A Painstakingly Thorough Cataloging of All Emotions Experienced During a Static Peak Run

Excitement

I was buzzing at the Death Canyon trailhead, hopping up and down after the long drive. We had a solid crew of six, friends from both sides of Wydaho. Everyone was tying shoes and buckling packs and smearing on sunscreen and I wanted to RUN! 

Pics courtesy of Erin and Cy

Nostalgia

The miles passed in a blur. The smell of shale and serviceberry and pine needles and the feeling of sweating and running and power walking up loose pitches was so evocative of Tahoe, but the landscape was so unlike Tahoe, thick with rampant greenery, forested to 10,000 feet, ice cold melt feeding the stream that rushed through the canyon. 

Impatience

Our group had varied paces and I waited a lot. Somehow it was not too terrible, lying on a rock in the sun over some incredible vista, eating Oreos, unconcerned by the usual worries of temperature, time, or daylight. 

Hubris

Patrick, a freelance marketer for cool companies, commented that I could net a lot of free gear with my athleticism, my blog, and some more effort on the social media front. My ego puffed up like an airbag but quickly deflated. I have such conflicted feelings about social media and smartphones and the commodification of image. On one hand, I'm as much of a narcissist as anyone and would love the constant validation of having a real following, and the pleasure of possessing some good images of myself doing quasi-cool things. On the other hand, I feel like enough of a compliment-fishing dork sharing my blog, and feel uneasy with the emptiness of documenting every experience to further promote yourself instead of existing in the moment. I could write a treatise of indecision on the topic. 

Awe

I couldn't go five minutes without stopping and, with a manic grin, throwing my arms wide to absorb every bit of beauty. What an amazing world we live in. 

Joy

Cy and I were moving faster than the rest of the group so we opted to summit Static before the questionable clouds to the west shut us down. The views from 11300ft prompted from me a string of joyous profanities. After luxuriating in the panorama and taking pictures with American flags (that social media thing...) we picked our way back down to the saddle to hide from the wind. Our gang caught up and the skies cleared so we decided to rally for a second summit. Just as wonderful. 

Pride

I was peeing the whole day. This denotes unprecedented levels of hydration, even after I dug myself into a hole racing bikes and drinking in the sun the day before. 

Smugness

The final homeward stretch was clogged with couples and families going out for a holiday weekend hike. I sprinted past, uttering pleasant "Howdy!"'s and less pleasant "Scuz me!"'s when the groups blocked the trail like oblivious cattle. I felt so much cooler than them, dusty limbs and stripped down gear instead of wicking polos, Crossfit attire, and hulking overnight packs. But pausing at the gorgeous Phelps Lake overlook, I had to adjust my stupid localler-than-thou attitude. 

Gratitude

Hundreds of thousands of people come here to this sacred and breathtakingly beautiful place, traveling long distances in cars and planes to spend time in the stoney embrace of the Tetons. I live forty minutes away...ten as the crow flies...and I take it for granted too often. I can't wait to spend more days in the park, getting slapped in the face with majesty.