In Which Kailey Goes Running with the Beasts

The past few weeks, I’ve picked up running again. My house is one block away from an entrance into the Cherry Creek State Park. Unless it’s dusk and I run a risk of coming face to teeth with a pack of coyotes, I usually end up within the confines of the reservoir, soaking up the beauty of the Colorado landscape whilst I pant and wheeze my merry way along. I’m not a sprinter, but I like to think that I can go forever, albeit at the risk of compulsive diarrhea on the other side.  On Thursday morning, I woke up at five in the morning and thought I would take an hour run and start my day off on good footing. That was the intent, but I am gifted at getting lost. I always have been. The first time I use any large public restroom I can guarantee that I will get lost on the way out. The simple act of walking into a restroom stall and using a sink is disorienting for me. Living by the Cherry Creek State Park now for three and a half years, I have explored many of it’s crevices and know the ins and the outs of the places I love. But the Cherry Creek State Park is a good deal larger than I originally realized as I set out with worthy intent on Thursday morning. And animal paths never lead back to gravel. As I circled back home on Thursday morning, I made my way from the beach to the Wetlands preserve. My eyes alighted on the third deer I’d seen that morning. I moved carefully, taking in the closeness of the timid creature. Distracted by the deer, I turned onto a path, worn down by the pitter-patter of little paws. My flipper feet thumped along the path following my short little legs until there was simply no more path to thump along. Looking around, I crashed through the grass in search of a path, increasingly aware of the nocturnal beasts who knew the sun hadn’t finished rising.  The more I looked, the more lost I got. But I was determined to find it, so I beat through the summer vegetation as thistles and grass rubbed along my bare legs. I am very reactive to grass. And weeds. But somehow they didn’t deter me. I could see light through the cracks in the trees, and I knew that if I followed it, I would hop down the bank of the reservoir and save myself from the wild animals and environmental allergies. But I allowed stubborn Kailey to steer my body. About half an hour later, after scaling rotting beaver-hewn logs down a creek bed and fully implanting all the necessary ingredients for hives into my legs, I found the path. It was not more than a quarter mile away from where I had been frantically searching while the sun slowly rose in the sky. I don’t know what possessed me to run through the weeds and grass for half an hour while I saw my salvation at my back, but I do know this. If you’re looking for me, you can find me rubbing antihistamines into my bump ridden legs and my arms, laden with mosquito bites, while I laugh at my foolhardy nature, and then again charge confidently into some unknown territory, hopefully without dragging another poor soul down with me.

The beginning of my run.

The tide is a little low believe it or not. This is actually a buoy.

The first pair of deer I saw along the beach. 

The distracting deer

There are beavers in Cherry Creek State Park. Who would have known?

(While on this run, I thought how kind it was of the Lord to withhold our immediate futures from us. How many times would I have taken a pass and chosen some other, more comfortable experience? But my life is richer because of my ignorance, and for this I am thankful.)