Soothe your soul, sweat some sanity into summer

There's a particular satisfaction in being steeped in sweat, soaked in endorphins with legs so weak you're left wondering how they haven't already crumpled like dried seaweed.

It's there - racing down a single-track trail, legs being whipped by overgrown grass, stung by nettles, feet pounding forward like the beat of a bass drum - that I do my best thinking. It's at a trail's highest point or the road's furthest reach that I feel peace.

This may sound crazy. But actually, it's what keeps me sane.

Running by many definitions is not fun. And on occasion, I agree. But there's something about the rhythm of the human stride, whether fast or slow, that soothes the soul.

This summer, in particular, many might need some soul soothing or at least a quick endorphin high.

Because, well, let's face it; it's been one of those "summers."

Anyone who's lived in Southeast more than one season can relate. The calendar reads July, but the weather outside whips back dreary memories of a cold, foreboding October.

Summers like this scream for a little sanity.

Experts say endorphins can come in a variety of forms. The commonly known "runner's high," which is obtained as a result of continuous, moderate physical activity, is not the only way to reap the benefits of this fun little chemical.

Activities that trigger deep relaxation, according to scientists, can also trigger endorphin production. Yoga, acupuncture administered by a professional or just a long tub soak can also release endorphins.

On a gray-soaked day, I headed up Perseverance Basin and onto the Red Mill Trail. This quaint trail, with room for only one, initially winds upward, following the hillside on the south side of Gold Creek, then begins to roll in and out of draws, over streams and eventually ties back into its wider and well-traveled neighbor, the Perseverance Trail.

My mind was heavy with a collage of problems, finances and the guilt that came with leaving my sick two-year-old in the care of my able husband. (I'm a mom, and like all moms, I worry.)

Rain was falling in sheets. Droplets poured off the spruce branches soaking my hair and plastering strands against my cheeks. My shorts clung to my legs like wet paper towels as overhanging grasses, heavy with water, transferred their heft onto me in passing.

Thirty minutes ticked by. Then, an hour. When I reached the intersection of the main trail, I turned right toward the head of the valley. I shoved aside the cold, the damp and pushed into the rain and wind which bore down incessantly now that I was out of the cover of the old growth forest.

When I reached the end of the trail, I stopped. I turned on my heel atop the overlook and took in the vistas down the valley and the simple, but refreshing, view of Gold Creek.

I stood there soaking wet. Flushed with effort, heart galloping inside my chest. But I couldn't have cared less about the sweat or rain, or even the sun (had it been shining) because I found myself - surprisingly - smiling.

That smile stayed down in the valley, sending me leaping over mud puddles and racing the river like a dipper riding the whitecaps. Even striding through my front door, likely looking like a half-drowned cat, I could do nothing but grin. And then, as my toddler rushed to my arms, I took one long, deep breath.

So this weekend, when Saturday morning rolls around and sanity is scarce, head to the base of the Mount Roberts Tram terminal with the rest of the "crazies" and find your own sense of peace as the endorphins pump you up the trail.

Who knows, as you tap the cross at the top, you too just might be smiling.

• Contact Outdoors editor Abby Lowell at abby.lowell@juneauempire.com.