Capital building to Aves Twins
Scott texted me asking if I wanted to go running. OK. We chose the trails above City Creek, always a good selection. We met just after 7 AM and then went out in the very cold temperature. The canyon breeze didn't help things, but we got warmed up when we began the climb from the pond at the bend in City Creek road.
Our pace was casual and easy, but we ran most of the uphill. It is nice to be able to run the trails above SLC in the winter. Usually there is a foot of snow covering the trails. We got up to the Twins and took a break for a minute, then reversed our course. On the way down my legs and especially my calves, were achy, and I wondered how well I could run the rolling terrain.
Down at the intersection of the Shoreline trail and the trail coming up from the city, we both felt the need to pull over and, ahem, 'move some product'. We went downhill several feet off the trail, and I chose a secluded spot behind some scrub oak. Scott felt more comfortable out in the open, Julie Andrews style on the side of the hill and proceeded to drop his pants and do the bidness. Whether he knew he was in view of anyone jogging on the Bonneville Shoreline trail from across the gully or not didn't seem to matter -- until he saw two women runners with two dogs approaching in our direction from a quarter mile away. This development set in motion a sequence of hilarious events I like to call The Mile Six Incident.
I had quickly taken care of my business, when I realized I was only feet away from the trail above me and the trees did not cover me very well. Then I realized that as soon as the women came near they would see Scott in all his glory, backside exposed with nowhere to go. Scott must have understood this too because as we heard the chatting women approaching he did a panicked crabwalk, tights still down at his ankles, into the nearest group of trees. He no sooner had got to his new hiding place when the women ran by, saw me below them in the trees (my red shirt) and slowed a bit, obviously aware of our presence below them. When they got several steps downhill from me they stopped because their dogs left the trail. I had my back to them when the dogs-- a black lab and a smaller terrier type -- came snooping through my personal space. They must have determined I was of no interest because they then shot straight for Scott's very recently vacated first position on the hill side. They stopped right on target and began enthusiastically lapping up Scott's still steaming pile of poo. My initial reaction was disgust, which was quickly replaced with amusement as the women, now paused on the trail above me, called to their dogs. "Leave it alone!" one shouted. "Come on! Get away from there!" Scott stayed hidden behind a thin curtain of trees, tights still around his ankles, trying not to laugh out loud at the site of dogs enjoying his waste product so well. In all the commotion he hadn't time to properly cleanse himself. Had he been caught squatting on the hill when the dogs swept through, I am certain they would have bathed Scott with their tongues.
Why they skipped me and made a beeline for Scott's pile of excrement is a mystery. Scott likes to believe that he moves a better product, and the dogs could smell the quality.
The dogs worked quickly, getting their fill. When they turned toward me I could see their little brown snouts. The terrier seemed to be smiling. Another moment and they were gone to join their horrified masters. Do they make mints for dogs? Scott and I could barely hold our laughter, then let out belly laughs that probably echoed down the canyon. Crude and immature, I know, but I forgot all about my aching legs the rest of the way down to the car.
The Mile Six Incident will go into my book of best runs ever. | 