Darn It!

Alone, I effortlessly glide along the trail through the thick mist. I can taste the cloud and feel the dampness brush against my torso and legs. Oddly, although heavy snow intermittently changes to a soft drizzling rain, I am neither cold nor wet. That's hard to believe since I'm only wearing shorts and trail running shoes, but, the moisture lands on my skin and simply evaporates and I remain dry. My cadence remains strong as I nearly float along the ground, absorbing my favorite running conditions while on my #1 trail.

Too Late to Fix

Alone, instinctively distancing himself to the far corner of the horse pasture, Sierra stood.  Eyes bulge, ears are pricked and nostrils flare as he intently watches my cautious approach.  One hand carries a dangling bucket of grain while the other pretends to hide a halter and lead rope behind my back, an overused ploy that I am sure he's seen hundreds of times.  I was new to the ranch and learned from the other hands that Sierra was a captured wild mustang from the Brown's Park area in the northwest corner of Colorado.  Years ago, Butch Cassidy, The Hole in the Wall Gang and other outlaws used the same area for its remote, unforgiving and desolate characteristics.  If Sierra was really born and raised there, his personality may cast a fitting reflection of his early years.

"Easy big fella," I gently spoke to him as his muscular body tensed.