My heart thuds in my chest and raindrops blur my vision as I kick mud up my legs with every painful step. It is day nine of continuous summer rain in southeast Alaska. Wispy fog looms between the pines, and the smell of skunk cabbage clears my senses. I have always wondered what motivates people to run; I guess I am starting to learn.
One of the favorite parts of my lifestyle in Alaska is living in tune with the seasons. The winter months are spent snowboarding during the six hours of daylight, followed by long nights filled with good food, snowy bonfires or board games with friends — and lots of sleep.
As spring arrives and brings up to 18 hours of daylight, we start embarking on what we lovingly call “epics.” An epic is an adventure that blurs the line between fun and suffering.
This could mean someone forgot to pack the snacks, you got lost and are now cliffed out on the side of a mountain, or the hike out takes twice as long because you are bushwhacking through stinging nettle and devil’s club that’s taller than you are. At the end of the day, as long as everyone gets spit out of the bushes, it is considered a good time.
When the snow melts, and summer begins, I prioritize making money to offset the sad wages I make as a ski patroller in the winter. And finally, fall in Juneau, is the time to pack your bags and take a sunny vacation.
This summer I am working three jobs. My days are packed to the brim with remote work in conservation, writing and pouring beers at night. One of my biggest professional flaws is procrastinating. Don’t get me wrong, I always complete the task, but sometimes it just takes several meltdowns and a kick in the butt, to do so.
With my workload feeling a bit overwhelming this summer, I decided that I was going to put an end to this habit. I started by creating a routine and planning out my day, hour by hour. This helped, but my mind wandered to the swaying of the trees, the sun reflecting soft violet off the blossoming fireweed and even the rain tapping on my window. I needed to fit in time to get my adrenaline dosage.
An epic was definitely out of the question, even a hike took too much of my precious time, a walk or yoga didn’t administer the punch of adrenaline I was yearning for, and as a novice mountain biker, I am scared about hitting the trails alone.
I always thought entering the running era of life was symbolic of a midlife crisis, but if the running shoe fits, lace it up and hit the road.
I set out for my first run of adulthood. A casual mile around the block. It felt like the concrete was hammering on my bones, my side ached the whole way and my calves screamed at me. I started to doubt that I would be adding running to my repertoire of sports.
I wake up the next morning and the thought of another fully packed, hour-by-hour workday melts my brain. My first meeting starts in an hour, I need to shake this feeling. My running shoes look at me from the dirty corner I angrily kicked them into the night prior. Without much thought, I throw them on and set out into the rain.
We live in the Tongass National Forest. From our house, I cut through an overgrown trail forged by neighbors’ feet onto the main trail. I dodge puddles, roots and bear poop, as my dog, Mac, tries to keep up with me (he’s trying to learn to like running too).
Shades of green seep into my soul, cleansing my eyes of the hours of blue light emission pouring out of my computer. The dirt is much softer on my bones compared to the concrete, and the solitude of the rainforest quiets my mind.
One mile turns to 2, and 2 miles leads me to a waterfall pouring into a glacial lake. The trail opens up into a sandy beach and eagles soar through the mist of the waterfall. I slow my run into a walk and feel it — the burst of adrenaline I have been missing.
I am learning to enjoy running. It is different from all the other sports I do, and when I drop expectations of the adrenaline that comes with an epic, and accept running for what it is, I like it. I appreciate that I can fit it into a tight schedule, I feel accomplished afterward and it boosts my mood.
Maybe this is a new form of procrastination, or at least that is how it starts out, but afterward, my mind is fresh and I can sit down and focus. As a mentor once told me, get outside and take energy from the Earth, then go put that energy into work that is for the Earth.
CDN outdoors columnist Kayla Heidenreich writes monthly, of late from Juneau and beyond. Reach her at heidenreichmk@gmail.com.
