by Casey McGuire

Whatever kind of run you had today, mine was perfect. This is my journal, so if you want to discuss yours, get your own! I live in this desert. I love it. I am surrounded by beautiful. I wake up, drink about a half cup of joe, because I’m in a hurry, take care of business, suit up for certain fun, drink a couple of glasses of water, and I’m out the door. The longest I take to do anything in the morning is to choose which shoes to wear.

I’m going running. I’ll consider a couple of trails, but if nothing really jumps into a groggy mind, I’ll head for, and see if I can somehow manipulate, my favorite. A couple, or four miles through some dirt roads, and be right around what I like to call ‘mountains.’ I’ll spot Cotton ridge, and a couple of legs become stronger.

I’m really not sure if there’s a name for just this ridge, but I’ve nicknamed it, “Cotton Ridge.” A while back, I had some difficulty with a girlfriend, and decided to just run more than I had been. After conditioning some, I looked toward the hills and this ridge, which is somewhat challenging, to me, and not too ankle friendly. In less than a quarter mile, I’m 300ft further up. That’s it though. From there, it’s all up and down, until just down. It can be a pretty aggressive trek. The only problem with the ridge is that it is too short. Maybe a mile and a half and I’m off. Then, I just wander about, following whatever pick up trail I can find. There are plenty, because I live in this desert. All and all, I’m currently throwing about nine or ten miles of dirt and rock under my feet daily.

Oh yeah. Why did I name it Cotton? Well, when first getting acquainted with the ridge, it seemed to take my mind off of everything but the few steps ahead of me. I’ve had running in my legs for about seven years, and it’s always been a bit therapeutic, but never so much. Because I had to keep all my concentration on the trail, I thought it had made me Clear Of Thoughts Too Often Negative, or COTTON. Okay, so I played with it for a while to come up with an anagram, and maybe it’s silly, but it stuck, and it’s my name. You don’t like it, get your own!

At the top of the ridge, I’m somewhere else. I float across, as the earth pushes each foot forward like a child in a swing. I embrace the land; I never challenge it. I get lost in a huge high, and only want to focus on the cause. I’ve never stared at anything more attentively as each next step, things that yet exist. The desert breathes beauty around me, and I’m free. Sometimes, I’ll ask myself where I’d rather be, and what I’d rather be doing, just because I know I’m exactly where I want to be, doing exactly what I want to do. Even at this moment, I can look back and remember a perfect time to write about.

I have set tread on many trails, and many of which I will see again. New steps will find new trails, and favorites will change as will the shoes that kiss them. Cotton Ridge has great character. All trails have their identities, even if they take some repeat mileage to recognize. Regardless, I’ll be there where the rubber meets the dirt road.

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