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Colorado Springs runner recalls terrifying encounter with mountain lion

By Lindsey Grewe
For PikesPeakSports.us

According to the Mayan calendar, December 21, 2012, was the day the world was supposed to have ended. For me, it’s the day I nearly got eaten by a mountain lion.

Okay, probably not eaten…the park rangers at Cheyenne Mountain State park said the mountain lion was likely just trying to scare me away. But I’ve got to make myself feel better somehow after surgery and a several-month layoff from running. Otherwise, the story boils down to: “I stupidly decided to jump off trail and run through brush after bumping into a mountain lion, and he decided to taunt me by following after.”

In all seriousness, whether he was going to attack me or just wanted to get me away from him, the incident was the scariest thing I've ever gone through, running or otherwise.

For months afterwards I beat myself up because I never intended to run at Cheyenne Mountain State Park that day. I was on a Spruce Mountain/Greenland kick, and planning a long run up there. But I forgot to take running clothes to work, and I live on the south end of town. Gold Camp Road became my backup, all the way up until it was time to go running. That’s when I abruptly changed my mind and decided on the state park instead.

To make things even more frustrating during my rehab: the route I ended up on that day was one I hadn’t run in weeks. It felt like I had plenty of opportunities to make a choice that would have ended with me safe at home, rather than in the emergency room. I chose wrong each and every time.

But it was what it was. Around 3:30 p.m. that Friday I started my watch and took off from the main parking lot onto the Sundance trail, passing the newly-posted sign warning of a recent mountain lion sighting. Instead of that being an indicator that maybe I should turn around, I vividly remember passing it and actually thinking about messaging a running buddy who was vacationing in Brazil: “Hey Joel…you know how on your runs you get see beautiful people in swimsuits? On my run I get to see mountain lions. Haha, Colorado problems!”

It was a mild day, and the park was packed. I probably passed at least eight other people in those first few minutes of my run, all coming from the direction I was heading in.
For those who aren’t familiar with the state park, Sundance is a 3.3-mile loop. It’s an easy enough path and close enough to the parking lot (compared to other trails in the park) that it’s not unusual to see families with kids hiking on it. Most of it runs in the “prairieland” portion of the park, and is not even close to a backcountry trail.

As a trail runner, I know wild animal sightings are always a possibility, but Sundance is one of the last places I would have expected to bump into a mountain lion.

I made it to the section that runs between Turkey Trot and Talon. I was about seven to 10 minutes into my run, and deep into daydreaming. I passed one more couple coming from the opposite direction and started climbing into the wooded part of the trail.

Not even 45 seconds after passing that couple, I heard a branch crunch beside me. In my peripheral, I could see a flash of tan and assumed it was a deer. I glanced nonchalantly to my left ... and found myself face-to-face with a mountain lion, just a few inches from me. For a moment, my brain went into about 50 different places.

This can’t really be happening, this can’t really be happening.

OMG I’m going to have such a great story, no one ever sees mountain lions in real life!

I’m going to die. OMG how do I get away from it without making it want to chase me?

Why don’t I have a camera?

This can’t really be happening.

Do I need to notify work? Is this even newsworthy? (Disclosure: I work for a TV station)

Luckily, my head cleared and I started going through what I needed to do. I disregarded my first instinct to jump into the brush, knowing right away that was a bad idea because it would get me away from people. My mom and I had thankfully taken photos at a similar mountain lion sighting sign a year earlier, with me acting out what you are supposed to do if you encounter one. It was a joke then, but thanks to that “joke” I remembered what to do.

I raised my arms to make myself look as big as possible and started backing away slowly. I couldn’t remember if you were supposed to make loud noises or not, so I didn’t scream. In hindsight I wish I had; I’m not sure what that couple could have done, but the only thing scarier than getting within inches of a mountain lion is being completely alone when it happens.

For what felt like a few minutes, I kept backing away with my arms raised and the mountain lion stayed where it was, watching me. I started to think I was going to get away, have a good story for a few days and that would be that.

Suddenly, the mountain lion started coming towards me, then got into a crouching position as though it was about to pounce. All reason went out the window; I screamed and lunged into the brush, and started running as fast as I could. You know, the two things no one who encounters an animal should ever do. What I think my reasoning was in my frantic mind was that maybe the brush would obstruct the mountain lion’s path, versus it having a clean shot at me on the trail. But it was a definite “don’t try this at home” kind of moment.

I knew as soon as I started running that it was a huge mistake…not only does running trigger a mountain lion’s instinct to chase, but I now had my back to it, and I’ve always heard mountain lions like to attack their prey from behind. The whole time I ran, I was bracing myself to feel sharp teeth dig into my neck. Between screams for help and desperate prayers, I started sifting through my brain trying to recall how you’re supposed to fight an animal if attacked.

At some point, I stumbled on something, knocking my left kneecap out of place. I was forced to stop, giving me my first chance to look and seeing if the mountain lion was still with me. Sure enough, he had followed me into the brush, and was just few feet from me. I kept running and pushing through scrub despite the pain my knee.

The mountain lion stayed behind me, a few feet away as I ran deeper and deeper into the center of the Sundance loop. A growing sense of dread came over me. I had gone off trail, was nowhere near anyone who could help me, the mountain lion was still after me. It was surreal. Maybe the mountain lion was just trying to scare me off — in hindsight, probably, since it never actually caught me and certainly could have if it wanted. I was hobbling prey by this point. But during the actual situation, with a mountain lion seemingly in pursuit and no help in sight, I was growing certain I was about to die.

I finally reached a ravine. Desparate to get away, I considered jumping into it, hoping that would finally make the mountain lion turn around. But just before I exponentially increased the stupidity factor of the last several minutes, I heard something.

Someone yelling.

I clawed through one final tangled web of shrub and stumbled into a clearing where I saw two park rangers. They had been tipped off by another runner about 30 minutes earlier that there was a mountain lion in the area, and in what felt like an answer to my prayers, had decided to cut through the loop to look for it. While hiking, they heard me screaming.

I began crying with relief. The mountain lion left.

For the past year, I’ve dealt with the fallout from my random encounter that day. I ended up in the emergency room with what doctors initially thought was a sprained knee, but turned out to be a more serious injury that required arthroscopic surgery and months of rehab.

I traded trails for the pool, water running 60-90 minutes every day for months in an attempt to keep my fitness. It was four months before I was allowed to start actual running again, six months before I was allowed to start building my mileage again.

There were plenty of moments early on when I felt sorry for myself: I was frustrated at getting injured in such a random way, losing the benefits of all the hard training I was doing before the accident. I was terrified at never being the same.

I ran in high school and college, then continued racing post-collegiately, so I had grown used to running at a high level for a long time. It was jarring at first, having to stop running completely, then having to rebuild. Friends and family had to remind me constantly in those early weeks that my incident could have been so much worse.

The hardest part in the last year has been getting over the emotional scars from the incident. I had no idea how affected I was by what had happened until I was allowed to run again. Any bunny or squirrel that rustled around in the bushes sent me sprinting away screaming. I would panic hearing fellow runners pounding on the trails. It took a couple of months before I could venture more than a quarter-mile from a parking lot. For a couple of months, an activity I used to feel so safe doing felt like a death trap.

But I have finally conquered my fear of the uncontrollable. I’m still wary on certain trails, and will turn around if I get an uncomfortable feeling. I also never run on trails too close to dawn or dusk. I try to take whatever preventative measures I can to avoid another encounter. But the reality is, if you run on trails, you’re on the animal’s turf. There isn’t a whole lot you can do to prevent seeing a wild animal, and there’s no way to predict their actions.

Thousands of people go a lifetime without ever encountering a predatory animal while running. Though I can’t say it won't happen again, encounters like the one I had are rare. Trail running is like driving in that aspect … accidents can happen, but you can’t live your life scared of them. Just run.
So run I do. I’m back on most of my normal trails, allowing myself to enjoy the best parts of being a runner in Colorado. With every run, I feel more and more like myself again.

Mountain lions are majestic creatures, but hopefully our paths never cross again.