"I don't like the idea of you running on those heels," said Dad.
"Huh? I'm not gonna wear HEELS. I'll wear running shoes," I said.
"I didn't say HEELS I said HILLS," he laughed.
My Dad is so charming when he speaks Southern. It only surfaces when he gets concerned, upset, excited or sings a Garth Brooks/Kenny Rogers song.
I went running out at Sabino Canyon this evening after work.
My employers (a.k.a Mom and Dad) were very concerned for my safety.
"What if you get bit by a rattle snake?" asked Mom
"I always keep my cell phone in my bra when I run. I'll call 911 immediatly. Then I'll create a huge gash in my arm with a sharp rock and suck out the venim."
"But what if your vision is blurred after the snake bite?" asked Mom. "How will you dial?"
"And what if some creepy old hiker tries to grab you?" asked Dad.
"There are Mountain Lions and Cougars everywhere in Sabino Canyon," said Mom.
"Well, seeing as how I'll be 35 in July I'm well on my way to being a Cougar myself so I'll fight that nasty ol' hiker and destroy that rattler with my claws and then I will shoot laser beams from my eyes and insinerate the Mountain Lions and we'll all be RICH! ," I said.
MY RUN WAS STUPENDOUS!! I felt so ALIVE!
I must admit to being slightly paranoid about snakes, as I hate them with a fiery passion. They are just so SNEAKY. I ran without an i-pod so I could keep an ear out for Satan Incarnate i.e. The Serpant.
I made up a little song with a perfect running cadence and repeated it 1000 times to the beat of my shoes.
Mr. Rattlesnake, stay asleep
How much ve-nim can you KEEP
In your fangs and in your head?
I'd rather be alive than dead.
As I ran I came upon an older couple waiting for the tran.
"Excuse me," asked the woman gesturing to a nearby spicket, "But is this water potable?" She looked me up and down. "Is this water ok to drink?"
I was slightly offended she assumed I did not know what POTABLE meant. Any FOOL knows Potable is when something is easily carried from place to place. DUH.
So I said, "Yes. The water is potable, but only if you happened to bring a canteen or water botttle with you."
I ran on.
I eventually found myself surrounded by Majesty. The leaves rustled in the wind. The sun kissed my face. The brook tripped and fell over stones on it's way, just like The Sound of Music.
I was in the heart of the canyon. I felt tiny. Less than the dust of the Earth. Humbled. Grateful. Happy.
I had the urge to open my throat and sing out with full voice, HOW GREAT THOU ART! MY GOD! HOW GREAT THOU ART!
But then a couple shirtless teenaged boys ran by and I didn't want them to mistakenly think I meant THEY were Great. You gotta be careful when you're a 34 year old Cougar. Meow. PFT! Roar.
Needless to say I made it home alive.
I plan to go again on Saturday morning at the crack of dawn (11am-ish). THAT'S how wonderful my experience was.
I generally pay my dues to the Treadmill God. Pounding out my frustrations like a rat on a wheel. I berate myself for the 6 extra Depression lbs I gained this year that refuse to disappear no matter how many cheesecakes I devour.
Little tip: Relief, Love, Acceptance and Joy are NOT found at the bottom of the cookie jar. I know. I've looked.
Instead those things are found when one is alone with God at the end of an arduous running trail in the middle of a desert oasis with the possibility of bodily harm. Heart pounding. Peace abounding.
How Great Thou Art.
