The majority of my running years and miles have been in Colorado and I’ve realized that while everything here can still feel new, I simultaneously find the trails and roads here familiar. It’s an odd contrast, but the sensation of being settled is reinforced when I travel and return. Running here feels natural.
My first years of running were in the town where I grew up, Lynchburg, Virginia. The miles and routes I covered there are my formative ones and I feel a certain kinship with them given how they helped form my running foundation. My parents still live in Lynchburg but when they said they were moving, I decided to go back for a few days to help them prep their house to put it on the market. I also wanted to hit a couple of my old favorite running routes.
I\u2019ve not lived in Virginia for quite some time and it\u2019s interesting to see the area with a different perspective. Many things appear smaller, such as local businesses and other buildings. The massive, yawning ravines in the wooded areas along the roads still look as if they could easily swallow me up if I were to stumble into them. In a running context, the routes I did before feel smaller, yet they still carry the thrill that I felt when I ran them before. The memories of where they\u2019re particularly difficult, or where I had noteworthy triumphant or lousy moments, are vivid. And, when I go along them, in many ways it feels like I’ve never stopped training there.
There were two specific routes I wanted to run: a six miler with some good climbs and an eight miler with ridiculous hills in the middle. Both served as staple training runs and despite the difficulties of each, I enjoyed the challenge and preparation they provided.
At the 2.5-mile point on the six-mile loop, the road crests after a long climb and there was a view there that I always enjoyed of the hills rolling away into the distance. Especially right around or after sunrise, it was pleasant to see. It\u2019s also the point where you hit roughly a mile of downhill and flat and can pick up good speed. As I hit the crest this time, I was greeted with a new, tall thicket of growth that obstructed all of the former view. Instead of rolling hills, it was a scraggly bunch of something. I still had the downhill and flat to look forward to so I forged ahead.
On the eight mile loop, the brutal hills start at mile two and it’s not until mile five that the course levels out for a bit. I always felt a sense of relief when I would make the turn there and that hasn’t changed a bit. The hills are still nasty and that route still pushes me in a way that I both loathe and relish.
Doing the routes again was a healthy reminder of the nature of change, at least of one view, and there was enough of the same from the past that they didn’t feel very different. Though I still can easily run faster at sea level, and though the roads and sidewalks there felt comfortable, when I got back I was reminded of how acclimated I’ve gotten to running in Colorado. I went for a run the day I returned and it felt perfectly natural. Good (likely) farewell miles in Lynchburg, continue to move forward.
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The majority of my running years and miles have been in Colorado and I’ve realized that while everything here can still feel new, I simultaneously find the trails and roads here familiar. It’s an odd contrast, but the sensation of being settled is reinforced when I travel and return. Running here feels natural. My first … <\/p>\n