“I only run if I’m being chased,” my friend Sean famously says whenever I talk about running. 

I love running and ever since I can remember, I have loved running.

On the playground, affectionately called the fir grove, where the trees would touch the sky and create shadows to dance with, we would play “boys and chase girls.”  I liked to test my speed and strength with how I could outrun the boys and wiggle out of their locked arms. 

Every Saturday during soccer games in the fall. We were the Vista Blues and my dad was my coach. I loved the feeling of crisp air burning my lungs and the promise of orange slices and doughnuts after the game. 

Doing the mile run in elementary school. We would run four laps around a red dirt track. I would be out in front trying to beat my time from the previous year. I felt exhilarated when I was done.

In high school, running was still my constant. Even though I had to stay in running shape for soccer and skiing, I chose to do it for myself. While other friends were sleeping off hangovers, I took refuge in running around the Fairmont loop, my feet pounding the pavement. 

Still to this day, every time I go to a new city or town, I lace up my running shoes, head out the door, turn right and see where my feet take me. 

I run to feel alive, increase endorphins and release stress. I often run on a trail right outside my door, which starts at the base of the ski resort. It parallels the river as it climbs three miles in 2,000 vertical feet. The trail is steep and rocky, but I love it for the shade, views, and solitude. 

On this particular day, I was feeling tired after a long day at work, but forced myself out the door and onto the trail. I had one earbud in, so I could distract myself with music and make the effort feel less arduous. I started up the trail, navigating rocks and roots, when my earbud battery died. 

“Shoot,” I thought, “I hate when this happens. But, it is probably good to be more present with my breathing and thoughts.” I put my head down and kept moving along. 

A couple minutes later, I lifted my head to see what lay ahead of me. As I did so, a large, brown figure was ambling over the trail from the river. 

“Oh my god, is that a bear! It is a bear!” I screamed in my head. “What do I do?”

I gingerly started walking backwards, trying not to alarm it. My heart was pounding inside my chest. “Should I keep walking backwards so I can see the bear or should I run like my life depends upon it?” It was a long stretch of trail with a cliff on one side going down to the river and a cliff going up on the other. There was nowhere to go except down and no one to help me if the bear started charging. So, I chose the former, trying to navigate the boulders and tree stumps backwards, all the while, trying to keep quiet, because at this point the bear hadn’t seen me. Images of my body being attacked floated through my mind. What would my family think when they heard the news?  I slowly walked backwards until I could no longer see her, then turned on my heels and just started booking it. I have never run that fast in my life. 

Eventually I saw the end of the trail and the beginning of civilization. My breathing slowed down and my body relaxed. I was happy to be safe on the other side. I was also pissed off that the bear had made me shorten my run. So, what would any person who just narrowly avoided being mauled by a bear do, I kept running.