Extreme City Slicker

A steady stream of headlights exits the highway as I watch for my friend's car.  Life has thrown him a few curve balls and I invited, maybe even demanded, Oso joining me for a run since few problems can't be figured out during a long trail run.  A car pulls up with a smiling face and he follows me further down the interstate to the parking lot at the base of the trail.

On the horizon, dawn is painting the inky night sky with large brush strokes of brilliant colors as we head out.  Typically music seals my ears while I run, but today I leave the music behind to visit with Oso as we trek up the trail and enter the canyon. 

"Sir, I've never done anything like this," Oso comments since he is a city dweller and pounds out miles on asphalt and cement.  His eyes dart to the canyon walls and back to the trail to ensure good footing.  Periodically, we stop for a breather and his eyes busily wander about the surroundings, absorbing it all like a kid in a candy shop.

"This is beautiful," Oso begins, "but won't bears or lions or shit like that eat us?"

I laugh and offer my theory that we'd win the mega-million lottery before we are killed and consumed by nature.  Plus, if it did happen, what a way to go...a huge adrenaline rush and it's over. 

We continue up the trail and a generic, young mule deer grazes nearby.  Oso snatches his phone to take pictures and his face lights up like he had just secured the first and only legitimate photo of Bigfoot, but then concern overtakes his face.

"Sir, my stomach...I might need to go to the bathroom...I'll try not to..." he reluctantly admits.

"Stop the 'sir' stuff (he is respectful to all and addresses nearly everyone with a sir or ma'am) and I have toilet paper if you need it," I inform him as we continue up the trail.

"Sir, I'm embarrassed and need to go to the bathroom," Oso regrettably states, as if he was cleansing his soul of sins.

"Alright, here," I say while handing him some tp.

"Where do I go?" Oso asks.

"What?  Where do you go?" I respond.  "There....or there...or there..." I add while pointing to various clumps of trees and shrubs to provide some privacy.

"Sir, um...um...how do I get there?" he states with a puzzled brow.

Huh?  What's up with him?  How difficult is this process? my inner voice comments to myself.

"You walk," is my simple reply to one of the most bizarre questions I've ever been asked.

"You mean on top of the plants?" Oso responds, shell-shocked.

Holy shit!  What's wrong with this guy? adds my inner voice.

"Yes, Oso, you walk across the plants to get to the secluded spot to take care of business," I instruct.

With a confused look, he turns and tip-toes across the forest floor and disappears into the vegetation.  Soon, it sounds like a herd of buffalo is crashing through the timber and I can not imagine what he is possibly doing.  Oso later emerges and returns to the trail.

"I'm so embarrassed. " Oso says like he had just shamed his family.  "I need to come back and make it right."  You'd think he had just desecrated the front porch of the White House!

We continue along the trail and I learn Oso was born and raised in East L.A. and is well versed with the nature of inner cities, but has limited contact with Mother Nature. 

We finish the run with his enjoyment somewhat overshadowed by the act he would not forgive himself of committing.

The amount of respect he gave to the forest was over-the-top.  Being so concerned by simply walking across some mountain plants is unheard of and set the bar really high.

Although I am very respectful to Mother Nature, Oso proved to me that I can do better.