10.9.20 // trail runner?

A few weeks ago I was DM'd a question that stopped me in my tracks.
.
"Has anyone ever asked you how you became a trail runner?"
.
I thought to myself, "wait, what? me? trail runner? no no no. I'm flattered, but I'm not a trail runner. Pshhh no way. Not me."
.
It's funny because I've had this conversation with friends a lot over the past few months.
.
What defines a trail runner? Is it merely someone who runs occasionally on a trail or is it someone who laughs at anything under 10 miles and relishes those moments spent in high alpine scree?
.
The conclusion of these conversations was that the definition of a trail runner lands with each individual and is most directly impacted by the people who surround them.
.
Well, for me and for the last 10 years, I've been surrounded by the latter trail runners I described above. The trail runners who live and love those sufferfest days. The runners who storm uphill faster than thunder but can rain downhill faster than lightning.
.
And maybe one day my world won't be filled with insane athletic competitors, but I can't see that happening anytime soon because, above all, I love the mental capacity of these athletes. That robust desire to challenge, understand, and suffer is one I'm very familiar with and I think that's why I'm lucky to call a lot of them friends.
.
To be fair, I've dabbled in trail running. But "running" itself has never come easily to me. My body doesn't naturally fall into running. It is a battle. Maybe it's the metal rods in my back, maybe it's my thigh heavy figure, it's just not easy for me.
.
However, I do find myself on trails often and sometimes I do run.
.
But the definition is one I'll never truly feel comfortable calling myself. At least not until running becomes less painful and more pleasurable on a regular basis. We all have our good days, but those good runs certainly don't outweigh my "oh my god, why the hell am I running" days.