This article was originally published on Trail Runner.
The 50K training program during quarantine at the beginning of the pandemic gave me much needed structure in my life. Although the race was ultimately canceled, I ran the 50k over Snoqualmie Pass in downtown Washington with two of my closest friends. It was a perfect collision of place, people and purpose.
However, the career that followed was more of a slow burn of injury and boredom. The persistent pain kept me from training again, and without any new tangible goals, I slipped into the aimless abyss of post-race blues.
No one is forcing me to do this sport. But day after day, I choose to enter the cave of lung-burning, quadriceps-burning, heart-pounding pain. Why does my heart beat fast after spending a few hours each day (the more mountains the better)? And why did I feel so disarmed in his absence?
In this uncertain space I discovered carpentry.
Growing up, I watched Phil, a family friend and experienced carpenter, give wood fine curves, clean lines, and strong shapes. I've always wondered how square pieces of wood could be rounded and envied the skinny hands that heralded days in the carpenter's shop. I really wanted to find something to relieve my post-race anxiety and Phil was kind enough to hire me as an apprentice.
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carpentry
I became interested in woodworking in a way I didn't know before. Amidst the faint cedar smell of the woodshed, my arms strained under the weight of the heavy logs, my arms struggled to stifle Jigsaw's roar, and my fingers were split, rough, and weak.
The work was challenging and humbling, but fun at the same time, like solving crossword puzzle tasks along with a spatial puzzle task. Unlike the abstract cerebral work my liberal arts education required, woodworking was refreshingly concrete. I enjoyed the reality of it.
I learned that working with wood is a spiritual, physical and beneficial activity. The materials are simple, but the creative possibilities are endless. Phil and I spent a week building the intricately shaped barn door, a day assembling the shelves, days preparing mass-cut trees for the wooden frame, and weeks building the sauna.
The successes and failures of woodworking are tangible and undeniable. Keep shelves or not; to store or not. I once cut some wooden beams to the wrong length, which is not a mistake that can be fixed or hidden. A similar error required starting from scratch or adapting the project to existing materials. There were days when I felt like I was just walking backwards. But I continued to introduce myself.
Woodworking placed me in a tactile world that required interaction with the textures and shapes around me. My hands studied the shapes of the handles of various tools: the handle of a fine Japanese chisel next to the imprecise weight of a set of table clamps. I began to recognize the wood by its unique pattern and color: a smooth texture of light cherry red with a light reddish color and dense dark walnut tone. Carpentry took me from brain to body; it required me not to think and understand my world abstractly, but to touch and feel it.
Woodworking placed me in a tactile world that required interaction with the textures and shapes around me.
One day, while waiting for the glue to dry, I wandered among the tables and benches scattered across the open floor plan of the woodwork, running my hands along the rough edges of the cedar planks, roughly cutting off the raised corners, and lifting one. a walnut top with a live edge that will soon become a table. This feeling brought me closer to the world around me and thus grounded me.
Did I miss it because I missed races?
CONNECTIONS: You are more than your race
do it again
I was looking forward to getting back to my favorite trails as I slowly started running again. On my first few descents, my feet went over familiar rocks and local trail roots, my quads protesting as I explored my beloved mountains. I liked that I could not only see but also feel the environment in which I was moving. Although I avoid running, I found woodworking to be a suitable substitute that reminded me of running and broadened my understanding of running.
Running is a unique alchemy between breath, muscles, mind and earth. In practice, I played with different components of the race: mileage, pace, terrain, and our ever-dynamic bodies. Some days I did short mountain runs, other days I swam a spiral trail in the mountains around my house. Although the transience of a particular route differed from the permanence of a finished wood project, each route offered the opportunity to create a new experience using existing materials.
That doesn't mean I love all races. There were days when my legs were heavy and my lungs were small and inefficient. I gave up on some descents and hit speed goals that I just couldn't reach. It was several days that I could not cut the beams to the desired length. I felt my strengths and weaknesses in every race and had to adapt.
I enjoy the reality of racing as much as I enjoy the feel of woodworking. Running routes along mountain trails, city streets and river banks, running brings me into harmony with my surroundings and allows me not only to observe my landscapes but also to experience their embodiment.
The sport we practice, the art we practice
Woodworking gave me the opportunity to exercise 3D thinking and creativity. Similarly, running invites me into a dialogue with my surroundings that engages my senses and increases my awareness of the world around me.
Together, carpentry and trade are now in dialogue, informing and enriching each other. Remembering the frustration I felt when I first started woodworking forced me to take a step back and think about why I love trail running, now that I have the knowledge I have discovered, I am truly grateful. In my professional experience, the process of working with wood comes to the fore.
Together, carpentry and manufacturing are now in dialogue, informing and enriching each other.
Recently, I woke up at 6am, had a cup of coffee, put on a few layers of clothes, and then hit the local river trail as the sun came up. As I watched the eddies of the river dangerously close to the fast flowing water, I saw the colors change. Freshly fallen leaves made the road smooth and rough. The wind from the water had a structure similar to the tree itself, and it smelled like piles of wood burning nearby. This wooden boat, this platform, here they were talking among themselves again.
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