It's a quick three and a half hours from Las Vegas to Zion and we took our time, following the “special directions” that the Guest Relations Manager at the lodge had given us (“guaranteed to take at least a half hour off your time”). Our route took us through picturesque small southern Utah farming towns once settled by Mormons and now sporting funky little coffee shops and antique stores selling home made jam.
If you’ve never been in this part of the country, its magic is kind of hard to describe. I know plenty of people who would rather hear nails on a chalkboard than holiday in the high, baked desert southwest in August, but for me, I enter this country and suddenly I feel alive.
As you begin your ascent on the south side of the park, the scenery becomes absolutely majestic; red rock and shale scarred and scalloped by millions of years of blowing sand, with deep gorges cut by the never ending, relentless flow of water from spring time melts and summer flash-floods gone by. The sheer size of the rock, the cast of cloud shadows on the strange formations always humble me and I can’t help but realize, once again, how terribly short our human lives are. “Use it well,” my internal voice whispers.
Our cabin is lovely. It’s constructed of logs, but could hardly be called rustic with a huge claw-foot whirlpool bathtub and a double head shower big enough to accommodate a lawn chair. But the best part is that it faces a meadow that goes on forever…with a windmill and a herd of buffalo that wanders, grazing lazily on a seemingly unending food supply. Once they covered the Great Plains in numbers so great they blackened the land. Now, this preserve cultivates a small herd that stops traffic when its grazing roadside about a quarter mile away.
Steve and I went to dinner around seven (this place employs a gourmet chef and they grow all their own organic fruits and vegetables) just in time for them to release the horses into the pasture on which the restaurant sits. These extraordinary animals came whipping by (free at last after hauling tourists on their backs all day), tails held high, pushing full throttle past the restaurant’s picture windows. Two colts followed their mommies, overjoyed at the opportunity to run and play free. Absolutely gorgeous! All the diners put down their forks and heaved a collective “AAhhhhh.” As for me, I marveled at the muscles rippling in these beautiful animals and the ease with which they run – so natural. They love it as much as we do, and that’s not surprising, is it?
We finished that evening sitting on the porch with Steve’s stargazer iPhone app identifying the constellations and counting all the shooting stars. Perfect.
This morning I got up at 8:00 (really 7:00 in my internal clock) and decided to do a five miler going north on Route 9. Now, this is the part where all you women living in Denver get to have a good laugh. It didn’t take me long (about 3 minutes) to realize that the elevation was definitely going to be a factor here – one that I really hadn’t considered. Though I wished for some fast, flat miles while on vacation I realized immediately that the next flat surface I would encounter would be that treadmill back in Vegas on the way back home. This place is ALL 10 – 20% grades rolling up and down.
Now, hills are not a problem for me. I live in a place where I have to run hills every day, but hills at nearly 6,000 elevation – well, that’s another story. I felt like I just couldn’t get enough air into my lungs, no matter how deep a breath I took, and I had to slow way down to even get close to a comfortable pace. There was very little traffic on the road thankfully, and the motorists were quite courteous. I was just settling in to my stride when I noticed up ahead about 200 feet a herd of free-ranging cows. Awwww…how cute! There were two babies, a mommy and …a bull…with BIG horns! OK. This is not something that happens every day while running in Los Angeles.
I slowed down a little on my approach just as two motorcycles came roaring down the road. As they passed the cows they freaked out and started bucking and kicking right in front of me. I really didn’t know what to do, except to cross the road and give them as wide a berth as possible. I scanned the shoulder to assess the possible damage of a quick roll-away should they decide to charge me and as I passed I saw the whites of that bull’s eyes staring me down. Oooh he was pissed! Thankfully however, they let me pass, but the adrenaline rush gave me the extra push I needed to get me up and over my last hill before turn-around.
Ah, the halfway point on an unknown run. Don’t you love it? Everything from here is downhill, even if it’s actually uphill. I was well warmed up, my breathing had become somewhat easier, and I found myself running a 9:20 as I made my way up the steepest hill on the return. That’s when I saw them…that herd was waiting for me on MY side of the road again and they didn’t look happy! OK, so maybe I am anthropomorphosizing this evil herd, but I am telling you these guys were out to get the city girl.
I started to cross the road again in avoidance and just as I stepped out the bull snorted and broke out in a full run, first towards me, but then veering off to the left with the rest of his charges following close behind. Ha, ha, that was enough to get me to put on the pace as I high-tailed it out of cow territory! I looked over my left shoulder and saw them sauntering through the brush and trees. I swear they had a self-satisfied look on their faces.
Well, to make a story that has gotten quite long short, I ran the route back about 2 minutes faster than out for a satisfying 9:23 pace under somewhat adverse conditions. What a great first run here in Zion! Only one question; does Mace work on cows? (Just kidding).
Tomorrow we’re getting up early for a horseback ride through the high meadows, then a 3-mile hike in the late afternoon. What a great vacation!
