I ran the Barr Trail Mountain Race last weekend and had a great time, but it didn’t start out that way. The race was late getting started and that always throws off my timing, but fortunately it was no big deal.

I headed up the mountain, running and walking. If I come up on someone and it is possible, I pass. I’ve discovered that if I don’t pass, I slow down just a little. I got up to Barr Camp a little slower than I wanted but not too much. I headed down and was hesitant to get going.

I knew what was coming, That Spot.

I wasn’t having much fun on the trail for ¾ miles below the camp because as I approached where I fell training last year I was nervous. Since my basic attitude in life is, if I’m not having fun, I’m doing something wrong, I realized my attitude was the issue.

What came to me was that my attitude towards falling had completely overcome my ability to not fall. As I got to the spot and passed it, I let out a huge yahoo and it felt great. At that moment I had exorcised that demon. I have run that trail dozens of times, fallen a few times, and hurt myself seriously only once. Instead of looking at the negative in the race, I decided to look at the positive.

As I continued down the mountain I let out another whoop, sometimes loudly, and sometimes quietly, at every spot where I knew I had fallen. I was running carefully but I picked up speed as I went down. Still not as fast as I ran a few years ago, but fast enough that no one passed me until Ruxton, and there it was younger legs that I just couldn’t match. 

My place in the age group was not good, my time was considerably slower that I had done in the past, but I had exorcised the demon that was keeping me from running comfortably on the trails. I relaxed, had fun, and ended up having a great race. I asked the question a few postings back about what makes for a good race and in this race it wasn’t about time, or the competition, or placement in the age group, it was about having fun again. I love this race for its beauty, its challenge, and the course. I love having the kids dressed as dinosaurs, elves and Santa, as waiters, or whatever, but mostly I love their smiles and enthusiasm as we go by. 

Several years ago the school where I worked was on the mountain at Bob’s Road. They had gotten a list of competitors and as we ran by would call us by name. As I came up on them they were calling out, “Go Phil, Way to go, Phil, Good work Phil,” and then one realized who I was and called out “Mr. Goulding what are you doing up here?” I loved it. What I was doing was running my legs off, breathing hard, and enjoying every minute. If I could change one thing about the BTMR it would be the competition for the best aid station. It seems to me that the money should be equally shared. I have never had a station that didn’t meet my needs, weren’t enthusiastic and supportive, and gave me a boost as I went by. 

Next on the agenda is the Pikes Peak Ascent. I realize that I can now train full tilt, though there is not enough time to make up for my earlier lack of enthusiasm, I can get to the top and do 3-2-1s with enthusiasm. I can go up and down Barr and not feel like I have to go slowly just to be safe. I may fall again, and probably will but that is part of what being a trail runner is all about. You put yourself to the test every time you hit the trail, and fortunately, rarely fail to come down safely. As I write this, I just realized I take about 20,000 steps per trip to Barr Camp and back, or to the top of the Peak, and I’ve had one bad fall. Not bad for millions of steps up there.