Ride the Berm

RIDE THE BERM

Growing up in the PNW, it is really hard not to want to get outside. You are surrounded by some of the most stunning natural environments I’ve ever experienced in the world. Ironically, it took moving to Oklahoma to truly understand this. Despite endurance running being a relatively new sport for me, I have, for the better part of my life, been involved in some form of outdoor activities. Outside of the traditional sports of baseball and football that I played, we often found ourselves swimming, wakeboarding, kayaking, camping, hiking, snowboarding, longboarding, or riding bikes in the summer months. In the winter, my older brother and I taught skiing and snowboarding at Alpental over at Snoqualmie Pass for a few years in junior high and high school. We would get back from school on a Friday, take out the back seats in our mom’s van, make our meals for the weekend, drive up with sleeping bags in the back, get a few night runs in before going to sleep, wake up and set up the fencing for the ski school, work during the day, and then ride in the evening until the chair lifts closed on Saturday. Wash, rinse, repeat, and come back Sunday evening. Those were my weekends during the winter season. I have had a lot of my younger core memories or experiences tied to the outdoors in some form or fashion.

One of the reasons I think I enjoy trail running is because of how I grew up. It becomes a therapeutic outlet that allows you to flow through nature in a way that others don’t understand until they experience it themselves. There is nothing quite like snowboarding or skiing when the muscle memory of it becomes second nature. Carving through trees down a route with berms taller than you, feeling how your board cuts the edge into the snow as you control the weight of your body seamlessly to manage how much pressure you’re applying to each foot, using the berms to propel you out of a turn faster than when you went in; you are simply riding with the terrain, enjoying the flow. Much like snowboarding, there is a flow with running when it becomes second nature, especially on the trails. You don’t have to worry about every little thing; your mind shuts off for a moment, and you feel the grip of your shoes each time they hit the ground, the muscles in your legs pushing off, propelling you forward, while you simply breathe, moving forward with each step. You’re moving with the trail.

One of the significant differences I’ve come to realize is the level of physical stress endurance running puts on you compared to any other adventure sport. Long-distance running molds the mind and body as you continue to run. One of the biggest learning curves is listening to your body; in this sport, adaptation comes with consistent time on your feet. Jumping the gun too much too fast can lead to injury. Even running at a manageable pace without a proper warm-up can lead to a setback. When I was in my 20s, I could take off without any warm-up or practice. I could jump into most sports and, as long as it wasn’t a slackline competition, I could at least stay somewhat competitive with the average person without injury. What I have quickly come to realize is that this is not so much the case anymore. When you’re snowboarding through a carved-out trail, you might find yourself riding through berms of all different sizes or a bunch of berms back to back, creating a massive slalom course. You have to make sure you’re riding through them not too fast where you lose control or too slow where you have to unbuckle because you don’t have enough momentum and get stuck. In life, there are berms that force us to shift our weight going into them and recalculate how we are going into it. We have to trust the process and ride the berm in a way where we come out not only faster but set up for whatever comes around the next corner.

In running, it’s this tool or ability to ride the berm—balancing training, physical stress on the body, recovery rate, nutrition, hydration, sleep, etc.—that allows us to not only continue what we are doing but move faster and stronger, better prepared to tackle whatever situation comes next.

As I sit and write this blog post, I’ve been fighting off what I think is a strained ankle and posterior tibial. Last week, I entered a rest and recovery week that was blocked into my training schedule. On Tuesday, I went for a run on our local trails and was only running 4 miles. My legs felt fresh after having done 40-mile weeks for the past three weeks. I was coming off of two days in a row where I hadn’t run, and I just got some running poles to try out. I was ready to go, although in my desire to get out on the trails, I skipped doing any real warm-up. I took off and started running fairly fast, but it felt good. At some point during that run, I ended up tweaking my left leg. I was able to do my 25 miles for the week, but by Saturday of last week, I knew I was going to have to reassess the next week. On my training schedule, I was blocked out to do a 40-50 mile week this week, but I knew that wasn’t going to be possible without making my leg worse. Knowing that if I don’t heal in a way that strengthens my body, I might end up not being able to run at all for a long time, I had to take this week off. I continued to do strength training and got in some indoor rowing and stair steps without aggravating the muscles. In conjunction, I’ve been able to start doing some PT stretches using resistance bands and foam rolling while periodically icing it. Last night, I ran again for the first time at a fairly slow pace for 30 minutes. Thankfully, my leg did not hurt as badly as I thought it would. I was acutely aware of every step during the run.

As this week comes to an end, my planned training schedule for the rest of July is to run 40 miles each week. Knowing what running 3 miles last night felt like, I know I am going to need to continue to slow down through this berm to allow my leg to continue recovering. Throwing my training plan to the wind is not something I am thrilled about; it actually feels as if any momentum in my running fitness is going to dissipate. It’s more the mental challenge of not being able to run that is difficult. Knowing the need to trust the process and ride through the berm stronger and faster than how I entered this injury is going to be crucial while I continue to train for the ultra-marathon.

To successfully ride through this berm, I will be switching up my training schedule for the rest of July. Focusing on five key aspects: firstly, active stretching and recovery of the ankle/posterior tibial. Secondly, continued strength training of the entire body, focusing on strengthening any imbalances. Thirdly, keeping cardio levels up through indoor rowing. Fourthly, using the stair step machine to strengthen and encourage leg mechanics. Finally, weighted walks to keep strengthening mechanics and time on my feet for active recovery. I am hopeful that by adjusting my training, I will not only bounce back but have an even better foundation to continue for the rest of my training cycle leading into the Hare Mountain 100.

Enjoy the flow, trust the process, and ride the berm.
-T