Goodbye Jenny :'(

Though I had a lot of interesting things happen this week--my nephews leaving Utah, visiting sports medicine, pioneer events at the Church History Museum, MoTab Pioneer Day concert, Draper Days parade, high school reunion, biking to said reunion and having a young kid take unusual interest in me and my bike--my week was overshadowed with a feeling of darkness and emptiness, as we had to say goodbye to our kitty, Jenny.

Last week, we noticed that she didn't seem to be eating much. We wondered if maybe she was eating when we weren't around, or if she was stressed out with all the company we had. She tended to just lick her wet food instead of eating it, whereas normally she loves it and eats it right up.

By Sunday evening, I could tell for sure that she wasn't eating at all, and she was really low on energy. Even my nephew Preston (12) commented that she seemed really sick, and I don't think he'd even heard us discussing her. My mom agreed to take her in the next morning. Jenny wanted to go outside, but I wasn't going to let her out in that condition.

When I got up the next morning (Monday), someone had let her out, so I went to find her so she would be inside when my mom took her to the vet. I found her sitting placidly on the lawn of our sideyard. That was quite uncharacteristic of her; usually she hides under bushes or sits on non-grassy surfaces. She purred when I pet her but otherwise didn't react much. I picked her up and put her inside--she tried to go outside again, but she could barely move. She had deteriorated significantly just overnight. I took her to my room so she could sit out of the way, and she meowed distressedly as I took her. She settled down on my carpet, whereas usually she goes behind my bed or in my closet.

I was recently disappointed to change cubicles at work, but on Monday I was glad that my new one was a bit more isolated. My mom texted me and asked if I could call her. That didn't seem like a good sign. She said that the vet said her temperature was really low and her kidneys were inflamed. They could do an expensive operation, but they didn't think it would do anything. They could do a cheaper treatment by giving her an appetite pill and filling her with water, so we both felt good about doing that.

My sister-in-law (who went with my mom) sent me these pictures of Jenny. Jenny would never consent to being wrapped in a towel.

My mom later told me that the vet had to pour water on her to stop her purring so she could hear her heart. Last year, Jenny was diagnosed with a heart murmur, and her heart murmur had become very pronounced.

Not long after the first call, however, my mom called me again. Jenny's condition was really bad--her eyes kept rolling back, and the vet recommended that putting her down was the best option. So we reluctantly agreed. I felt bad for my mom having to be there to make the decision.

I was kind of weepy the rest of the day, which made it a little hard to focus on work. When I got home, I found out that her body was downstairs in the room she loved to hide in. I thought my mom would leave her at the vet, but it was more expensive, and she thought it would provide more closure to bring her home.

When I went down and saw her little body, which did not purr at all when I petted it, I just broke down. As I sobbed, a bunch of things went through my head:

• How pathetic. Here I am a grown man, crying over a cat. And not even a particularly friendly or loving cat.
• If I'm this sad over a cat, what will I do when it's a person?!
• But we had Jenny more than half of my life. I can remember driving home from the Davis County animal shelter with her one autumn afternoon in 2002, when she was just a kitten. We hadn't even named her yet. That era has come to an end.
• We had her longer than my brother has been married, and longer than my niece or nephews. That's five people who have been in the family for less time.
• In fact, my niece, Allie, used the word "Jenny" or "Jen" to refer to any cat (or other small mammal) when she was a toddler.
• If it had to happen, though, this was a good time, because we are going to New York this week, so we don't have to find someone to watch her.
• I've read that the average life span of a cat is fifteen years. I don't know when Jenny was born, but I estimate it was August 2002, so she was right there.
• She was old, and she wasn't in perfect health. It was probably the heart murmur that did her in (though the vet speculated she could have eaten poison), but she also had arthritis and hyperthyroid. She had gotten pretty skinny recently, probably from her thyroid.

Although seeing her dead was much sadder than I expected, in a way I felt like it allowed me to get it all out of my system and accept it. Then I was ready to take her up and outside to be buried.

Last week, my dad disassembled a slide platform from my childhood because it was rotting. He extended one of the holes where it had been anchored in the ground, and we put her in there. My nephews got their last pettings in. (They weren't very sad, since they don't live here, and Jenny wasn't friendly to them.) So in the ground she went, covered with dirt and a cement block to prevent her from being dug up.

Monday, of course, was the hardest, and Tuesday still stung. I was doing better Wednesday, but then Wednesday night, I had a dream where I was buying cat food that could restore cats' health. In the dream, I thought, "No, it's too late, she's already dead, we buried her," but then I thought, "No, it's not too late, because after we buried her I saw her walking around." (That part was fiction, of course.) So Thursday was a little sadder just because that stupid dream got me wondering if we could have done anything else for her. But I'm doing better now.

This experience has me thinking about sympathy and empathy. I know cats aren't for everyone, but I appreciate others' sympathy. I'm not a dog person, but I hope to be more empathetic about people's dogs, especially since dogs have more personality and are better companions. (I would argue that the best dog is better than the best cat, but the worst dog is worse than the worst cat. I feel like of all pets out there, dogs are funnest, and cats are second funnest; but of all pets out there, dogs are the most work, but cats are the least work, with maybe the exception of fish.)

We knew this day would come someday, but I didn't expect to be so sad when it did. 

This is a screenshot from a video my grandparents took when she was a kitten in 2002.

Scrapbook image of her playing in a Christmas garland in 2003.

June 2006

A messy room and ugly carpet, February 2007.

2008, when I was on my mission.

December 2009. She always got poofy when she saw another cat outside.

She loved garlands. 2010.

And she loved soft things, especially when they were new. 2012.

Sometimes she slept in odd positions; this was one of the weirdest. August 2015.

Sleeping on my fall rug, 2016.

In February 2017, she got really sick when she had an abscess. We were more worried then than we were this time; this time we thought it might be another abscess that could be fixed. We spent a lot of money to restore her to health in February. It only bought her five more months, but I don't regret it. She seemed more loving those last five months. We had to give her thyroid pills, and even though she didn't like it, it gave us an opportunity to bond.

Whenever a new drawer or cupboard was open, she had to explore it. April 2017.

Shooting fireworks like it's the Fourth of July

This week has been one of those weeks that happens only a few times a year, where I get to spend time with my three nephews. Last year, and in previous years, they spent nearly a month out here, but this time it's just over a week. I'm sad about that, but as they get older, I don't have to worry as much about them changing a lot between visits.

They are funny, calling me Jeff, Greg, Bob, Grunkle Mark, Uncle Hairy, and other names they think of. We were discussing my sprained ankle (more on that in a bit), and Franklin (9) asked if they should call me Ankle Mark.

On Monday evening, we went to North Salt Lake's annual fireworks show. I took my niece and nephews up to food trucks, because it's not very often you can walk to dinner in my neighborhood. We set up a blanket that I got for Easter on the grassy hill, and the hill was steep enough that we slid down it. It was a pleasant evening. I love doing traditional holiday things. You may recall that I made a bucket list of things to do for every holiday this year, so going to a fireworks show was part of that, though I do so every year.

Another thing on my bucket list was to go to a parade--even though I'm cynical about parades--so we went to Centerville's parade with my grandparents. I was all decked out with a stars-and-stripes hat, stars shirt, flag shorts, stars sock and stripes sock, and flag shoes.

It was a fairly typical low-key parade, mostly advertising and campaigning.

No holiday is complete without a trail run, so I thought I would go up Holbrook Canyon. Last year I went up North Canyon, but that's become too commonplace for me, so I thought I'd do Holbrook, which wasn't my favorite when I did it last year, but it's good to change things up once in a while.

One of my problems with Holbrook Canyon is that the trail can be pretty narrow. So as I ran up, I had to pass a few families. Adults are good about getting out of the way, but children are not. But after a quarter mile, I misstepped and twisted my ankle. I did the same thing last year, though I think this year the injury is not as bad, so hopefully it will be a quick recovery.

Having a sprained/twisted/rolled ankle in itself isn't too bad (at least not this time), but it's the side effects that are disappointing:

• I didn't get an adventurous run in on the holiday.
• Consequently, I didn't get the unlimited calories I usually get when I go running.
• I was really embarrassed to have to go back past all those families I had just passed so soon.
• It's been on my bucket list that during the Pioneer Day season (now), I run to Ensign Peak from my house. I don't know if I'll recover in time to do so. (This isn't on my official holiday bucket list, just something I've wanted to do.)

Oh well. At least I was only a quarter mile up the trail (unlike last year's 2.5 miles). And at least it's the hottest time of the year (it would be miserable to be laid up in spring or fall). I'm hoping to go in to a sports medicine clinic sometime soon to get advice.

Well, I wasn't going to let a sprained ankle ruin my day, so I continued with most other plans I wanted to do. An indie pop/folk band I love, The National Parks, was playing a show up in Clearfield, so my mom and I went up to see them, because no one else wanted to go. They're a fantastic band--they're not ones I think of when I think of things I love, but when I hear them, I'm reminded, "Oh yeah, I love these guys!" Their drummer had some kind of medical emergency, so there was no percussion, yet they still did an amazing job. They may not be hugely popular, but those of us who like them love them, and lots of people there (including me) were singing along.

Then we purchased some fireworks to light with my nephews, since lighting fireworks and sparklers was also on my bucket list. The stand we went to wasn't very friendly (not that they were outwardly rude, they just didn't say anything to us, like literally). We also aren't aerial firework people, but this stand mainly catered to that. We did get some aerials unintentionally, but the regular fireworks weren't that good, and they were expensive.

Two years ago, I added Pioneer Day to the canon of holidays I formally celebrate, and I've found that it makes Independence Day less depressing when I know that the patriotic holidays aren't over yet. (See, Pioneer Day was a patriotic American holiday for the very people who invented it and whom we honor, so it should be for us too.) We lit fireworks again on Thursday, because that's on my bucket list for Pioneer Day season, and sadly I won't be here for the actual day.

On Thursday, I went to a wedding reception that had food that was very fancy. I'm a simple man, and the fancier the food, the less I like it. They had highly seasoned vegetables, but I would have preferred plain roasted vegetables, maybe with a little olive oil. They kept the stems on the carrots, which may be fancier, but it's less edible. And they didn't peel the asparagus, which is ten times better when it's peeled.

My Saturday wasn't very eventful because of my ankle. But we had family over and played the Pictionary/Telephone game, and I find the sentence Franklin made up absolutely charming.

"A T. Rex eats a flying rainbow potato."

Then today my mom wanted me to teach her youth Sunday School class, using the talk I gave last Pioneer Day. (It's two weeks early due to various vacations.) I thought it went pretty well.

Visiting Sanpitch

It was quite an eventful week!

At first, though, I was disappointed that they had me switch cubicles at work. Next week, a new intern will be starting, and they want me to work with him, so they want my space to be by his. But I have loved my cubicle for the past two years, because when I lean back, I can see the tops of the windows and see the weather, and during the winter I can see if it's dark. I'm sad to lose my windows, and my new hallway/aisle is very narrow. Oh well. At least I will no longer be by the noisy ancient-looking missionary, who calls his wife at least three times a day, frequently yells at his computer ("You dumb thing! Arr!"), and constantly mutters to himself ("Oh, wow, wowowowow").

I will miss the tops of the windows.

 Wednesday evening was my final installment of June goathead eradication for the year. I found nine places this month where I had to pull them up (seven in North Salt Lake, one in Bountiful, one in Sugar House). This week's was by a gas station/convenience store, so afterwards I went and got a cookie with patriotic sprinkles. I was hoping they would give it to me for free for beautifying their property.

My parents left to go pick up my nephews, so I was left alone in the house. But I myself left as well. My YSA ward had a three-day outing to Sanpete County. I was happy for this, because that's one county I've never been to. My generous mother let me drive her car, since I didn't think my 1995 Legacy would make it that far.

Before we left, we were warned of a news article about a fugitive running loose in Nephi, where we were passing through. The suspect was 5'11" and 168 pounds. Guess how much I weighed myself at that morning?

You can ignore how filthy the scale is, thank you.

We stayed at a place called Pheasant Run Outfitters near the town of Fayette. It consisted of a "clubhouse" with a recreational area and some bedrooms, with a larger lodge with bedrooms. I've been in different rental vacation homes, and this one was one of the more poorly designed. For example, the serving area did not have a sink, one bedroom had doors only to the outside and to a bathroom, and apparently there was a small fire in the kitchen because they had wood paneling by the stove (or something like that). The steps were such that I was sure someone was going to trip sometime. But I guess you can't be too picky about such places.

Sanpete County looks a lot like other Utah places.

 A lot of the time was just relaxing, playing games, and eating. Since I had no data and the WiFi was spotty, I didn't track any calories at all on Friday. Oh well, my year of calorie counting is almost over.

As people were drinking soda, bottled water, and other things, it got me thinking about the last time I drank various beverages. I'm pretty proud of my record. The last time I drank:

• Gatorade: yesterday
• Fruit juice: wassail and cider at Christmastime
• Soda: December 24, 2015. Unless Slurpees count as soda, in which case it was last August.
• Root beer: July 22, 2015.
• Bottled water: 2012? 2011? (Bottled water is economically and ecologically unfriendly.)
• Pepsi (caffeine free): summer 2009
• Coca Cola (caffeine free): elementary school? Maybe junior high.
• Mountain Dew: elementary school
• Caffeinated soda: first or second grade?
• Energy drinks: never
• Tea: never. That doesn't count herbal teas, which aren't tea at all. And it doesn't count that caffeinated Clif Bar I bought in 2014 and didn't realize it until after I ate it.
• Coffee: never
• Alcohol: never. Unless you count accidentally swallowing mouthwash.

I initiated this game of Telestrations. Someone drew this for Great Salt Lake...and then the next person thought it was Jesus and Peter walking on water.

People kept leaving the door open, so this fast-moving arachnid crawled in one night. Then I identified it as a camel "spider."

On Friday, I took a few people to Yuba State Park, because we were really close, and I had never been. Someday, I might make it my bucket list to visit every state park in Utah, so this one is off my list. Now I understand why I had never been. Maybe it would be better at a different location in the park, but I was not impressed with this Painted Rocks beach. I got in the water, and it was very muddy and I kept sinking. At the deepest part of this portion of the lake, the water was only to my shoulders. I tried to swim, but most of the time it was too shallow. When I did swim, I only dared to backstroke, because I didn't want to drink too much mud. But it was good to get it off my bucket list.

I made it to the other shore by swimming, walking, and crawling through the water.

I walked to the top of the little hill on the right.

 A group of us went to the Manti Temple. As we pulled up, a cow was galloping across the temple lawn. It was entirely charming and hilarious. We watched as the cow crossed the roads and some kids on bikes chased it. It made my day that I first saw it on the temple grounds; it wouldn't have had the same effect if I had seen it elsewhere first.

 I loved the pioneer designs and aesthetics throughout the temple, and I liked the murals. When we got out of the temple, there was another herd of cattle roaming the town and stopping traffic. We also saw a deer and a dog crossing the road before we left town. The Manti Menagerie.

It's difficult to take pictures on your phone when it's bright outside.

 On Saturday, I was able to knock another state park off my bucket list as we went to Palisade State Park. This one was way better than Yuba. The water wasn't muddy, and I could do a lot more. We rented paddle boats, canoes, and paddle boards, and I did some of each, though paddle boarding was mostly on my knees. The lake's rules are that you have to wear a life jacket if you go past the docks, so I did a decent amount of swimming, though I had a life vest so I didn't have to worry about sinking. I wanted to be ambitious and backstroke across the lake, but I couldn't go in a straight line, so it would have taken forever.

I hadn't planned to go the whole time, since my job was ending in August and I didn't want to take the time off. But since my job got extended to December, I felt I could go the whole time. And I'm glad I did.

More cherries and odds and ends.

I had a lot of less usual things going on this week.

On Monday, my ward had FHE at our bishop's house, so I decided to take the opportunity to ride my bike there. I think it was the first time I'd been on my bike in two years. And surprisingly, I was able to go up a steep portion that I couldn't go up last time. Maybe all my running conditioning let me bike uphill? But I would think they're different muscles. Anyway, it was really fun. I love having the wind blow in my face while I'm going downhill effortlessly. I'm just not very good at biking, so it's hard to get out often when I live on a hill.

My grandparents have season tickets to Center Point Legacy Theater, and every month they take a different person to a play with them. Tuesday was my turn; I had chosen 1776 because there just isn't that much Fourth of July drama. It was enjoyable, but a little salty for my taste. (You know what I mean by salty, but I think it's funny that in Colossians 4:6, it admonishes to "let your speech be . . . seasoned with salt," with basically the opposite meaning!) I would say more about the play, but I often feel corny reviewing things on this blog, and I'm a little short on time.

On Wednesday and Thursday, I had at least three things I wanted to do: pick goatheads, bake with cherries, and go running. But I only had time each night for two. So on Wednesday it was picking goatheads and making a chocolate cherry tart.

Goodbye, evil plant!

I've passed this cat many times before, and I couldn't resist petting it. It's less cute but more muscular than my own.

This tart with a chocolate crust has been my very favorite cherry thing I've made. This is a terrible picture of it.

 Then Thursday was running and making cherry strudel.

Sego lilies!

I made two logs of this cherry strudel, and my dad ate the equivalent of one log. Oh well. He often isn't very enthusiastic about all the things I cook.

Friday I had to go out to Sandy for the wedding reception of my old roommate Jordan. It was good to see him, but I always feel weird talking much to the bride or groom at receptions because I know they have a million things going through their minds, so why should they talk to me? It was also good to see a few other people from that era of my life. Jordan was a good roommate, because our other roommates were bros--nice but insincere--and a wannabe hipster who started out great but decided he was too good for us.

And this will show you how pathetic I am, but I was pleased that the reception was close to a Shopko, since all the Shopkos close to me closed, and they have some of the best Fourth of July candy. They're the only store that has patriotic Tootsie Roll Pops, which are one of my favorites. See? Pathetic.

On Saturday I ran about 10.75 miles. As I was running up a trail, a mountain biker came down and called me a name that wasn't mine. He then realized I wasn't him, so he stopped and asked my name. A little later, after I had turned around and was going down, he came back up and saw me and said hi and remembered my name! I'm glad other people are friendly and extroverts so I don't have to be.

Then today, Sunday, I went with my family out to Delta for the homecoming of my cousin. He did a great job. I was surprised that their ward program had tacky quotes on the bottom of each page. I would be fine with scriptures or General Authority quotes--but not cheesy sayings with dubious gospel support.

Who says we should sit in silence, especially for such an arbitrary amount of time? "Buy a lock"? Really? And I don't think our blessings necessarily correlate to our stress.

Umm...

That's terrible theology! You just wanted to make an acronym. You should pray for strength to act, not to be acted upon.

 Then I came home and brought out the cherries again. They're starting to get moldy, so we're freezing what's left.

This baked cherry omelet was yummy.

Cherry chipotle salsa is tasty and gorgeous with a little kick. I made it last year without pureeing it, and I really like it better this way. And when it's pureed, it means the worms are pureed too!

Picking cherries and picking goatheads

When plants reproduce, it's usually benign.

Sometimes, however, they can reproduce in either benevolent or malevolent ways.

My sister has a cherry tree in her backyard, and cherries are an example of benevolent plant reproduction. Cherry trees surround their seeds with a beautiful, edible substance. So I spent a day this week picking cherries from her tree. I picked a lot to use in various desserts and dishes.

See, I don't feel completely comfortable eating them plain, because many of the cherries have fruit fly larvae squirming around. I know they're harmless, but my brain has been conditioned to think "Eww! Gross!" But as long as I'm cooking them up in something, I can pretend they're not there.

A widdle ladybug!

That's my sister's dog, in case you forgot I'm not a dog person.

Cherry crisp! This one used a citrus topping.

But goatheads, on the other hand, reproduce nefariously. There is no tasty fruit. Instead, there are nasty seeds that look evil, and they are evil. The seeds, which look like the head of a goat, get incredibly hard, and the "horns" are sharp enough to puncture flesh, pop bike tires, and stick to shoes. They are utterly diabolical. So every June, I search out the plants so I can pull them up. I wish these plants had feelings so they could feel me torture them. I haven't been able to do as much as I would have liked to this month so far.

Goathead plants surrounding an anthill.

In other news this week, it was on my bucket list that during the Fourth of July season (which is right now), I would go to some American historic site. So I went with my dad to Fort Douglas on the U's campus. It was built during the Civil War for US troops to keep an eye on the telegraph (and the Mormons). The museum has some interesting artifacts, including a flag that went up San Juan Hill in the Spanish-American War, and a smoking pipe shaped like Millard Fillmore. There were various military vehicles, mostly from World War II and the Vietnam War. My dad enjoyed that part. But me, I'm not into cars, and I'm not into military history. Before I got a job in history, it was my worst and least favorite subject. It was interesting enough to go to; it seemed like a fitting thing to do at this time of the year. It was actually Fort Douglas Day, and they had special exhibits and people walking around in period clothing from different eras of US (and Celtic!) history.

I liked the tiny windshield wipers on these periscope things on this tank.

This is a relic from the World Trade Center.

I don't have a whole lot of time to visit historic sites when I have to be out eradicating goatheads and making cherry desserts!

Unduly concerned

I feel like I have a pretty happy life. That's not to say I like everything about it (e.g., I don't have a BFF), but overall, I'm happy with my life.

I have a fantastic job, even if it's not permanent yet.

I get so much joy out of trail running. I get to be healthy and have fun at the same time.

Sticky geranium

Sego lily season!

I geek out over holidays and holiday treats.

I wish the Kneaders flag cake was a little smaller so I don't feel guilty eating the whole thing.

I love having a teenage cat.

Yessir, I'm pretty content.

But I look at other people's lives, and it makes me sad.

I know a little child who can be a cute kid when he is well behaved, but often he is not, because he has a terrible father figure, who likewise had a terrible father figure himself, who (apparently) also had a terrible father figure. It's so sad to see the cycle continue.

I know someone who has some physical deformities, and I was thinking about what it must have been like for him to grow up with those, and how the inevitable school teasing probably contributed to insecurities and poor social skills.

A family friend is currently in the hospital with cancer, and even though his survival odds would be so much better if he quit smoking, he just can't stop.

And all this kind of makes me feel guilty. Who am I to be happy when there's so much sadness going on? Just because I'm fortunate enough not to have poor role models, physical disabilities, or addictions.

I find myself plagued with guilt and regret. I regret poor decisions, awkward situations, and unfortunate circumstances.

For example, my ten-year high school reunion is coming up, and they devised a rather cumbersome, antiquated method of payment. I had to walk into a bank and make a deposit to an account. (The other option was to mail a check. Seriously, what year do they think this is? They also made a Facebook group, where I think an event would have been more intuitive, and they asked everyone to comment on a post so they could see how widespread their posts were. Wouldn't a "like" be just as effective?) So I go in the bank and tell the teller that I need to make a deposit. I don't specify what I'm depositing it into, so she takes my name and searches and searches and can't find my name, because I don't have an account there. I guess I should have known that she thought I was trying to deposit it into my own account. So when that was straightened out, I told her the account name was "WX Class of 07," because that's what the instructions said to make the check to. How was I supposed to know they spelled out "Woods Cross," contrary to what they had written? Afterwards, I was eating lunch and reflecting on how awkward the exchange had been. It was dragging me down. But I had to realize that it really wasn't that big of a deal. It was over, and I did what needed to be done. Why did I have to think about it anymore?

Yesterday I was reading Philippians 4, which might be my favorite chapter in the New Testament. Verse 6 says "Be careful for nothing," which the study helps say would be better translated as "Don’t be unduly concerned about anything." (Semantic shift is a very real thing, people.) The Catholic New American Bible says "Have no anxiety at all." That verse had never stuck out to me before, but this week it did. I worry too much. I need to stop.

Figuring out how will be the next step. 

Running into summer

Ah, the first summer holiday.

I had a few options for what I wanted to do on Memorial Day, but I decided it would be a good day to try out a new trail. I had heard of the Kenney Creek Trail and how it was lightly trafficked. That honestly scared me a little bit--what if something bad happened to me and no one was around?--so I thought a high-traffic day would be a good time to try it out.

Unfortunately, the trailhead is past where you have to pay to enter Mueller Park. But since I'm a good citizen without a sense of entitlement, I dutifully paid the fee, even if I found it a little silly to do so.

 I'm glad I went on the trail, but I don't have a great need to go back anytime soon. It was quite difficult. The trail leads to an old miner's cabin, which is where I stopped and turned around. To get there, you climb 2,200 feet in about 2.3 miles. By comparison, to get to Elephant Rock you climb 1,000 feet in 3.25 miles. I technically ran up the entire thing, but I did lots and lots of stopping, so I don't know if it counted as a run. I did still pass several groups of hikers, though, so that counts for something. Not only was it steep, but it was pretty overgrown, so I got some scratches on my legs, and coming down especially, it made it difficult to see roots and rocks. This was one of those trails where it was slow going up because it was strenuous, but it was slow coming down because it was dangerous. There were also lots of open spaces in the sunlight. I feel like other trails around here are easier, prettier, and cheaper, so this won't be one of my regular trails.

A small stream

I was way above Elephant Rock.

Here's what's left of the miner's cabin. 

The window is really low to the ground, so I'm surprised how much it's already been buried.

It's hard to see, but there's a random fenced area about a mile up the trail near the little stream.

On my way up to the trail, I had to walk past some houses before the canyon, and there was a cat with a collar roaming around the cars. I had to put my hand out so I could pet it, since I'm pathetic like that. Most cats, including mine, just walk away, but that one meowed adorably and let me pet it. Aww! But I didn't take a picture, because I feel weird photographing strangers' pets. Earlier that day, my dad and I were changing a car battery, and Jenny, our cat, came up and started meowing and standing up against the car, like she wanted to see what was going on.

I ended the week with another new running experience. For my bucket list for the patriotic season (between Memorial Day and Independence Day), I wanted to run a race. I've been looking at various options, and I happened to find that Centerville was doing a free trail 5k and 10k. I've never done a 10k race before, though I run that distance frequently. So I decided to go! I didn't take any pictures, because I was racing. It went up by Viewmont's V. Really, I wasn't too impressed with the trail; it was mostly open grassland with little shade, though I did enjoy seeing all the sego lilies. This race confirmed my suspicions: while I am a good trail runner among average people, I'm pretty bad among other trail runners. I came in dead last--but part of that's because I got a little confused by all the intersecting trails, and I got a little lost. I went 6.75 miles instead of 6.2. I would have beaten a few people if I hadn't been lost. But what puzzles me is that the places where I got passed the most were downhill. When I run uphill, I feel like I could go faster if I had the stamina (I am generally a very slow runner). But when I run downhill, I don't feel like I can go faster without risking twisting my ankle or tripping on rocks and roots. So how can others go faster than me going down? And some of those who passed me going down had to walk up a steep hill, where I could run up it. Oh well. It was a very low-key "race," with no prizes, finisher's medals, or even those number bibs. But I did get a donut with red, white, and blue sprinkles!