Sometimes the stars align. You get a project in Flagstaff, and you get to run on the urban trails, with other runners, without worrying about faceplants because there are no rocks. Really? Other people get to run like this? I would run every day if it were like this, you think.
You get to go to Sedona and run there too, on a trail called Hot Loop, which makes you a little frightened, but it turns out February is the perfect time, with water still in the creek.
You drive the Mogollon Rim and see places you went to, years ago, before you knew how your life would turn out. You somehow manage to get a permit for the Grand Canyon backcountry for the sites you have always wanted to camp at: Horn Creek, where they only allow one party per night and the water is allegedly high in uranium content, and Granite Rapids, even though the park stamps your permit with: AGGRESSIVE ITINERARY! HIKER INSISTED ON ITINERARY!
Three times in a year and I am still not done with this place. There is some kind of magic here that I can't quite figure out. And I am not even a desert person. I like water, and mountains, and alpine tundra. So why am I here again? I hope to find out.