Dark Trails: The Journey Beyond the Finish Line

02 Feb - Kowen Forest

Picture the darkest hour just before dawn, when most people are still happily snoozing and the world is a quiet, moonlit canvas. That’s when I lace up my shoes and step outside, half-awake, mind already spinning with possibilities. I’m not exactly a social butterfly—small talk can still make me stammer—but there’s something about the crisp air and the crunch of dirt and gravel underfoot that flips a switch in my brain. Suddenly, I see answers to questions I didn’t know needed answering. I come up with ideas to design running shirts that won’t cost an arm and a leg. I have random thoughts of supernatural twists for spooky stories, or even how to help someone else find their inner spark. In these moments, I feel like have purpose to keep pushing forward.

And that is, in a nutshell, how Dark Trails was born. On one of these pre-dawn runs—where the forest can seem equal parts tranquil and terrifying—I felt a rush of clarity: I wanted to build something that would help people get through their own tough times. I had my share of dark patches, personal obstacles, and times when I felt like I was running in place while the world sprinted ahead. But I realised that by staying busy, setting goals, and pushing myself physically, I was able to keep my mind from wandering down unhelpful rabbit holes. Keeping that forward momentum was better than letting life’s weight drag me to a standstill.

So, sure, Dark Trails is a running apparel line. But it’s also a way to reach anyone who needs a nudge out the door. My days of running ultra distances have shown me that the biggest transformations often happen when you’re sweaty, tired, and maybe a little delirious at 25, or 35, or 50 kilometres. You start to see who you really are when you’ve run out of excuses to quit. The forest or the trail becomes this metaphorical (and literal) place where you wrestle with your own doubts. Sometimes you win that wrestling match; sometimes you lose. But each time, you walk (or hobble) away with a better understanding of your own strength—and maybe a new appreciation for indoor plumbing….

I’ve finished a few ultras, but I’ve also DNF’d two events. And you know what? Those DNF experiences taught me even more than some of the completions. They reminded me that the line between “I can do this” and “nope, I’m done” is razor-thin, and often just a matter of problem-solving in the moment. Maybe you need more electrolytes because the sun’s boiling your brains. Maybe you went out too fast, fuelled by the “stay hard” adrenaline of David Goggins YouTube videos. Or maybe life just threw a curveball that day. The point is, each race—each training run, even—is a chance to learn.

When I first started dabbling in YouTube, I tried spooky trail running storytelling videos. Why? Because I love that slightly eerie vibe of the forest in the early hours; it feels like something else is out there watching, shadows slinking around just beyond your peripheral vision. To be honest, it was a little rough at first—some of those videos did not go as planned—but they fed my creativity and gave me a platform to say, “Hey, it’s okay to be scared sometimes.” After all, if you can push through those chills in the woods, maybe you can tackle the bigger problems lurking in the corners of your mind, too.

The next experiment was a motivational channel where I ran and talked to the camera about finding your “why.” It blew up a bit—5,000 subscribers is no small feat!—but in the end, it wasn’t quite me. Staring into a lens while running took away from the solitude and introspection I need from a run. So, I pivoted that channel into an ambience project, layering in supernatural elements, forest sounds, haunting wind gusts, and subtle chants that might make you do a double-take at 2 a.m. It felt more honest to what I wanted: a space for others to find a certain calm—and maybe a hint of goosebumps—without me mugging for the camera.

Through all these experiments, the core idea remained: Dark Trails can be a symbol for anyone who’s ready to face their own challenges. Maybe you’re not a runner. That’s cool. The “dark trails” we face could be anything from building a business to healing from a heartbreak. For me, it’s also about gear that doesn’t empty your bank account. One of the biggest annoyances I felt when I started running was that the gear was so expensive. I’m not talking about specialised equipment like a good headlamp or cushioned shoes—those, I get—but a simple moisture-wicking shirt for a hundred bucks? That rubbed me the wrong way. I wanted to make apparel that lets you tackle your sweat-soaked, mud-splattered journey without feeling guilty for spending half your paycheck on a single piece of clothing.

My dream, if I could snap my fingers right now, would be to move from print-on-demand to a dedicated supplier who can produce reliable gear at a lower cost—so I can pass those savings on to the people who need it. I don’t see the point in high-fashion running apparel. It’s going to get caked in salt from your sweat, probably snag on a tree branch or two, and definitely smell funky if you leave it in your gym bag too long. And that’s perfect. Because it means you’re using it, not saving it for some fancy Instagram shot.

I also dream of a community that rallies around the idea that we’re stronger when we share our experiences. We don’t all have to be super chatty or extroverted—trust me, I get the social awkwardness. But I want to create a corner of the internet where people can swap stories about that one run where everything fell apart at mile 20, or that time you overcame a huge mental hurdle in your personal life by pounding the pavement. My own background is in Military and IT, and this entire venture has me learning marketing, sales, and a whole slew of new skills on the fly. It’s not always easy. In fact, it’s downright stressful. But each time I feel like I’m drowning in paperwork or logistics, I go for a run, reset my brain, and remember why I’m doing this in the first place.

So, consider this blog your open invitation: maybe you’ve never run farther than the car to the grocery store while it’s a bit moist outside, or maybe you’re an ultra-veteran with a closet full of belt buckle. Either way, your story matters. We all have our own “dark trails” to tackle—a new job, a new relationship, a health concern, or even just the creeping dread that’s been following us around since who-knows-when. I hope Dark Trails becomes a place where we can talk about it, learn from each other, and keep each other moving forward.

Feel free to share your own journeys in the comments below. Let me know what’s challenging you, what you’ve learned, or what weird forest creature you swear you saw on a foggy morning run. If there’s enough interest, maybe I’ll start a Discord or a subreddit so we can keep the conversation going. For now, though, I’m just glad you’re here, reading these words. Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned from ultra running, it’s that we’re never as alone as we think—even in the darkest parts of the trail. The real magic happens when someone looks over and says, “Hey, I’ve been there, too,” and suddenly, the night feels a whole lot less scary.

Here’s to the road ahead—may it be just dark enough to make us stronger.