Wednesday, November 6, 2013

To Tucson, Phoenix and TTR


When I was in Arizona I spent a lot of whining about how I didn't feel at home. 
How the northwest was calling my name. 
I'm sure you remember.
And some of that holds true: 
When I run underneath thick canopies of evergreens with the deafening sound of pouring rain I feel alive. When mud slips out of the tread of my shoes and slaps against the back of my calves I fill with excitement. When I slide down single track and tumble into the woods I feel like a child. I am free. I grew up in the forest. I grew up with the sound of 1,000 frogs. The sound of  trickling streams. The raging torrents of winter floods. The stillness of heavy snow. The silence of winter. It's where I come from. It's me.
But I've always taken people for granted (easily).
Genuine people.
Humble people.
People who love to talk. 
People who love to listen. 
People who take me on night runs with fresh tattoo's when they shouldn't.
People who stay behind and walk with me when I bonk.
People who come over for a guinness and BBQ with girl troubles.
People who get trashed with me at whole foods on week nights.
People who help me get sober when I need a break. 
People who bring a cooler of micro brews when I'm done.
True friends get harder and harder to come by as I grow older.
I don't feel like I ever showed enough gratitude for you.
So I just wanted to to say to all the trail runners in Tucson...
I miss you.




See ya out there!



1 comment:

  1. What a great entry, brimming with the grace and gravity of November's theme of gratitude. I could actually feel the mud on my calves.

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