I was exhausted, tired and dammit my feet hurt. I was trudging through dry grasslands not sure of why I had even decided this was a good idea. I was in the foothills of the mighty Santa Rita Mountains South of Tucson, walking along the Arizona Trail bound for Kentucky Camp, under the shadow of Mount Wrightson and just a couple small towns and a few dozen miles from the Mexico border. I had put myself through an ordeal and at the end of the day had absolutely nothing to show for it except a stinging, biting DNF. No, this was not the 2013 Old Pueblo Endurance Run, I am rewinding back to April 2011 when I …
