The mud and ground felt to me like I was running in cereal.

A familiar crunch and squish…Wheaties that’s what I’m running in!

My mind took me off the trail back to the kitchen table of my childhood. I was staring at the orange box with a handsome Michael Jordan smiling back at me.

“You eat your Wheaties and you’ll be able to fly like him,” my dad would say. I ate a lot of Wheaties, but never ended up with the ability to fly.

Stumbling over a rock, I was jolted back to the trail.

The Wheaties now returned to their real form, small pebbles with a combination of sand and mud beneath my feet. I tried to concentrate on what was up ahead of me to avoid another stumble. My out-toe gait seemed to somehow work out on a trail run, my pace resembling that of a constantly falling duck is easy to adjust to the small obstacles the trail provides; sometimes.

A burning feeling developed in my quads, I glanced down at my legs. They were red and burning not because of use but because of the cold. It was raining and about thirty degrees. I had enough layers on top but decided to let my lower half fend for itself. Having hiked in way worse conditions than cold persistent rain, I knew my legs would soon adjust and start warming up.

I half jumped and ran up a small slope and when my right foot came down I felt the earth cave beneath it. My foot slid and mush seeped in.

Cold, Runny, Playdough...

As my left foot followed, I felt a shot of mud hit the back of my leg. I thought of how wonderful that would look; a brown mud streak below my shorts.

Onward and upward I went sloshing and sliding. Squinting into the rain and fog as I ran further up the trail. The higher I went the harder it became to see as the fog hugged around the mesa. My throat stung with cold air and finally, I stopped.

I turned around feeling a surge of warmth as my body’s momentum began to catch up and heat my core. I surveyed the world below me.

Nothing.

Fog.

There were no sounds. Not even that of a passing car on the road below. Everything was still besides the movement of the plants bending to the will of what was now sleet falling from the sky. I felt the first chill of a calming but sweaty body and knew it was time to go.

I started my descent careful to avoid slipping in the sludge of ice and cereal-mud. Slowly I came out of the fog and could start to see the little houses and barns below. The earth was dark red and rich looking. I had the urge to scoop up some of it and feel its consistency in my hands but kept running and hopping along.

When I felt complete, I was soaked with rain and a layer of sleet clung to me. My legs were covered in red-brown mud and my feet squished within my shoes. I stretched allowing my momentum to again catch up with my body.

Before going inside our little place in the desert, I raised my cold and burning face to the sky, a grey canvas.

I felt the sleet tap my face and melt, the water rolling into my hair and neck, mixing with sweat.

My mind and body were cleansed.

It was too icky to take pictures out on this trail run, this pic is from a snowy visit to Coral Pink Sand Dunes. 

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