Wrightson Wrelief

This weekend a few friends and I took a trip up to beautiful Mount Wrightson. The ascent of Wrightson is always a nice break from the tourist infestation that occurs in my backyard. Mount Wrightson is located in the Santa Rita Mountains south of Tucson. The trek to the summit via Old Baldy Trail is 5.2 miles of heart-pounding, quad-busting, mind-numbing, elevation-gaining good times. The 5 miles stretch has an estimated 4,033 foot elevation gain. In a nut shell, it's steep. Very steep.

During the last 3 years I have run a marathon in October and for each of them I've done the bulk of my training during the summer. I now set my sights on a race that is nearly the equivalent of four marathons in a row. This race also happens to be in October. So here I am again, looking at the sweltering summertime training plan. What is one to do when you reside inside of an oven? The answer is quite simple, go find higher ground. At 9,453 feet, Mount Wrightson is a nice option. 

In just my 3rd week back from injury I am not trying to set any World Records, I will give that another month or so. I decided to stay very conservative at the beginning of the ascent, but wanted to focus on running as much of it as I possibly could. One of the gifts I have gained from being hurt, and there are a few, is that I now allow myself to actually enjoy running.  Something unbeknownst to me, I hadn't done in a very long time.  Before, it was put the hammer down and don't let up until I either finish the run or blow up. Whichever came first. 

It always amazes me how quickly this trail beats you down. From the very start it is nothing but uphill. You never get the chance to warm up, your heart is ready to explode right out of the gate. As I made my way up the mountain it was pretty clear, I was going to have a solid day. I was holding a strong pace, for the difficulty that this trail offers. There was a surprising amount of shade out there, shielding me from the fireball above. 

I continued my climb into the cooler atmosphere beyond. I have done this run a handful of times but for the first time ever, I was falling in love. I was in heaven. The conditions continued to get more satisfying and serene. My legs were turning and my heart was pumping. I felt a smile tattooed across my face. Nature is an amazing playground filled with wildlife and danger, curiosity and challenge.

By the third mile I was pretty much in the zone. I continued running the majority of it, minus a few spots where hiking is required. I honestly felt better than I had ever felt on Old Baldy Trail. All of a sudden a thought trickled into my head, "I have a shot at a PR!" 

Onward and upward I went. Now I was in combat mode. I knew the rest of my run had to be flawless if I wanted my PR. To hell with "enjoying" my run, that's for the birds, put the pedal to the metal and go! My focus intensified as I pushed my lungs to their capacity. Sweat began pouring off my face, into my eyes, burning my vision. My feet falling in-between rocks like the puzzle pieces of earth. 

The final segment to the top starts out with some very runnable trail. In fact, it's the most runnable section of all. But as soon as you get comfortable, it turns on you. Suddenly it's the most difficult section of all. Switchback after switchback of pure rock, each looking the same as the last. I was pushing myself to the limit and it was almost over. 

As I came around what I hoped to be the last switchback I was met by two other runners making the descent. I looked up and immediately recognized one of them. It was a friend of mine whom I hadn't seen since we ran nearly every step of the final 18 miles of Old Pueblo, together. This guy ran a 2:47 marathon in Boston this year and was a witness to all of the mayhem that took place there. We got to talking and catching up... Tick.... Tick.... Tick.... My watch barked at me. "Ahh hell" I thought to myself "I'm not gonna make it." 

I pushed up the last of the monstrosity and hit the summit. I looked down at my watch and said aloud, "guess a PR wasn't in the cards today.. Who gives flying fuck."  

The summit of Mount Wrightson is magnificent, you can see for thousands of miles in every direction. It has a 360 degree view of southern Arizona, and into Mexico. I breathed in the cool, crisp air. I absorbed that indescribable feeling of freedom. There were a few hikers sitting there soaking in the scenery, as well. "You one of those crazy runners?" One of them asked. "I'm crazy, but not because I'm a runner" I quipped. 

It turns out I only missed my PR by about a minute. So be it. The beauty of this sport is that I never stop learning. It really doesn't matter that I missed my record, that's not what's important. I am realizing that the secret to becoming a great runner is to stay relaxed and let it come to you. The only reason I even had a chance at a new best was because I spent the majority of the run enjoying myself and the beauty that this lovely planet beholds. Plain and simple.

All the hikers headed down and I stood there all alone, on top of the world. A welcomed shiver coursed through my body, granting me relief from the smoldering inferno below. We live in a beautiful world. Sometimes when I think about my life, my past, I realize that I could have missed all of this. To think that I could have missed out on this gift is heartbreaking and empowering, all at the same time. I get to thinking about how lucky I really am, for I was granted mercy. It is a high to be this high and I'm hungry for more.

Endless Vision

Ain't Life Grand