Six Miles in Green River

Interstate 70 conveys about 4700 vehicles per day through Green River, UT.  It’s not the end of the world, but it’s at least 100 miles from sushi.  There are two exits for the hamlet, four miles apart.  Main Street connects those two exits, crosses the namesake tributary and covers about the same distance.  If you miss the exits heading west, you’d better have at least five gallons of gas in your tank to make it to Salina, the next exit with services.

The major motel chains are represented here: Best Western, Comfort Inn and Super 8 to name a few.  There are a few local mom and pop motels, the Shady Acres RV Park and a KOA.  At 5:15 AM several dozen long-haul truckers slumber in their rigs as their engines idle.  A diesel mechanic worth his salt could make a good living here.  The glow of the Conoco is visible from the moon.

A curious cast of souls pass through these parts: pensioners and Chinese visitors on tour buses, hunters, mountain bikers who make day trips to Moab and the odd family on their way to California to visit colleges and Disneyland.  Like when the Neanderthals and Homo Sapiens roamed the Earth at the same time, we’re similar in appearance, but have very different backgrounds and destinations.  We regard each other with curious disinterest. 

Could I live here?  I’d have to change my lifestyle a lot.  I’m not sure how the population of 1,000 would take to a dork in a Mercedes.  There are miles of trails to run here.  I could make the 50 mile drive to Moab and run the trails there for a change of scenery.  There is a high school track, so I could do intervals on a level, measured surface.  But I doubt I’d find a quorum of runners like I have in Denver and there wouldn’t be someone like Tim to beat up on. 

There is a great story about Deena Kastor when she moved to Alamosa, CO to train.  Her father came to visit her and said “What did we do wrong in raising you, that you enjoy living in a place like this?”  Deena said she was happy living there.  He said it's surrounded by nothing.  She said she was surrounded by everything.  She was surrounded by mountains and the sun shined on her 355 days a year.  It would be like that for me if I lived in Green River.  It is peaceful here.

I run the distance between the gas stations at either end of Main Street.  Beyond that, civilization ends, the desert takes over and who knows what wickedness lies out there.  I feel the elevation loss down to 4100 feet above sea level as I work through some striders.  A soft rain begins to fall and the pre-dawn sky crackles with lightning from the clouds drifting this way from the west. 

20 years ago Mary and I spent a long weekend camping and hiking in Canyonlands National Park near Moab.  At night I ran up, over, around and down the slick rock.  There were banked curves I ran like a velodrome.  In the evening we reclined on the rocks and watched the stars come out.  Living here would be nice, but I’m sure I’d get bored.  How many star-filled skies can you gaze up at?  I fuel up the van and head into the storm.