God's Country

I arrived in Laramie, WY on Monday just in time for dinner and a beer. The Colorado/Wyoming border is absolutely beautiful during sunset. Cows pepper the golden landscape - a landscape that rolls continuously as far as the eye can see. Occasionally I'd spy a small grouping of antelope and I even came across a herd of elk storming their way down a ravine...all of this from the highway!

Early on Tuesday morning, I drove to the Vedauwoo section of the Medicine Bow National Forest. There was no one around. I parked and began to run into a thick fog/cloud that unfortunately shrouded some of the magnificent views. It was 6:45am and it was freezing. It was actually glove weather, but I didn't even have a long sleeve. Yesterday during my run in Rock Creek it was blazing hot. Now just 24 hours later, I wished for gloves. I picked up the pace and negotiated my way down a cool trail. Giant boulders rested strangely atop one another up on the cliffs above. This place is apparently a rock climbing mecca. I had actually hiked/climbed around here in January so I kind of knew where I need to go. Eventually I emerged in a prairie and ran until the trail hit a dirt road. I thought I recognized the road and decided to run away from my car. The long sloping hills were heartbreaking at 8,500 feet. One hill took about 4 minutes to get up. My lungs were screaming, but it was great training. The clouds burned away and the sun gave way to breathtaking views of America's heartland. The road had mile markers and I was actually able to record some mile splits (just under 7:00) as I made my way back to my car (or where I thought my car was). I only got in 10.5, but that was enough.

Later in the day I drove to Jackson Hole (where I am sending this dispatch from and where leather and elk antlers make up the entire town). The drive (6 hours) was the most beautiful I've ever done. I had the windows rolled down and I listened to the classic country on 103.3 The Range. I wore my white cowboy hat and bought a new pair of aviators. The highway was mine. All mine. I went almost 80mph down I-80. I stopped a few times along the way. I drove past Sacajawea's grave, went into a Shoshone Indian-run trading post and waded into the cool Snake River. Eventually, the meadows of Laramie gave way to grasslands and the grasslands gave way to mountains. Then, looking down on me from the heavens, still snow-clad, were the Grand Tetons. It is here I'll go tomorrow.

A week ago, I didn't even have Yellow Stone/Wyoming on my mind, but a week later, I am here. I must admit, it's incredibly lonely to do this by oneself, but it's also somewhat liberating. I really have no idea what is in front of me or what might be around the next bend.