Sedona

What I love the most about these trails is how the red dirt adheres to my shoelaces. With each step the little particles cling to my feet, offering themselves as souvenirs. Some from the single track, more from the cactus to my left and a generous sprinkling thanks to the Palo Verde who kept creeping closer to me as I climbed my way up a second hill.

Brin's Mesa Trail looking east. March 2012

To me, there is not a more serene spiritual place for a runner who is trying to escape the cold of Flagstaff, her fears and looming deadlines.

When I reach my destination everything begins to feel so small. I look out from atop this mesa and a giant blue sky greets me. It does its best to make note my thoughts and concerns are miniscule compared to this vast landscape that has swallowed up things much bigger than my worries.

Brin's Mesa (trail #119) March 2012

Living in the city now the ocean has offered the same therapy the red rocks always have. However, the solitude I was so used to is very rare to come by. I often find myself day dreaming of how the dry warm air feels as I swoop past a century tree, or the softness of the dirt, like a pillow beneath my feet, making tiny clouds invoking images of myself as a road runner, or something equally as silly but gratifying. Oddly, the thing I miss the most is that red hue on my shoelaces after a long morning spent drifting through the high desert. A small satisfying trophy for my efforts.