I Never Thought I’d Become a Trail Runner. Here’s What Changed My Mind
I never thought I could be a trail runner until I met one while waiting for the helicopter at the Mount Shark helipad. I was heading to Assiniboine for a backpacking trip, and she was preparing to climb Mount Assiniboine herself. When I admitted to her that trail running felt far beyond my abilities, she asked me two simple questions: “Can you hike? Can you run 10 kilometres?”
When I said yes to both, she smiled and replied, “Then you can trail run.”
That was it. No lecture about VO₂ max, no checklist of mandatory ultralightweight gear and electrolytes, no intimidating talk of 100-mile races, just a quiet reframing of what I thought the sport required.
Trail running, I would soon learn, isn’t reserved solely for mountain goats or ultramarathoners who shave their eyebrows for extra speed. The run still counts even if you aren’t decked out in Arc’teryx or on Strava (spoiler alert: I’m not).
It’s simply running—slower, softer and often more joyful than I could have imagined—on dirt, rocks and roots instead of pavement. It’s about giving myself permission to walk the hills (and I do—something I rarely allow myself while road running), to pause for views and to trade pace for presence. The terrain and speed may be uneven, but the barrier to entry isn’t nearly as high as I once imagined.
Before trail running entered my life, I was the hiker who watched trail runners from afar with awe. I had always been a strong hiker, having grown up in the mountains of Nepal and British Columbia, where family vacations meant weeklong treks through the Himalayas or backcountry camping at Lake O’Hara. Still, running those same trails felt like something reserved for other people.
It took several years after that conversation at Mount Shark for me to finally try trail running. At the time, I was training for my first (and ultimately last) road marathon, wondering why I was logging endless kilometres on paved city paths instead of pursuing that distance in the wild places I loved. Even if I moved slower, even if I missed a few training goals, the pull of the mountains was just too strong to resist.
In the spring of 2023, at 38-years-old, I completed my first trail run, and it happened on snow.
In Calgary where I live, winter lingers well into spring, and I had already been winter hiking with my young son bundled on my back. After all, if I could carry a toddler up Prairie View Trail in Kananaskis Country, surely I could manage to run it too.
It was April when I set out, choosing to tackle the loop clockwise via Jewel Pass, opting for the longer, gradual climb rather than the steep switchback road leading to the same rocky viewpoint above Barrier Lake. The trail began gently, skirting the lake before winding deeper into the forest alongside a rushing creek and past a small waterfall.
Almost immediately, I struggled. I was running far slower than I was used to and felt frustrated at how quickly even modest hills left me breathless. Trail running, it turned out, was an entirely different beast from road running. Eventually, I settled into a rhythm and accepted an important truth: I wasn’t going to run the whole time, and that was my first (slow) step towards realizing that is okay.
At the lookout, I paused to catch my breath and take in sweeping views of Barrier Lake and snow-dusted Mount Baldy. Then came the descent.
The road down was snow-packed, smoothing over the usual trail obstacles of roots and rocks, and suddenly, I was flying. My lungs burned in the crisp air, my heart pounding in steady rhythm with my feet as I covered the final kilometres faster than I thought possible.
I felt invincible. I felt free.
And that feeling has stayed with me ever since.
How to Start Trail Running
My Favourite Trail Runs Near Calgary
Smutwood Peak
Distance: 18 kilometres
Elevation Gain: 960 metres
Difficulty: Hard if you choose to scramble the peak, otherwise easy
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In Kananaskis Country, a long, gradual climb along Commonwealth Creek, passing a scenic waterfall, leads to a steep scramble up a loose ridgeline with jaw-dropping views of Birdwood Lakes and Mount Smuts. This section can be skipped without missing out on the views. If the climb doesn’t feel comfortable, take a break in the meadow by the lakes and save your energy for the second half of the run.
Aylmer Lookout
Distance: 23.5 kilometres
Elevation Gain: 1,100 metres
Difficulty: Moderate
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An excellent early-season objective, this route begins gently, tracing the turquoise shoreline of Lake Minnewanka in Banff National Park for eight kilometres before reaching the Aylmer Pass Campground junction. Here, the character of the trail shifts as it swings sharply left and begins to climb. A series of steady switchbacks winds uphill for several kilometres to a second junction. Turn right and continue for another kilometre, where the forest suddenly opens to reveal a sweeping viewpoint over Lake Minnewanka and the surrounding peaks, a rewarding payoff for the effort.
Skoki Loop Trail
Distance: 39.9 kilometres (can be shortened)
Elevation Gain: 1,500 metres
Difficulty: Moderate
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Endure the first four kilometres of this trail—a winding dirt road that climbs relentlessly—and you’ll be rewarded with a classic alpine landscape of shimmering lakes (so many lakes!), rolling mountains and wildflower-filled meadows (with golden larches stealing the show in fall). The route can easily be shortened to match your time or fitness, but don’t miss the worthwhile one-kilometre detour to Hidden Lake.
Be sure to also pause at the historic Skoki Lodge for a well-earned coffee (or perhaps a celebratory beer) before continuing. Runners looking for an added challenge can tackle Skoki Mountain, an approachable non-technical summit objective offering sweeping views over the valley and the Skoki Lakes. Along the way, countless alpine lakes provide the perfect excuse to cool off and break up the run with a refreshing polar dip.
Iceline Trail
Distance: 21 kilometres
Elevation Gain: 1,044 metres
Difficulty: Moderate
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This hike begins spectacularly, passing Canada’s second-tallest waterfall, Takakkaw Falls, before climbing through forested switchbacks and emerging onto a stunning moraine with up-close views of tumbling glaciers and emerald tarns. The trail then returns to the trees, passing a serene meadow that’s home to the Stanley Mitchell Heritage Hut (bookable through the Alpine Club of Canada), before descending to Laughing Falls. From there, the trail gradually eases back to the parking lot. For runners looking to add distance, Kiwetinok Lake makes for a worthy detour at a junction near the hut.
Egypt Lakes
Distance: 26.9 kilometres (can be shortened by just running to Healy Pass)
Elevation Gain: 1,400 metres
Grade: Moderate
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Shorten the distance with a quick ride up the Sunshine Village gondola before setting out on the stunning trail to Healy Pass and onward to the azure waters of Egypt Lakes—a series of alpine lakes tucked between rugged mountain peaks. Pharoah Peak makes a worthwhile addition if you don’t mind scrambling up loose rock for a bird’s-eye view of the entire lake basin.
Healy Pass is a destination in its own right and is best experienced at the height of wildflower season or when the larches turn gold.
