The Arizona Issue

059

THE ARIZONA ISSUE

JANUARY 2025

Welcome to dusty, prickly POSSESSED No. 59—aka The Arizona Issue

I broke down in Kingman, Arizona, back in 2014, and for ten hot days, my two road-trip buddies and I languished by a Motel 6 pool, playing Uno, smoking cigarettes, and waiting for the local mechanic to call (he never did). Each day at sunset, we’d wander up Route 66 to The Sportsman, a shady saloon notable for its cheap drinks and complete absence of sportspeople—most of the customers looked like they’d been stitched together from old saddlebags and turquoise. I myself was definitely not a sportsman at the time (certainly not a runner), which is a shame because instead of getting drunk and waking up every day feeling like Satan had used me for a Q-tip, I could’ve used that time to clock miles and explore the beautiful desert trails the Grand Canyon State has to offer.

Arizona is trail runners’ paradise. The scenery is spectacular, the weather is great, and the running community is thriving, to say the least. To be honest, it seems odd that they haven’t yet named an Arizonan city for trail running—you know, like they did with Surfers Paradise in Australia. That’s not a nickname—that’s what they called it: Paradise for Surfers... Perhaps Flagstaff, AZ, should be renamed Trail Runners’ Paradise or Dirtland or Ripped Ligament City, something like that. I don’t know, but it wouldn’t hurt to write a letter to Becky Daggett, the Mayor of Flagstaff, at Flagstaff City Hall, 211 W Aspen Ave, Flagstaff, Arizona 8600, and get the ball rolling... Shangri-La-teral Ligament Sprain. That’ll do.

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