What it's like running in Flagstaff, Arizona in the summertime:
You're up early, and it's the coolest part of the day, your shirt will be off soon but at first you actually need it, that mountain air like cold rock. Amble on down to the coffee shop and chat with faces you know well, get that drink going, and everyone is starting something up, laptops open, cars running in the parking lot, other athletes dressed silly but they fit right in because, you are in Flagstaff.
You might meet at your friend's house or a trailhead or you might drive- you never have to but you might choose to drive up higher if it's that type of day but wherever it is the location is not stale it is and lush and you almost feel anxious in entering it, this trail this canyon, this road, this forest, you might cover so much ground to move in and out of storms, ecosystems, you might circle this world up here.
Time seems not to matter, a 2 hour run takes 4 hours because you make jokes and take jokes, and end up talking in the car, and there is the stretching, and the little rituals, setting up for a circus, ropes, there may be dogs and both the humans and the dogs all must relieve themselves, ducking in and out of trees, music, all the damn shoes so many shoes, the attire, the map the route, more jokes.
You are off and it is slow at first because everyone wants it that way, see it is very early and you will be doing this for some while. There may be others, other runners pass with exchanges of waves, nods, and sounds that aren't words. And the mountain bikers, and then more dogs, maybe a hiker, tents with sleeping people. And some days there is no one, and you have it absolutely to yourself in it's splendor asking "how can this exist every day and all these people not know it?" See you might notice the beauty right away or it might be one of those days where you completely miss it until something like halfway through, look up and you are in a meadow, or that panorama view when the peaks are all long and shadowy, maybe the colors, but you'll get it each time, most times you will keep it to yourself because what would you say, you think, all these men know it too, that is why they live here! What words might you possibly say which they have not already said.
If you run hard it will get real quiet and now the jokes stop and the breathing, the breathing! Did you know air could be like this? That you would give anything for more, just a little more, the most efficient lungs known to man- even them-craving for more, kill for more, this held-underneath-the-water feeling that precedes dizziness and darkness, you operate here, your desk, your chair, you work in this.
But our legs are strong, see? Our legs are strong and even without the air no one here is scared, we just move on on, in this pink and orange dust, lips cracked, skin salty, through those colors, pine forests, aspen groves, so many colors but the sky stays blue, the sky our ocean.
It is still early but you may have already been to the top of the state, or to the bottom, you may have been down to the river, or maybe the tank or to the emergency cabin, you may have been where so few will ever get to and you do it each day. After day. The map shows scribbly loops like string, you trace it over and consider the outcome.
There is talk of tomorrow, immediately upon finishing talk of tomorrow? You accept. Miss this for nothing. What if this is taken from you? If the world burns you think a good way to go out running here, in August, with these people, on this trail. Tomorrow comes. You have to ask what it costs but you will pay so willingly, we will all pay so willingly.
We are under 2 weeks to go until Rob and I head into battle. I had 118 miles last week with some good hard efforts in there. It's coming along. I find myself wishing it was here sooner, the competitive side of me just wanting to be in it, hunting, chasing, being hunted, being chased, all of it.
I know I am growing older with my running because nothing surprises me. Last week we went to the Canyon at 4am and stood on the edge both of us fighting fear of what was to come. There weren't many words spoken but it was serious stuff and we both felt it. Inside it was the drop we know so well, lightly surprising hikers and whoosh gone again, off canyon walls falling to the river and the great push up, the teeth gritting grind. Fingers on chalkboard slowly, slowly up. At the top, I tried to be pleased but all I could think of was the absurdity of what the human can force himself to do. I wish I didn't know, it is a very hard thing to have to know.
I am feeling stronger. Most importantly I am looking for a fight, I can feel it on my runs. Towards the end hair up on my neck and hands balled up like fists. I think of this old Nike ad that reads: ""Mothers, there's a mad man running in the streets, and he's humming a tune, and he's snarling at dogs, and he still has four more miles to go."
(Keep in mind, I try to never be mean to dogs. And it should say "trails" instead of "streets". But otherwise it's about right)
Rob and I head up good old Waterline Road tomorrow, this run has been our staple this summer, it will be good to get back there. Usually no one there and might be one of the best places on earth.
More soon.
Mike
