"Too many trees!" It is very seldom that I find myself complaining about the presence of trees. They are inspiring organisms that have given me places to play, air to breath, food to eat, shade to rest and homes to creatures I adore. They are vital to our global climate and imperative to most soils. They are even a future adornment to my body in the form of tattoo. But right now, there are just too many damn trees!
I am in the middle of my 13 mile relay leg of the new ultra-marathon race, officially called the "Flagstaff to Grand Canyon 100 Mile Stagecoach Line Ultra & Relay". You can't wipe the smile off of my face but the reason that I would willingly cast away these looming Junipers, if only for a while, is that somewhere out there in the sky just behind my right shoulder is a giant gorgeous high desert full moon. Oddly enough, this is coming from a guy who loves and respects the hell out of the juniperus genus.
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| Juniperus osteosperma |
Their stubbornness to survive on the most crumbling of erosive cliff faces. Their bounty of food, fiber and materials that sustained the hardy indigenous peoples of the Southwest. The shade and talking points that they give me as I lead my group tour of foreign visitors along the South Kaibab trail. Their "no way I'm growing in a straight line" attitude that always seems to frustrate me when an axe is above my head. And the warmth I feel and smell each Flagstaff winter night as the wood stove crackles and radiates the remaining embers from their bark. Yep, the Juniper has a place in my heart, but for now they are merely casting stubborn shadows along my path.
I'm not sure what is it about me that seems to draw in night runs but here I am again, running along a dirt path, headlamp bobbing along and my mind trying not to remember the large variations of carnivores out here. To say I am alone on this section is an understatement. From the time that the snap bracelet hit my wrist, there has not been a single peep in the woods, light on the horizon or voice in the distance. In fact, there will not be a soul to count until I make it to the Moqui aid station...and none after till the next exchange. I am not sure if this adds to the experience but at least it is something that I am used to. I am experienced in running alone in the dark in everything from the Ragnar relay in the middle of Sonoran desert nowhere to 13 mile Grand Canyon loops. So... I am happy.
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| GC at night |
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| Relay Teams Getting Set! |
Eventually I finished my leg with a smile on my face and dreams already of next year. My teammate David was off like a bolt and I hobbled into a truck and drove around to the finish where I passed out in said truck for a couple hours of sleep. I was awoken by the last of our team, Charlie, who had just finished (can't believe I missed it) and we had won the men's relay division! Although like Neil said, "We only had ourselves to beat". None the less, we celebrated our victory and celebrated runners as they came across the line. It was a great race, a beautiful run and an experience that injected me with a little bit of Ultra fever.
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| The Author Getting A Fan Shot With Ian Torrence |
** A HUGE thank you to all of the 100 braver than the runners volunteers for enduring their own ultra challenge of below freezing temperatures! Your night was many factors harder than mine and you made the event a complete enjoyment and success.
* Thanks to Kristin Wilson for the great pictures
