I run in the foothills of the Sierra Estrella Mountains.
Trails are raw and unforgiving. Climbs are brutal. Views are nothing short of breathtaking. The foothills draw me in like sirens. Everything in this Sonoran paradise is poised to kill me: cacti, scorpions, rattlesnakes, rocks, and most of all the sun. But, there is something that happens to you out there. Something primal. Something profoundly spiritual (keep it light -RB)
My first race was the Jingle Bell 5k in Canfield, OH. It was cold. Too damn cold. I wore a sweet pair of lined workout pants, long underwear, a few top layers, a fashionable activewear jacket, winter gloves and a nice warm hat. I had my new Nike watch on, I had to know how fast I was. This was going on Facebook! I was a badass! I'm running a 5k!
"Nice snowsuit." (Thanks RB)
I had no idea what I was doing. I took off with the surge, sloshed my new $120 Sauconys in a puddle, overheated, and got passed by almost everyone except maybe a stray smoker who stumbled onto the course. I ran the last tenth in a dead sprint, high hands and all. That race sucked. I sucked. I was done (right after posting to Facebook)
Father's Day 2014, days before heading west, a few friends and I ran the Mill Creek Distance Classic 1/2 Marathon route together, unofficially.
If you are not familiar with the race. Run it. I dare you. The official race is held early March. In Youngstown, OH, in Mill Creek Park. 19 hills to climb, I believe. It will take things from you. Big Bear may break you. If not, the Three Sisters will.
That day in June, I ran with three amazing men, simply for the purity of the run. The weather was much more pleasant; the course was not. Just a pair of shorts, a shirt, and my Nike watch (if I don't post this to Facebook, it didn't happen). I ran barefoot ("nobody cares" -RB) I let everything else go. Along the way, our wives shuttled support. They set up hydration stations and cheered us on. One of the guys enlisted a flautist to play along the roadside.
(RB here. We did not all run barefoot because 75% of us have some damn sense.)
I ran The Mill Creek Distance Classic course.
A year later, and 2100 miles away from my beloved Mill Creek Park, I was prepping for a trail run in my new found Estrella foothills. Weather app says upper 80's, nice! So, let's see, Spyridons (stupid toe shoes - RB), headband, shirt, shorts and hydration pack. The 2 liter bladder with Gatorade should be fine, it's only 6 miles. Where's the Body Glide?!?! Headphones. Playlist? Speed metal. Can't crush these rugged foothill trails without Metallica. Oh, and my TomTom GPS (if I don't post this epic trail run to Facebook, it didn't happen).
St. Anger, Metallica. I'm killing it! Weaving in and out of these foothills. Up There -> Up Yours -> Climbing like a beast! Quick glance at the TomTom... 13:22 pace.
Dead stop. What!?!?! Can't be! This sucks. I suck. I'm done.
When I finally made it home after an epic Sonoran temper tantrum in the presence of cacti, God, and the Sierra Estrella Mountains, I revisited the rant to my wife.
Kim smiled and said, "Like Peter, you looked down at the water and began to sink. You lost focus. Once again, your experience changed based on perception, distraction and noise. (She's good with Jesus stuff) Get rid of the watch. Leave the headphones. Forget everything else. You love to run. So, just run."
I run in the foothills of the Sierra Estrella Mountains.
(RB again. Go visit this guy. He's needy and fun. His wife and kids are a joy. You'll have explorations in cheese and smoothies.)
