As I write this, I’m in Montana. I’ve come to visit my good friend Pat Cook. It is here, on a remote homestead, 30 minutes outside of Missoula, that I find him. The homestead is nestled in a quiet clearing. It is peaceful and rustic, reminding me a lot of the off-grid cabin that I used to live in in Colorado.
I step out of my bus and walk toward the cabin. As we make our way to the door, Pat points out a small garden, the outhouse, and an outdoor sink. Clearly this is a place of old. We go inside, where the vibe is the same. The one-room cabin is quaint and simple. A small wood stove sits in the center, an antique bunk bed flanks one wall, a small kitchen the other.
On the far end of the room sits a set of furniture. It looks old. I take a seat on the couch. It feels the part, like something you’d find at your grandparents’ cottage. I bet if you cut it open you’d find a bunch of metal springs. I love old things, so the cabin makes me feel right at home. There was a time in my life when living in a place like this was kind of the dream. Nowadays, I’m less certain of that, but here in this tiny cabin my heartstrings are pulled yet again.
There is something about this old, simple way of life that makes me feel at peace. I suppose it feels like a sanctuary, a place protected from the stresses of the modern world. It gets me thinking. What is it in humans that creates this feeling? Why is it that as we forge ahead, we long for the ways of old? Specifically, my mind drifts to the world of running.
The Pace of Change
I’ve been running races since elementary school, and running ultramarathons for about 11 years. In some ways, the sport is the same as when I fell in love with it in my youth. In other ways, it has changed significantly. When I first got into the sport of ultrarunning, I had a dumb phone, virtually zero social media (save for Facebook), and races were covered primarily by iRunFar’s state of the art Twitter feed.
But, if you were to break it into eras of development, I was far from the pioneer days. There were many who came before me, and there have been many to come after me. As things continue to advance, sometimes it’s easy to walk into that one-room cabin, take a seat on the couch, and long for the days of old. I think it’s natural to feel that way, because we have fond memories of times gone by and we want to experience those things again.
And yet, it’s important to remember that we ought not get stuck in the past. To remember that yesterday was good is fine, but to insist that tomorrow must not change is dangerous. No matter how good the past might have been, I like to think that there is always room for the future to be even better.
As my night at Pat’s cabin wound down, we fiddled with an old record player as he was trying to connect to a set of speakers. He had bought some new hardware in town to try to make the thing work, and after a bit of tinkering, we heard the soothing sounds of “The Tallest Man on Earth” come alive.
Like many instances of melding old with new, the process wasn’t flawless. The volume control failed to work, but with song emerging from the speakers, we called it good for the time being and moved on. Tomorrow would be another day, and a chance to fine tune.
While the budding sport of trail running continues to advance, I hope that we can blaze a way forward that honors the past and embraces the future. I think there are good things to be had on each side, like both the quiet homestead and the bustling city.
Call for Comments
- What do you think has changed most about the sport of trail running since you started out?
- Are there some changes that you think have been for the better?
- What parts of the past do you intend to carry forward to the sport’s future?