Last week canyon residents were chagrined to discover a marathon race was planned down the highway on Sunday morning. The organizers claimed they would be running in the 'bike lane.' There is no bike lane, and since the flood, there is barely a shoulder to the highway. I complained to the county that there had been no notice so residents could plan their day and avoid the traffic snarls.
The race started at 6 a.m., 7 miles from here, and by the time I got up to the highway at 7:30, this is what I saw:
The front runners had apparently passed, and I was most likely looking at the mid-pack. Some of them greeted me, but most of them acted like they were in their zone on some other planet.
The next day I read in the paper that they didn't like the course as well because it was all downhill, and they had to brake their pace.
Here is the river below my gate.
That big rock was probably put there when the river was rebuilt in 1976, and this time it was moved a few feet to the side by heavy equipment that was removing flood debris.
Also from the gate, looking upstream. My house is around that bend.