Running along the contours of the Lost Valley Trail, feet flying over the rocks, I felt more like a ballet dancer more than a runner. Not particularly graceful in my everyday life, I nevertheless feel like I am performing Swan Lake, pirouetting from root to rock.
It may be called running, but trailrunning really bears little resemblance to road running, or maybe I should qualify my definition of trailrunning. Paved paths through the woods is not trail running. Double track gravel is not trail running. Green ways through urban developments, what I call "urban trails", are great, but still not trail running. The trails we run are rooted, rocky, undulating, ankle-turning ribbons of packed dirt, hemmed in by trees or clinging to the sides of bluffs. You leap, skip, and jump sometimes more than "run". Special shoes required. Ballet shoes. For trails.