In the foothills balsam root shoots.  Up through the soggy dirt and bolting for the sun, cherry blossoms in the back-yard pop, and at night a warm wind blows a new smell that makes me anxious--it all means one thing--it's time to race the Sunflower again.

As I kept running, I could tell by the ghastly look on their faces that they were somewhat frightened by me. One man even dropped what he was carrying and said to me in broken English, “What you run from?” It occurred to me that they didn’t understand why I was running.

The server turns on the TV at the bar as Natalie Sims walks through the front glass doors. She is sleek and cut, her curly dirty-blonde hair pulled back.  She sits down with me at the table and says,  “It’s so hot.”

We arrive at the trailhead and park the car.  I look at all the running gear on the seat next to me: a handheld water bottle, a heart rate monitor and watch, a full running pack and my La Sportiva running hat. I grab only my hat, leaving the rest. My partner and I hit the trail. Today I run with no agenda, no plans, no goal and I run to escape the hectic pace of life.