
Somewhere along my 10+ mile canyon run this morning, my key fob went MIA. I doubled back for half a mile when I realized it was gone, but no luck. It had to be on a 2.5 mile stretch between Timp Caves and the mouth of the canyon, and I knew I'd just have to walk it to find it. Any runner's high was brought low on the spot, knowing that I'd have to head home and go look later.
In the afternoon, while on the way back up the canyon to retrieve my car and driving super slow to see if we could spot the key, Craig pulled over to let some speedier cars pass. I hopped out, thinking maybe I'd seen something, but after walking the 20 yards back, determined it was just a few rocks I'd seen in passing. Then I turned around and not ten paces back to the car, right at my feet, so close to the ahphalt that I'd never have seen it from the car window, I saw my key.
And then I cried. Because that's just what I do.