Treasures

Jim started this blog because of all the little, or bigger treasures he would find on his daily runs. It really didn't matter where the start point was, or where the run was going to end. The point was to do it. That's where he excels and others may not.

Regardless of where we were traveling at the time, he runs. It didn't matter if we stopped at a rest stop or a major campground, he was scanning and plotting the best direction to take off. Wind in his face out, behind his back coming in if there were hills involved. I had to learn to be patient and trusting...right 🙄...when he took off to heaven knew where.  I would have my coffee, or maybe more sleep and sometimes sit outside in this new backyard taking it all in.

We were driving in Utah several years ago. Jim was pushing the drive time on the road to more than I was comfortable, but we finally stopped after we missed a turn to a major direction change. It was blacker than black with almost no opposing traffic. I finally saw a small glowing sign that intimated there was a viewing area ahead. Ghost Rock. I didn't know if it was just a little jet out or a real rest area, but enough is enough! We were pulling over. It was a welcome, large, paved and striped area to stop and legally stay overnight, so we set up and packed it in... not knowing where we were really. It was just too pitch black to see.

In the morning, later than usual, Jim had stretched, downed his running drink and made up the electrolytes to pack on his belt. Off he goes to who knows where. Me? I'm lucky to know how to breathe on my own in the morning. Coffee in hand, I stepped out. Out to a wondrous sight. Red, and more reds and oranges and sand hues. Sage and scrub oak hiding the rest of the view behind a mesquite post and wire fence line. There was color and texture and deafening silence. I walked to the fence line to see beyond the low scrubs. The edge dropped to almost nowhere and stretched out for miles and miles... And miles. Canyons and plateaus and mesas in every direction. An eagle flew up out of the canyon floor and overhead, drafting and sighting. The blues of the sky were even bluer against the massive amount of reds. There weren't any,  but I could swear I heard drums. It was peaceful and reverent... and as sacred and holy as any cathedral.

I still hold that experience as fresh and valuable as that day. From pitch black to an array of beauty in the morning that will forever speak to me. You may be looking at black. But, when it clears there could be a treasure of color and exquisite beauty waiting. Some will need to have it pointed out. Some will be unimpressed with yet another red rock. But some will see it, and be forever changed.

Jim started this journey in black. But the color was always there. And, it's getting brighter every day.