Ban the Trail Tweets

You may understand a few things about my personality at this point; particularly the idea that I have my own personal set of rules and I expect no one else in the world to even understand them, let alone follow suit. My rules are elementary (to me), yet to others they seem full of antitheses. If you take the time to scrutinize more closely, you’ll find my general rule of life be quite simplistic: Savor every moment.

That’s why I’m a trail runner.

And yes, savoring life can have different pictures within the same frame: I love the fitness involved within the art of running, but I’d like my aide stations to be filled with M&M’s and my finish line to feature pulled pork sandwiches. I love morning runs, but I’d prefer them to start MID-morning. I love to start off a race with a group of new-found friends and my all-time very favorite runner in the world, then end up on my own in the middle of the wilderness. I use the road for running when I need to think something through completely…the trail is for thinking about nothing but the intensity of the moment. And I love to blog, but I have little use for social media.

Trail running invites you to become a minimalist, to focus, to test your personal limits in ways you never dreamed of before, and to truly, deeply understand that there is no room on the trail for worrying that you may lose both your dignity and your pride, especially if you showed up at the start line with too much to begin with.

And that kind of place, compadres, has no room for Tweets or Instagramming while en route.

I understand that you have friends back home who are waiting to hear how your run went. That you love to post new, fun things on your Facebook page….that you have a bazillion followers who are waiting for a hashtag to appear on their screens…

Save it for another time. Save it for the bar later that evening or better yet, for the next day, when I (and other trail running purists) am far, far away.

Admittedly, asking that you take a break from your Tweets is self-serving on my part. I’m in the woods, I’m in the moment. I don’t want to think about technology in any way shape or form, with the exception of the technology behind the treads on my zero drop Inov8’s. In my opinion, the trail is just not the place for it. To put it mildly.

However, the bonus for you, if you are able to tear yourself away from your uploadable features (at least while you are hanging around the finish line with a beer and a burger and a whole slew of people who love the experience just as much as you do), is that you will be lucky enough to remember exactly what it means to just “be.”

Remembering to just “be” is to experience life as a kid again, where worries are simply ideas thrown out there by songs on the radio and stress is something you only experience through the movies. As soon as you bring your smartphone out and start posting cute little sayings on your wall for the whole world to see, the moment of just “being” is abruptly slammed shut and both you and the trail runners around you are prematurely forced back into reality.

So instead of worrying about your 987 “Friends” on Facebook, think about your friends on the trail, the moment, and the idea of savoring this beautiful life you’ve been gifted with.

Finish Line Pulled Pork

1 tsp vegetable oil
4 lb pork shoulder roast
1 1/2 cups barbecue sauce
1/2 cup Dr. Pepper
1 TBL Worcestershire Sauce
1 tsp cajun seasoning
8 burger buns

Toss it all in a crock pot, cook it on high for about 5 hours (until the pork shreds easily with two forks). Add a little water during cooking if it looks like it’s dry. But not much. Maybe 1/2 cup. When time’s up, shred the pork and serve it on the buns.


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