During Parent & Family weekend my freshman year, my mom challenged me to complete the Prescott Circle Trail before I graduate. My walk across the stage is just around the corner, so I recently made one final attempt at the 56 mile walk around all of Prescott. When I tried it in January (see Horizons Vol. 39 Issue 9, “Running Around Town”) I made some bad assumptions that stranded me in the snow behind Thumb Butte. Though I failed, I used all four years of engineering education to collect data and update my analysis as follows: I can hike 3 miles per hour. 56 miles / 3 miles per hour = about 19 hours. I should finish the while the sun shines in the midafternoon. Conclusion: start hiking during the previous evening. So with conviction in my heart and caffeine in my head, I arrived at the Fitness Center parking lot at 10:00 p.m. on a cool Friday night. I was just in time to meet the late-night gym crowd, who looked curiously at my headlamp and hiking poles...
I like to think that I’m an eco-conscious guy. When I was craving some Haunted Hamburger the other
day, I just couldn’t justify driving my car all the way up to Jerome. I could’ve called on a friend with an
electric car, but until their electricity comes from renewable sources, it isn’t any greener than my gas
guzzler. To get to Jerome, I had only one eco-friendly mode of transportation: my legs.
I started pounding pavement in the early hours of an overcast morning. Running through Prescott
Valley, I made it to an off-ramp of Highway 89 and started up the left shoulder. It was my first time
running on the side of a road, so I stayed cautiously far from the traffic lanes. I ran in the dirt next to the
shoulder every time I could, which wasn’t often.
A few snack breaks later, I made it to the base of Mingus and settled in for the long ascent. I alternated
half a mile of running with half a mile of walking. It was no blazing pace, but please remember: I was
running for hamburgers, not records.
Unsurprisingly, Highway 89A wasn’t designed for foot traffic. My running lane was the little space
between the driving lane and the edge of the pavement, which was a foot or two across. Most drivers
were understanding of my position and gave me lots of space when they passed by. But if there was
traffic in the other lane, or someone was compensating with an over-sized pickup truck, I was squeezed
off the road and into the ditch.
Most vehicles weren’t too surprised to see me trotting up towards them. The only exception was a car
of older ladies, who were concerned enough to pull over and ask if I was okay. They thought that I was
in some sort of trouble and had to run away as a result. When I said that I was fine and was just out for a
lazy morning run, they called me crazy and sped off. Some folks just don’t get it.
By the time I made it up the hill, I was starting to really feel it. I’m talking about quads cramping, arches
collapsing, and IT bands pulling. My mind was racing faster than my legs, and I seriously considered
calling it quits. But in a moment of clarity, my mind refocused on my mission: a mushroom covered
hamburger and a boozy shake. Courage restored, I ran on for the final stretch.
After five and a half hours, 24 miles, and a few thousand feet of elevation, I arrived exhausted in
Jerome. I took a quick cooldown in the town’s park, and I saw that car of ladies go by. When I waved
hello, they called me crazy and sped off for a second time. Some folks still don’t get it.
In spite of those darling supporters, my burger and shake were well worth the run. They stopped my
soreness in its tracks, but they couldn’t keep my mind from wandering. Looking out at Sedona from
Haunted Hamburger’s back patio, I wondered if I was eco-conscious enough to leg it to that blue
McDonald’s. We’ll just have to see what the summer has in store.
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