Running at Fort Carson
It’s long and flat as I jog toward Kansas.
Fort Carson is nestled right up against the Rocky Mountains.
It wouldn’t be an Army post if I didn’t run on it.
Cheyenne Mountain looms in the background. When the evening light hits it, it seems taller and steeper than perhaps it is.
We are staying in Wilderness Barracks. The appellation is apt. They are named for Wilderness Road, the road that I now run along, but the occasional vehicle that passes by only proves the rule that we are far from the rest of Fort Carson civilization.
Prairie dogs are spectators to my run. They pop up and stare until I get within camera shot. I punctuate my cadence with attempt to snap a photo of the cartoonisth little critters. But they know my intentions and gleefully frustrate them, running headfirst into their burrows.
The terrain is reminiscent of northern Afghanistan. Even the smell brings back memories. Maybe it’s the sagebrush. Or probably the dust.
