a summer of trail runs
of sunrises and wildflowers
cool mornings paired with the first touch of pink on the peaks
countless lakes and high alpine swims
mountain passes
good company
and some of my favorite miles I’ve ever run
For two months this summer, every single Sunday run was a trail run above 10,000 feet, between 15 and 26 miles and had an average elevation gain of 3,000 feet. These runs have all been part of my buildup for the Chicago Marathon, a flat, road race at sea level. I didn’t seek out these stats. I just wanted to be deeper in the hills, to see some lakes I’ve dreamt of and embrace the land a little more consciously.
I live in the Eastern Sierra, one of the most epic stretches of Earth I’ve come across. The ease of access to these types of trails is unparalleled, so I made it a priority to take full advantage of that this past season.
In the last three-and-a-half years living and training here, I’ve had some extremely profound experiences spending time deeper in the mountains. My connection to this place has the most beautiful impact on my being. After back-to-back 10-mile runs to Meysan Lake out of Whitney Portal, near Lone Pine, California, back in June, I knew these mountain runs were going to be a crucial component to my fall marathon buildup.
One big run I’ve dreamt of since moving to this area was always on the horizon—a 26.2-mile trail run from Mammoth Lakes, California, to Yosemite National Park. It’s an unsanctioned marathon in the mountains, and in July, we completed it.
These trail runs were, of course, incredible physical training. I knew the big miles on the trail, the sheer exhaustion of ascending the countless switchbacks of mountain passes, the altitude and the hours of movement would prep me well for future marathons. But maybe more importantly, these runs transformed my mind.
They provided hours of calm engagement with the land, mountains, lakes, dirt, wildflowers and others on the trail. These Sunday runs in the mountains became sacred. To find myself deep among the vistas I’ve gazed at for years, surrounded by an expanding world, feeling so grateful for these views and experiences brought a peace and contentedness unlike any other.
How did this all play out in the Chicago Marathon? I ran a personal best time by four minutes. There may be a million other factors, and correlation doesn’t necessarily prove causation, but I believe in these runs and the power of these landscapes. I know they have a positive influence on my being and what I’m capable of.
I keep coming back to a quote by Rebecca Solnit, one of my favorite authors: “Mountaineering is always spoken of as though summiting is conquest, but as you get higher, the world gets bigger, and you feel smaller in proportion to it, overwhelmed and liberated by how much space is around you, how much room to wander, how much unknown.”
When our world expands, what our minds know also expands, which means what we are capable of expands, too. So here’s to the mountains, which I’ll continue to call both home and training ground for years to come, and to creating more moments like these, more moments of profound beauty and the exploration of possibility.
This story first appeared in RANGE Magazine Issue 10, which is dedicated to the idea of progress. Get your hands on a copy HERE.
XX Sarah Attar
