I went to bed around 8:30 the night before the race, my alarm set for 2:30AM so I could eat something and drive an hour to the finish line, catch a shuttle bus to the start line and be ready for the 5:30AM start. I got to the starting area at Fashion Island around 4:30 and waited. The people watching was great. There were runners in costume, clubs, groups of friends, some bundled up in parkas, and some wearing next to nothing. I was lonely in a sea of people. Lining up in the starting chute, I was amazed by the mass of people pushing towards the front - “Do all these folks think they are going to have a shot at winning? All I want to do is finish.” When the starting horn went off, it seemed like ten minutes passed before we started to move, walking at first and then picking up speed. “Don’t fall” I told myself as I dodged around others and tried to get out of the way of those coming from behind.

The hills near my home in Riverside had made me strong and the course mostly fell in elevation for the first five miles followed by a short climb and then around mile 7 or 8 I stopped at my Mom’s house where she was waiting out front to say hi and get a few words of motherly encouragement - she’s run a few marathons herself! Not long after, the leaders of the half-marathon started to come through even though we had an hour’s head start! These guys were moving! Around mile 12, I was feeling good, in my groove when I saw the half marathoners peeling off towards their finish. I hadn’t studied the course much further than this and now I was getting a little discouraged. “If I was running the half, I’d only be a mile from the finish, but now I’m not even halfway!” Every mile seemed to stretch longer and longer. Every turn took me further and further from the finish line. “At some point, we’ve got to turn back towards the line.” Honestly, without the spectators cheering and waving signs, I don’t think I would have made it. I thanked them as I ran by - I knew they weren’t out there for me, they had signs with someone else’s name, but they cheered anyway and it helped.

Finally, the course reached the Santa Ana River trail and turned back towards the coast. Around mile 20 I passed a sign that read 5 miles to the beach. “You mean, I could get to the beach quicker than I can get to the finish?” We wound through neighborhoods I didn’t even know existed and then all of a sudden, I was crossing Harbor Boulevard by the Cadillac dealership - now I know where I am. I had been running and walking for a while, but now I seemed to be walking and running. When I reached the entrance to the Fairgrounds, I reverted back to more running, past throngs of people wearing their finisher’s medals, cheering me on - some of them even calling out “You can do this Eric!” “How do they know who I am?” Almost to the final curve, I saw the lady with the blue-dyed hair I had been swapping spots with and the girl with the yellow skirt and ponytail ahead of me - good for them. I just wanted it to be over. I was shuffling along, barely lifting my feet off the ground, but I kept repeating “Keep moving forward.” Now I’m on the final stretch, collecting high-fives from the crowd lining the way, looking out for my wife and son and overcome with joy when I spot them. I jogged through the line and finished. Five hours and sixteen minutes on the course, but Eighteen weeks from the start.

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Michael’s life story and adventures spill over into his writing, and it is from these insights I think he would enjoy hunting birds. Here is why:

1. He has a hunting dog. Michael’s new German Shorthair Pointer Duke is probably a natural hunter and with minimal training will be a great bird dog. The joy of following a dog around the desert watching it run with purpose, intent on finding the scent of game is incredible. When your dog slams on the brakes from a full speed run to a staunch point, it takes your breath away!

2. The landscapes. We know that Michael enjoys long hikes and trail running in the desert around his home in Las Vegas. Bird hunting just gives those long walks a purpose and focus as you start to look for signs of quail and chukar and listen for their calls.

3. Random reward schedule. You never know if you are going to find the birds or not. You never know if you are going to be good enough to hit one and find it. The reward of seeing birds is great, bringing a few home feels like you’ve hit the jackpot, but it doesn’t always happen - that is why it is hunting, not grocery shopping.

4. The food. Wild game is delicious, even better when you have harvested it yourself.

5. Rucking. A hunting vest is just another form of a rucksack - when hunting in the desert, I’ll regularly carry close to twenty pounds of water and gear in my vest. A half day of hunting for me is usually 3-6 miles covered with 1-2000’ of elevation, not a bad form of exercise. You certainly have to watch your footing as you navigate off trail, mentally keep track of your route, adding to the adventure.

6. Community. You can certainly hunt solo or just you and your dog, but adding a friend or two is fun also and adds camaraderie and bonding to your day. The Quail Forever chapter in Southern Nevada is growing from what I hear and they have all kinds of off-season projects you can help with too.

7. Curiosity. As a hunter, I am always wondering what’s over the next ridge, why are there no birds where I found them last time, what are they eating, etc… Bird hunting feeds my natural curiosity.

So Michael, are you ready to give it a try? Let me know. I am not an expert by any means but I’d love to take you and Duke out sometime.

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