when the seasonal storms start rolling in?
Color! Specifically, gold color! Larches are deciduous conifers, and similar to their distant cousins the deciduous broadleaf trees and shrubs, as air temperature falls and daylight decreases, the needles of mature larch trees sequester nutrients, mainly nitrogen, in the wood. As chlorophyll is removed from the needles, the other colors remain, but unlike many deciduous broadleaf plants where red or orange dominates, yellow (or gold, as I like to say) is primary in larch needles.
Subalpine larches often grow in extensive groves covering many acres, and it is a special thrill to be running along a needle-covered golden trail with sunlight illuminating gold in every direction above and around. Although Western larches seem to do well in fire-prone areas, the subalpine larch can be very long lived. Some specimens in Manning Provincial Park in British Columbia are among the oldest living larches, some being estimated to be over 1,900 years old.
Ability to store nutrients and lose needles makes larches well-suited to withstanding strong winds and heavy snow and ice loading in their subalpine environment. Their deciduous habit limits water stress in the winter and trees can colonize bare rock and talus that are too harsh for other conifers. They have “winged seeds” that are carried some distance by a strong breeze, helping spread the colony in a harsh environment. Although very cold-hardy, larches need full sunlight to thrive and they cannot tolerate extreme drought. Interestingly, seedlings develop special evergreen needles that stay on for a year or more, helping the young trees to survive, just the opposite from the mature trees being hardier by losing needles.
You generally have to work, or at least drive a long distance, to see subalpine larches, and where they are easily accessible, don’t expect to be oo-ing and aw-ing alone. Word is out, but “gold season” is brief. Although it varies with location, the show starts and ends at any one place in two to three weeks. Famous locations for the “gold season” include Maple and Heather Passes near Rainy Pass, Easy Pass, Cutthroat Pass, Blue Lake, and the Sawtooth Mountains north of Lake Chelan. Other places are harder to access, including higher mountains in the Pasayten Wilderness and the Chiwaukum Mountains (distance), and the Wenatchee Mountains near Leavenworth (permits). There are other locations as well. Almost any rocky area on east-side mountains between 6000 and 8000 feet north of Stevens Pass will “go gold” in early autumn.
If you want to receive a gift in the right season, there is indeed gold in the hills. Go get some!
