So, I’ve been looking back on what I’ve written, and it looks like I’ve spilled an awful lot of digital ink about my DC experience, and next to nothing about what I’ve been up to in Tempe. Thats been a little intentional I guess…Arizona has been a little harder to frame than my work in DC, but now that I finally have a second (naturally, right before I leave), I thought I’d try and write a little bit.

I know that one thing my new adventures have in common is that I did an awful lot of running while I was there. Thats just a side effect of office work for me…I just cannot stand to sit behind a desk for 8+ hours a day, so when I get the chance, I boogie as far as my war-torn legs can take me.

Running in Tempe is very, very different from running in Foggy Bottom. My morning jaunts in DC were along a scenic pathway along the Potomac, with the Rosslyn skyline and monuments galore in the background. I’d head down from my apartment, loop around the Arlington Cemetery, and then pause to catch my breath on a staircase behind the Lincoln Memorial. They overlooked the waterway, and at the top, you could see this little piece of Grafetti, which somehow managed to warm my cold, cynical heart. These scene was very inspiring to me for some reason, and most everything I wrote in April was composed on these steps. If I thought to run with a tape recorder, I could have dictated all of my column obligations for The Lantern and The Advocate, although I’m pretty sure I would have looked like a major creeper.

My running experience here in Arizona is basically the entire opposite of that scene I just painted.

The first time I ran, I figured 7 AM was early enough to beat the oppressive Arizona heat that I had heard so much about…and if God felt that one sun was enough for Tempe, I would have been right. I am convinced however, that he took this particular zip code of desert to show off to all of his buddies, and turned the power “up to 11″, so to speak.

I managed to get about a mile and a half on that dusty track before I began to literally feel dizzy from dehydration. Its weird, because you don’t really feel yourself sweating. The sun is so intense, your sweat literally evaporates as it leaves your body, giving you this odd misty feeling…until you drop dead, left to the lizards and buzzards.

So daytime running was right out, and running in some climate controlled gym practically takes the point of running. I had to settle for going out after my shift, which was usually around 12:30 at night. By then, the sun had gone down, and the temperature dropped to a more manageable lower 90s (which of course, in Ohio, would be cause for some sort of public emergency). Midnight on a Tuesday here on the campus of Arizona State University is a rather lonely time to be outside. The smart locals packed the bags and went home, to cooler climates, or at least to places with pools, while us poor, unsuspecting northern bastards moved in for work.

You don’t go on runs on this dirt track in Tempe for your mind, just your legs. I didn’t really feel comfortable running too far off campus at 1 AM, especially after one of my coworkers was robbed at knifepoint, so that dirt track on the rundown rec field was just going to have to do.

Which isn’t to say that Arizona isn’t beautiful and inspiring. Far from it. I’ve had the wonderful opportunity to go on some serious outdoor adventures, from cliff jumping to mountain climbing, and nearly everything in between. Having spent so much time in either very urban settings, or in a state thats devoid of such spectacular displays of natural beauty, I almost forgot how majestic the outdoors can me. I can’t understand how things like the Red Rocks could ever get old to people. You all can go out to the bars, and spend your 5 dollars on a glass of beer. I’ll get all the entertainment I need by hiking up on a big ol’ red rock, and just gazing into the desert night.

Coming from Ohio, I kind of feel like the southwest is about as close to going to a different country as you can get, while still staying in the lower 48 of the US. When I go to DC, or Chicago, or upstate NY, I may be in totally different places, but outside, things look and feel very similar. In Phoenix, the climate is totally different. The architecture styles are totally different. Half the people are speaking Spanish. Its clearly still very American, but it feels different enough from home that it still feels like an adventure.

I know I kind of contradicted myself, but I swear this all makes sense up here…that this place can be both bland and lonely (midnight on a running track, 2002 miles from “home”, wherever the hell that is these days) and new and exciting (Sedona).

But thats just the outside. My actual *work*…thats a whole different entry.