I went home this past weekend for my ten year high school reunion–which could be a post by itself! ja!–and every time I go home I make sure to squeeze in a run.

Running in my home town, Douglas, Az, is different than most of my runs. I rarely listen to music, instead soaking in the noise from the people bustling about. It’s a small town, so there is not a lot of traffic. As I run through the streets, I’m greeted by everyone I pass–most of whom I know personally or recognize. It’s difficult to keep running and not stop and chat. As I run, I see buildings I frequented and it’s tempting to stop and go in and see what’s changed–usually not much. As I run, I’m not only running through the streets but running through a thousand memories. I don’t think about my legs, my breathing, my pace, or even my final destination. I’m in a sort of auto pilot of thoughts.

Sometimes I venture out of the town and take a route into the rolling hills of Douglas. The scenery is captivating and you feel like you’re lost in the desert running but not knowing where and not caring.

Douglas is on the border of Arizona and Mexico and you can actually run along the fence that divides the two countries. Sometimes when I’m there, I see children peeking through the fence. I wave but they just stare…

(photo from virtualtour.com)

You may or may not understand this, but, there’s even a scent to my town. A scent so distinctive that when I pull into town and roll down the windows, I can breathe in deeply and know instantly that I’m home.