I was listening to a podcast while running on Saturday, the topic: running, of course. The interview was with Jennifer Farr Davis about her FKT on the Appalachian Trail. During the conversation, she raised an intriguing question: Would you continue pursuing your passion even if you couldn't share it with anyone? Without much thought, I answered yes. I love running in the mountains. There are so many things about it that I am drawn to. Showing off my accomplishments isn't why I run. If I didn't own a business that required me to share so much, I probably wouldn't at all.
Every trail run is an exciting journey filled with both mental and physical challenges. The weekend before, I was 28 miles into a run in scorching 90-degree heat, navigating through a desert area near Smith Rock. The landscape was barren, with dried-up and charred trees from both the heat and past fires surrounding me. As I pushed forward, uncertain of whether I was 1 mile or 2 away from camp, my sole focus was on reaching the end of my run. Suddenly, a coyote crossed the road just 15 feet ahead of me, for a moment my mind forgot about the misery and I excitedly added 'coyote' to the list of animals I had seen on my run that day.
Outside of the adventure, running makes me feel powerful and brave. I watch myself push through fears and unknowns and come out the other side. I have accomplished things I didn't think I was capable of through running. Learning lessons I can take into my day-to-day life.
While I confirmed to myself I would run even if I couldn't share my successes with anyone, I looked up from the rocky terrain to see a mountain lion. Not a mountain goat like I had been hoping for, but a cougar with her kitten (her kitten which was the same size as her). I'd never felt fear hit me as quickly as it did at that moment. There was fear, but there was something else too, there was a moment of "are you kidding me?" I had been worried about this incident happening the past couple of weeks. After years of running fearlessly in the mountains, I suddenly developed a fear of spotting a lion in the wilderness. Here she was.
I paused my podcast and reminded myself the first rule was not to run from her. I can tell you the first thing you want to do is run. She got low in pouce position and stalked slowly toward me, a deep growl in her throat. I had rehearsed this moment. Just before the run I put my pepper spray in my pack and made sure I could reach it. I reached my arm around to grab it with one hand and with the other hand I put my whistle in my mouth. I blew as hard as I could. Be loud, ringing in my head. My lungs felt deflated, so I took a deep breath and blew again. The second whistle caused her to stop coming toward me. She had magnificent black eyes and her coat appeared puffed up and soft. She stared into me and I stared back.
As I reached for my phone, the thought came to me, "What if I die here? Nora loses both her parents in less than 12 months?" Even if I wanted to, I couldn't call anyone. I had no service. Also, in the panic, I attempted the wrong password and my phone displayed that I was locked out for 5 minutes. This meant no photo either (not that I would have really taken the time in the middle of panicking to take a photo). She wasn't leaving and I was running out of ideas. I blew the whistle again, one final blow, I thought. She looked around and then turned and trotted down the trail, away from me. I waited, watching her run away before I too turned around and ran away.
People worry that running alone on the trail isn't safe. I have been nearly hit by drivers texting on their phones, not paying attention more often than my life has been threatened by wildlife on the trails.
As I left the cougar citing, aside from relief, I felt proud of myself. That was a highly stressful situation and I handled it well. More importantly, I knew how to handle it. Things could have been different had she been hungry and hunting. She was just as surprised to see me as I was to see her.
I don't know that I would have handled that as well even a year ago, let alone five years ago. One by one, running is teaching me lessons, and it is helping me grow into a stronger, more capable human. I don't much care for running faster anymore, I am out there to see what running will teach me and where it will take me.
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