Our three-month assignment at Big Bend
National Park ends this Friday. I confess to having mixed emotions
about leaving. While I won't miss being so far removed from
civilization, I will miss the grandeur of the Chihuahuan Desert, the
beauty of the Chisos Mountains, and the majesty of the Rio Grande. I
will also miss the Park Service staff and volunteers with whom we've
worked. What a great bunch of people!
Activity at Persimmon Gap visitor center slowed a bit after the holidays. The change of pace afforded me the opportunity to participate in a different kind of activity, the Big Bend 50/25/10 Ultra Run. This is one of those “you mean people actually PAY to do that?” experiences that takes runners over a course that would send shivers down the spine of any driver of a low-clearance vehicle. Entrants opt for distances of 10, 25 or 50 kilometers. (That's 6.2, 15.5 and 31 miles, in case you slept through class the day they taught the metric system). They plop one foot in front of the other through Big Bend NP's roughest back roads to the finish line.
Activity at Persimmon Gap visitor center slowed a bit after the holidays. The change of pace afforded me the opportunity to participate in a different kind of activity, the Big Bend 50/25/10 Ultra Run. This is one of those “you mean people actually PAY to do that?” experiences that takes runners over a course that would send shivers down the spine of any driver of a low-clearance vehicle. Entrants opt for distances of 10, 25 or 50 kilometers. (That's 6.2, 15.5 and 31 miles, in case you slept through class the day they taught the metric system). They plop one foot in front of the other through Big Bend NP's roughest back roads to the finish line.
A couple of 50K runners pass our station. Eight miles
down, just 23 more to go!
|
Before you go thinking I was
actually foolish enough to enter this grueling event, I should
explain that my participation was limited to pouring cups of
electrolyte-replenishing beverage and cutting bananas into bite-sized
pieces so that those among us who still have knees could live out the
day.
Feeling it our duty to spur all
those weary athletes on towards completion of their quest, the two of
us assigned to aid station #2 cheered every runner as if we were a
throng of five. I met hundreds of people, each of whom moved me
emotionally for their grit and determination. The most awesome
participant I encountered was a 70-year-old woman who looked almost
as fresh midway through her course as did many of her 30-something
counterparts. What a gutsy lady!
Leonard and I now direct our
attention to the next finish line in our own race, ticking off the
items in our two-page departure checklist. He will be busy prepping
Kong and Truckzilla – those tires don't inflate themselves, you
know – as I reorganize Kong's contents with an eye
towards balancing weight load and safeguarding our belongings for
next week's “rolling earthquakes.”
Aid station #2. One runner called it, "an oasis in the desert." |
On Saturday, we wander
north to San
Angelo, Texas to spend a couple of days with the fabulous Fabulista de Costa Rica (aka Kat) and her mother the equally fabulous Margie.
The plan after that – as always
with full-timing, etched in Jello – is to spend the rest of winter
in Texas before venturing to Kansas for another visit with la
familia. Then, it will be off to NW New Mexico for a two-month
volunteer gig at Aztec Ruins National Monument.
So long, Big Bend. It's been good
to know ya'.