running home

I went home this past weekend for my ten year high school reunion–which could be a post by itself! ja!–and every time I go home I make sure to squeeze in a run.

Running in my home town, Douglas, Az, is different than most of my runs. I rarely listen to music, instead soaking in the noise from the people bustling about. It’s a small town, so there is not a lot of traffic. As I run through the streets, I’m greeted by everyone I pass–most of whom I know personally or recognize. It’s difficult to keep running and not stop and chat. As I run, I see buildings I frequented and it’s tempting to stop and go in and see what’s changed–usually not much. As I run, I’m not only running through the streets but running through a thousand memories. I don’t think about my legs, my breathing, my pace, or even my final destination. I’m in a sort of auto pilot of thoughts.

Sometimes I venture out of the town and take a route into the rolling hills of Douglas. The scenery is captivating and you feel like you’re lost in the desert running but not knowing where and not caring.

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Douglas is on the border of Arizona and Mexico and you can actually run along the fence that divides the two countries. Sometimes when I’m there, I see children peeking through the fence. I wave but they just stare…

(photo from virtualtour.com)

(photo from virtualtour.com)

You may or may not understand this, but, there’s even a scent to my town. A scent so distinctive that when I pull into town and roll down the windows, I can breathe in deeply and know instantly that I’m home.