On the evening of 8 July 2013 I went up for my first trail run. 

It was in the 90s, and the evening sun was beating on the exposed face of the Wasatch Range that I decided to ascend.  I took the trail closest to home – a set straight up from Farmington to Flag Rock – an outcropping about 1,500 ft up from the valley floor with a large American Flag.  I started “running” and quickly realized that my Nebraska lungs (and legs) weren’t prepared for the climb or lack of oxygen in the air.  To make matters worse, about 1 mile in, I almost stepped on a rattlesnake.  With the snake behind me, I figured I should soldier on, but was incredibly paranoid for the rest of the run.  I even picked up a walking stick to use to ward off future snake friends, should we cross paths.  I was a little freaked out.  To make matters worse – I quickly realized that I needed water. I had a large bottle in the car, and had figured that the 3 mile hike/run wouldn’t require water on the trail.  The 90 degrees quickly sapped by strength and the trail turned out to be 4.7 miles.

When I got back to the car I chugged the full 24 oz. bottle.

Though hot, dehydrated and freaked out about snakes – it was fun.  And, I was immediately hooked.  I got a great workout (the whole reason for trying to run in the first place) and got to be in the mtns.  Win win.

On my way to the top, on the north trail.  The entire time I was taking moments to crouch and hide in what little shade the scrub oaks provided.

The Flag

Me, dehydrated and red-faced.