There I was this weekend, off to visit with the Rice’s, Jon, Lizzie, John, and Margaret. My close friends’ last vacation in the States, before they return to the UK, with my friend Jon’s mum and dad, and they were nice enough to invite me to join them.
I left work on Friday morning, and drove to West Yellowstone. The drive is somewhat uneventful, but provided I’d not yet been to some of those parts of Idaho, I was excited to see things I had not. Southeastern Idaho isn’t necessarily the most interesting part of such a gorgeous state, but one could hear the same thing said about Wyoming, Colorado, Montana, Arizona and New Mexico. Were it not for the prairies and plains, our settlers would have had nothing to eat, prior to the advent of refrigerated trucking and rail, etc…
I digress. Friday, I drove to West Yellowstone, which is a tiny town with a massive number of hotels and restaurants, most of which are doing their business this time of year. One could tell by the disproportionate number of young women and men from places like Eastern Europe. For some reason, I doubt that a beautiful young maiden from Russia, Ukraine, or Croatia comes to the tiny berg of West Yellowstone for a university education; no, this place is that of lifestyle employment.
I saw the Rice’s that Friday night, but had planned to stay in a hotel, so I could get up early for my fourteen mile run. This weekend was a cutback week, so it was “just” fourteen miles. I know. It’s obnoxious to talk like that, but this Saturday is twenty, and when faced with the difference, one begins to think that fourteen just isn’t that bad.
I woke up at 4:45 a.m. for my run, and stretched grabbing my cup of coffee on the front-end of the morning. I was off at 5:50 a.m., and running to the Rendezvous Nordic ski trails right inside of West Yellowstone. I was referred to them by the hotel staff. Running into those, it was still quite dark, I found myself on a back-road. I kept running the back-road, and was watching my Garmin.
I have to admit, at a time or two I pondered the stray grizzly or wolf pack roaming freely nearby West Yellowstone. I kept running along, however, thinking that those predators were likely closer to where the buffalo roam. It’s amazing how running distance can sometimes work, one can find her or himself running along, thinking about reasons to turn back and try something else. That’s a trick one’s mind plays with them, when doing something voluntary but stressful. Nevertheless, I kept on running. That said, however, the hill never seemed to end. I was running up the foothill range surrounding West Yellowstone, and was not due to stop, even by mile seven, which was when I’d turn around to make it an even fourteen.
There I was, I ran seven miles up the hill, and then, I turned around to head downhill for the remainder of my fourteen mile run. I have the Garmin report, and my elevation started at about 6500’. The summit of my run was 7734’.
The run was what it was. I enjoyed it, and then I spent the rest of the weekend with the Rice’s. I could spend hours writing about what a great time it was with such wonderful people, in such a lovely place. As it is Monday morning, I have to get on about work. Nevertheless, more to come with pictures, but probably not until the Rice’s get back to the Internet, at that point, I’ll have to meander on about what a pleasurable time it was to see such wonderful friends, of whom, in the very near term, I’ll not see a lot. Godspeed to you Rice’s and a happy and safe trip back to Great Britain. “Why do they call it ‘Great Britain?’ Because it’s Great!” – Jon Rice
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