Trail Running In Cereal

Snuggles

5 years ago

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.