My Turn on The Trail

An off-the-radar trail follows the contours of the St. Joe River near my home. The trail loops through the woods and over some high and low banks of the river. It’s a secluded path that forks away from the paved and much more refined River Greenway, which connects the city’s parks. I regularly use what I now refer to as “my” trail to run, away from most of the crowds on the main pathway.

I love the adventure of trail running — a new log to hurdle or a leaning branch to duck under makes it more exciting. You need to pay attention and problem solve the whole way, so you don’t trip over a rock or miss a turn. It’s a constant look down at your feet and then look out 10 feet in front of you. It’s not only the physical act of running but training in concentration. Although I’m never more than a few miles from my home, with the woods and the river, it feels like I’m secluded, alone. Just me, my thoughts, and nature.

Without Recognition

For the past five years, the path was maintained by someone — a mysterious soul I’ve never seen. I always imagined a weathered, gray-haired hippie runner who became the self-appointed trail caretaker two decades ago (Maybe he has a sweet name like, Yon), cleaning out brush and removing scattered debris. It’s a pretty dense wooded area, and after any storm, there is inevitable extra brush and fallen trees that will block the path. Sure, I’ve picked up a fallen branch or moved a log out of the way now and again, but overall, I’ve enjoyed the trail without having to do the work of clearing the impassable areas. My invisible friend, Yon has been keeping things mostly tidy.

Recently, the maintenance stopped. Maybe Yon moved away, doesn’t hike or run anymore, or decided he no longer wanted to continue with the cleanup. After the brush continued to pile across the trail, I realized that all this time, I’ve only been a ‘taker’ on the trail, using it whenever I wanted while someone else took care of it. Without the regular maintenance, the brush has moved in, and debris has piled up to the point that some areas are impassable. I can still weasel my way under, through, or over obstacles to get in a decent run, but it takes away from the experience; my trail run has turned into more an obstacle course.

Due to the condition of the path without maintenance, fewer people can discover this scenic run along the river. It doesn’t look like an inviting trailhead. Instead, the entrance to the trail has been hidden and can only be seen by looking down at some of the matted down grass that shapes the path. Most would never be able to see this, never be able to nurture that curiosity of, “What’s that over there? Let’s give this a try.”

My Turn

I continued to run the trail, waiting for someone, a ‘someone else’ to take charge, for someone else to do the work, for someone else to start cleaning things up. But I waited, and waited, and nothing. I just want to run. It used to be so nice. So now what?…

I’m stepping in. There’s no official title, and no one asked me to do this; I’m just going to take care of the trail.

In a world that is often afraid to step off the paved path, I’m not waiting for anyone else to make the first move. The trail is important to me. I want a curious family to go out on an adventure, find a new fishing spot along the river, get a little dirty, or climb a tree. I want other runners to enjoy the trail as much as I have, and with fallen trees covering the entrance, no new people are going to be able to enjoy this adventure, unless someone starts to pick up, chainsaw away and keep the path alive.

Yes, I could simply take the easy way out and leave it alone, but in this water-rich environment with regular flooding, the trail could completely disappear in a year. I can’t let that happen.

I will become that mysterious soul who cares for the trail.

Step Up

In life and in business, you can’t wait for permission to step up. If I waited for someone else, the trail might never get cleaned. The trail might disappear.

No one will know who is taking care of this. There is no thanks, no accolades, no pay. It’s just a job that needs to be done. I’m doing the work for my own runs, but also for all those people; I will never meet who get to go adventuring off the paved path.

The world is full of needs that don’t fit neatly in specific job titles. In some cases, you’ll need to be the one to meet those needs, even when you aren’t recognized. By stepping up and taking your turn on the trail, you’ll make it better for everyone. You don’t need permission; stop waiting, Get Doing.