The Keys

For the last 6 days, I have been bloodied, scratched, poked, scraped, and generally harrassed by everything the Arizona desert could throw at me.

Temperatures from 25 to 88 (And that was every day).

Wore the same pair of pants.

Froze my ass off first night and ran back to the car for a thicker sleeping bag. Yeah. It was only 8 miles.

Lived under a tarp.

Slept in a giant plastic baggie.

Ran and hiked 50 miles of desert trails.

Got drunk once. Bourbon. Really drunk falling down missed the fire by that much hit on the head by a giant cartoon hammer and had to be dragged to bed and poured into a sleeping bag drunk.

And on one clear night I slept in the open on a ridge bone of a broken mountain, with the stars on a flickering key chain entwined in my fingers.

Oh the stories.

Happy 22nd Birthday Petra. I love you.