From ghosts to aliens...do you believe? Days 109-111

One of those days where you wish I had a pair of those trainers with wheels on that you see little kids buzzing around shopping malls with as there was going to be almost 3,000 feet of descending today, which meant warmer times ahead. The main themes for the day were William H. Bonney, or Billy the Kid, as there were a number of historic markers on the 70 that would tell of his exploits and if not ghost towns, then certainly lots of cool ghost buildings. Running wise, it was mostly a case of constantly looking at the pace indicator on my watch to make sure I wasn't going to quick. I've only really got an interest in pace as a self-preservation tool. If I'm behind in the day, I just try and be more efficient at breaks, as speeding up doesn't really to save a significant amount of time, but certainly contributes significantly to tiredness that and the next day. One of the early stops was a place called the Fox Cave – a disused gem mine that once served as an outlaw hideout (How cool!). We had a bit of a moment there as Nads really wanted to visit (as did I), but I didn't feel we had enough time to do it justice and I'd arrived at rhe RV weirdly more tired than usual and in a bit of a grump. I got on the road sharpish and tried to run myself into a better mood. The sun always helping, we passed through the settlements (often one-horse towns round here) of Glencoe (Population: I'm not sure apart from a shop) and San Patricio (Ransacked by a posse looking for that pesky Billy, now home to artist Peter Hurd) before we got to Hondo, which was the biggest of these places, home of the Eagles and a Western curio shop with a great line in signs. “Build the wall – where my wife can't go back” and “Bad decisions make great stories.” I can identify with that one. A gloriously Aussie-style named place called Tinnie was next up, which had a number of decidely ghostly looking buildings but was still very much alive and kicking with a new post office, fancy looking restaurant and fantastic metal sculptures rising into the sky near the old gas station. These were by a chap called William Goodman – have a quick google, they're pretty funky. In the fading light I reached my final little place, Picacho, where we'd decided to stay in the Post Office car park, as it seemed the easiest option. I'd loved my day of descent through these little pieces of history, both written and being written still, often in some really beautiful locations. The thing is with places like this, is you imagine seeing the run down buildings that the whole town is on the way out, but this is often just a case of someone moving away and not being able to resell that building. People build new, bring trailers. Life ebbs and flows in these areas with the times and I have grown to have amazing respect for people who tough it out, or even make steps to improve things. It's a bit like nature – life finds a way. In these cases it might not necessarily be on the highway for people like me and you to gawp at. I just wish I'd met a few of the people to tell their side. I bet it'd be a good listen.

Start: Apache Summit, US-70. Finish: Picacho Post Office. 41.8 miles. Day 109 Tune of the Day: First Aid Kit – Ghost Town. To the Bills. Bonney and Goodman and all the good people of the Hondo Valley. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j-_6FA7MYmY

No early morning Postman's knock, real or otherwise, but we got a move on fairly sharpish before he/she arrived to ask awkward questions. Another reason to get moving early was the earlier we finished, the earlier we would be in Roswell, the site of our proposed day off tomorrow. Well...when I say day off, I mean half day. Time wise. Not distance wise. That would be a 3/8th day off. A morning off, anyway. I'd also arranged an interview with Tim, from the Roswell Daily Record – the same paper that publicised the infamous Roswell incident of 1947, where an unidentified object landed in farmland nearby and the remains were taken to a nearby airbase to either be covered up/autopsied/acknowledged as a weather balloon, depending on what you believe. The date seemed a bit familiar to me for some reason, so I did some research and it happened the same year that David Bowie appeared on earth. I wonder...

The running, in all honesty was fairly unspectacular, with the last views of the hills disappearing behind and hints of vast plains opening up in front. This came with, excepting of a fairly big hump, a steady downhill and a nice spot for lunch – just by the Atlas intercontinental ballistic missile silos which apparently are empty no longer pointing at Mr Putin and are privately owned. Who buys these things? All types apparently, from people looking for a secure marijuana farm, to people building Doomsday condos. Whatever floats your nuclear submarine, I guess.

I met Tim for a quick interview in front of the International UFO Museum and Research Centre, obviously then trotted the last two miles past precisely no craft beer pubs. My Saturday night was going to be a quiet one, even with a 3/8th day off tomorrow.

Start: Picacho Post Office. Finish: Trailer Village RV Park, Roswell. 40.25 miles. Day 110 Tune of the Day: David Bowie – Starman https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sI66hcu9fIs

Roswell loves a good alien story. That's pretty fortunate as there were a lot of people in town looking for just that and the museum where I had my interview was first on our list. For the bargainous entry fee of $5 we were let in on the secrets. Now, as a scientist, I'll declare my position. I figure that in this infinite universe, the odds of there being life are in my opinion, fairly favourable. This life being intelligent, maybe less, but what is intelligence? That's another debate entirely, but there certainly COULD be a lifeform or...something that could theoretically be capable of travelling the many light years...but why do they always seem to be taking a look at a farmer's field in Idaho? So yeah, I'm probably a sceptic. I don't think they'd wear the look of man, as they're often reported to. However, the more you read the eye-witness accounts of a large number of responsible people, you start to wonder. Then the ridiculous explanations and evidence switching of the US air Force, including that the alien bodies were crash dummies that they used from 1954-1959 (Hang on, wasn't the “crash” in 1947) you start to really think that they could have been onto something. As my favourite approach to potentially stressful situations that I'm unlikely to unravel to a degree that satisfies me is to remain ignorant, I decided to move on. My absolute favourite bit of the whole exhibit though was one fella who'd been “abducted” before being arrested after a high speed police chase where he was topping out over 110mph, who said that the alien who'd picked him at alien speed dating previously was in the passenger seat alongside him, egging him on, but disappeared just as the police were walking up to his door. Priceless. There was also the fact that “Foo Fighters” were a real/imagined Nazi phenomenon, not just a band (Note: I am not suggesting that Dave Grohl is an imaginary Nazi). In an article someone used the phrase “There's no foo without fire”. Strange that hasn't caught on, eh?

Foo-d for thought indeed. We were hungry and I had 5/8ths of running to fuel for, so we headed to the Stellar Coffee Shop on Main, which was pretty stellar indeed. Alien hunters amongst you – take note for sustenance. Lacing (forcing) on my shoes, I set off with a full belly with the Rolling Stones in my ears, as suggested by Nads and Roswell began to fade into the distance, with the Double Eagle Ranch, home of the 2009 Kentucky Derby winner, “Mine That Bird” passing by on my left and the ornate metalwork sign of LA Ranch on my right. Seeing some wild deer is always a pleasure, especially with the sun starting to drop. On the last run of the day I had the peculiar situation where the road was so straight, with a dip, I saw Nads go past me at one mile, then watched her move 5 or so miles down the road and pull over. I thought it couldn't have been her, as I obviously didn't watch ALL the time, but sure enough, as I arrived, minutes after missing a great sunset behind me, there Jenny was, where my eyes had had a tough job of convincing my brain she was. It was starting to look a lot less like New Mexico, as if I'd been picked up and dropped hundreds of miles away. Surely not, but remember, the truth is out there.

Start: Trailer Village RV Park, Roswell. Finish: Highway 380, by a big pile of dirt. 25.4 miles (according to my watch, I don't know how long I was on that ship for). Day 111 Tune of the Day: Foo Fighters – Learn To Fly. Those alien fellas should have taken a few more lessons, I reckon. This video is an absolute beauty. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1VQ_3sBZEm0

Total: 3513.14 miles

Trying not to blow up. Days 106-108

I didn't feel as brave this morning in terms of my interstate brazenness so it was lucky that a path led from our drop off point last night to a dirt track to the side of it, which I mostly stuck to on the long 16 mile drag back to where we'd stayed the previous night. I had a harrowing text message from basecamp that the promised free pastries at the campsite had not materialised and I made do with a Twix and a Gatorade from a local services to console myself once my cross country adventure had finished. Such is life. The weather was at least dry, though still a bit on the chilly side, unlike my mood which had taken a turn for the better, helped in no small part by the messages of encouragement we had received over the last day and in the latter part of the run by a steady downhill to breakfast and then into Las Cruces itself. There, I met up with Steve Ramirez, a reporter from the Las Cruces Sun, who was a big runner a few years ago, with many marathons under his belt and also a real thing for Forrest Gump. He has THREE pairs of the original Nike Cortez, his nickname is Bubba and get this – he is four hours older than Tom Hanks. He knew all the quotes and I haven't had such back and forth quote banter since I was at university and Anchorman was out. We could run like the wind blows. In the limited time I had before Nads sent out a search party, I popped in at Run Culture, the local specialist running shop to meet Carlos and an enthusiastic customer and then it was lunchtime! I swear all I do is run and eat...and chat. Nads had an eye on visiting a local free space museum, set up by a chap who just loved space and wanted it to be free for all. Isn't that nice? I had an eye on a big old mountain that would take me out of Las Cruces, for the time being and down towards the White Sands National Monument. More on that later. It was a slog, but I seemed to fly up it, probably too quickly with my need for self-preservation and once at the top I was informed that I was now in White Sands Missile Range, not to take any photos and keep my beak out of any areas not on the road. OK. Off I went, down the road, merrily taking photos...I mean errr…not taking photos of the lovely snow peaked mountains, vast plains, mock-ups of rockets… Anyways, I digress. I'd kinda forgotten it was Valentine's Day, which to be fair is a bit of a sham anyway, but it was an excuse to go out for the night. We went to the High Desert Brewing Company (of course) where I only had four beers, all brewed on site (Oktoberfest, IPA, Brown ale and Black IPA) and a huge dinner (Nads took half of hers home for tomorrow!), but I definitely felt for the good of the run it was time to go home on slightly wobbly legs. This was after that Luke, our man for the night had presented Nads with a heart-shaped cheesecake on the house! Who says romance is dead?

Start: US Border Patrol Checkpoint nr. I-10. Finish: Jct of US-70 with County Road 213. 44.0 miles

Day 106 Tune of the Day: Bloc Party – This Modern Love. One for Valentines Day! I remember this putting all the hairs on my body on edge walking towards the Pyramid stage at Glastonbury when this was on a few years back – here it is! Look at the mud! Look how quickly they played it! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eT5cbCl6xGo

Super tired. So tired in fact I'd be dreaming about bed all day. The good points though were ace weather, a nice road to run on and a pretty flat expanse, laid out in front of me. Though we were already in the White Sands Missile Range, we were pointed in the direction of the White Sands National Monument, a huge expanse of pure white sand dunes, made of gypsum and not usual sand, which have the peculiar quality of not absorbing the sun's energy, so it's possible to walk barefoot on them in the height of summer. The closest I'd get, of course was a glimpse of them to the side of the road. I had a nice encounter at the White Sands Visitor Centre, in lieu of not being able to go and get amongst the dunes, due to time marching on and all that. I'd been recently overtaken by an RV, that I recognised in the car park, parked next to Jenny. A family was getting out and they were looking around...maybe at me? I said hi, in the way you would as a courtesy to someone going past, as I'm not self-important enough to assume they'd actually want to speak to my dishevelled mess of a man, but they did. “So then...where did you start?”. These guys were off on a big adventure themselves and dad was a bit of a runner so they were used to both living in a small space and smelly men! They felt Nads' pain! A few photos later and a lot of smiles, I headed in for lunch. It was a couple of standard runs to the park and one of the staff at the Holloman Air Base stopped for a photo on the way to work, grabbing it from the window of his car as he slowed right down, leaving with a cheery wave.

I had the luxury of third shower in consecutive days (a welcome and rare occurrence) and plonked myself down in a Lay-Z-Boy recliner in the clubhouse. Bliss. Watching a big widescreen telly, it felt like someone had just let me take over their house and I have a sense I may have done to an extent, when I met Wes, the proprietor, who was a great fella and K let him know just how welcome this luxury was. Dreams were soon to become reality and I retreated to bed, willing the replenishment of mind and body for the 24 mile climb that awaited tomorrow afternoon.

Start: Jct of US-70 with County Road 213. Finish: Desert Paradise RV Park, Alamogordo. 42.8 miles. Day 107 Tune of the Day: Sleeper – Inbetweener. Hearing the news of a reunion of one of my favourite teenage bands tinged with sadness as I won't likely be in the UK to see it. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fSplvCL__CU

Wes had let me know that we were on the flat to “Tulie”, AKA Tularosa, then it was 24 miles of an uphill grind. Not particularly steep, but enough to let you know it was always there – eating away at your stamina. This would take us to the highest altitude yet of the trip and I was trying to work out if it was the highest I'd ever been, not in a plane! Most of what I saw of Alamogordo was they typical fast-food chains and shops as I was on the main commercial drag, but it did reveal some of its eccentricities which I was grateful for – its posters and signs for the local Fighting Tigers sports teams, a toy train museum, the second largest roadrunner I've ever seen (Fort Stockton still in the lead!) and the coup de grace – the world's biggest pistachio (To go alongside Las Cruces' chilli)! Tularosa wasn't to be outdone, with two huge water tanks highlighting the success of the 2005 National team ropers and the State-conquering Widlcats who had a particularly fruitful 90's! School sport here is awesome. I love it. Another interesting footnote for the day was that Tularosa was less than 50 miles from the site of the first ever atomic bomb detonation, at the Trinity Site in the White Sands Missile Range. They used one for real three weeks later. That's just mind boggling.

Without further ado, the road started to curve upwards and soon enough the mighty Sierra Blanca mountain was looming – 80 miles in the distance. While I wouldn't have to get to the 12,00 foot high peak, I would have to get over the range, which ran through the middle of the Mescalero Apache tribe. The Mescaleros are obviously a very proud people, with street art depicting famous warriors, messages to treasure your life, family and people and messages of hope. I stuffed a few of them, figuratively into my back pocket and hoped they'd carry me up that hill. Head down, count out the miles, cheeky look around every now and again (i.e. unscheduled rest break) and the end will come. What did come was the cold. Looking through the trees you'd occasionally get a glimpse of snow and these glimpses were becoming more frequent. I saw Jenny parked about a half mile away and there was snow all around. I was warned on my approach that that snowball had better not come any where near Nads, so over my head it went. Maybe I was a bit giddy as we were at Apache Summit, 7,591 feet above sea level and beating my previous altitude record on this trip by about 1,700 feet. That'll do for today. The 6 miles or so to our rest stop just wasn't on my running radar. Jenny could run those miles.

Start: Desert Paradise RV Park, Alamogordo. Finish: Apache Summit, US-70. 40.77 miles. Day 108 Tune of the Day: Blondie – Atomic. Still can't get my head around the fact I ran past an actual atomic blast site. Blondie will cheer me up. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O_WLw_0DFQQ

Total: 3405.69 miles

Run on, through the wind. Run on, through the rain. Days 103-105

Yay! Lordsburg day! Beer will be there...won't he? The amazing El Charro cafe will fill me with burrito goodness and all will be well. Well Beer wasn't there. I waited at the train station for a whole five minutes. Mostly while I was wondering what to do as El Charro was closed. I was rescued by the revelation that I could listen to the Liverpool match via the club website and that was my next couple of hours sorted. Thank god we won, or that would have set my day on a right stinker of a course. My plan for the next couple of days was to find whatever road/track that flanked the I-10 and try to avoid going on that, if I could help it. I can't find any categorical definition of what I can and can't go on, so I'm on the seeking forgiveness path with that… After initially struggling down an irregular track with an uncanny ability to place a pointy stone right under the ball of my feet when I was touching down in shoes designed for a uniform surface, I eventually (thanks due to the gift of satellite maps) found that there was an immaculate gravel road on the other side of the train tracks that as ok, legally as well as physically, for me to run on. No traffic, apart from the odd mile-long train and nice and straight and flat. It was of course still nice to tear myself away to see Nads every now and again, especially at an old gas station with some great graffiti that reminded me of Melbourne. Ah...Melbourne. As the sun was off to bed, I crossed the Continental Divide for the second time. All the water drains from here to the Atlantic now. No turning back. Standard faff on my part meant a dark finish, so IronMan lights on, I coasted down a lovely quiet service road to a rest area, where Nads had already set up camp. Almost 45 miles on a day where most things went right. Apart from the start.

Start: Just past Jct of Highway 70 and State Route A024. Finish: NM Rest area, off I-10, just shy of Wilna.44.7 miles. Day 103 Tune of the Day: Dire Straits: Going Home. Inspired by Lordsburg and a great road trip song. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n3jjpUzCsXU

A good day was followed by a rough night. We were parked pretty far from the road, so I was hoping the inverse square rule was going to be my friend. However, the lack of any physical barriers to the I-10, the colossal volume of traffic, even in the early hours and a howling wind meant a restless one. All three of the culprits were still up to their trick as I got going and while the first two were of no consequence, the last one was. At least I found the exit to the service road in the light, rather than my barbed wire clamber in the dark of the previous day. This wind was as bad as anything, maybe even worse than the Morongo Valley day in California. Running on my rail track sneaky sneaky road until I found myself on a service road, I struggled with every step. Breakfast consisted of me moaning. It's so weird how much more this bothers me now than when I'm training for something like a race, where I'd love the wind and consider it strength training. It's all about getting to the end here, as fresh as possible, so this was making me a right barrel of laughs. One positive was being sandwiched on my service road by a mile long freight train, with trucks flying by on every side. This sounds pretty terrible, but it was how I imagined big stretches of the run. Real, working America, with me as an observer, a passing connection between the real world and the one I create through my music and thoughts for the future. A moment. Of course, then seeing a road sign asking me if I wanted Truth or Consequences, or Elephant Butte, stopped any real philosophy from dominating. Lunch consisted of me moaning even more as the wind was meant to get worse. Good news – it didn't! Bad news: It started belting down with rain. As I ran the last 10 miles in full on charlatan mode, as I was wearing a very waterproof Team GB jacket donated by Chris Finnill, who'd actually earned it, I was transformed to a day on the Yorkshire moors and half expected the Brownlee brothers to whizz past. The sight of Jenny parked up through the murk induced a more extreme version of “Jenny fever” where I seem to get 20 or so seconds quicker per mile, when she is in sight. One of the best places to be in a rainstorm for me is in a caravan, or now, our RV, so I got all cosy and waved two fingers to the elements over a big feed of sausages and mash. Have that.

Start: NM Rest area, off I-10, just shy of Wilna. Finish: Butterfield Dairy. 41.1 miles. Day 104 Tune of the Day: Rolling Stones - Gimme Shelter...or at least a break! Seriously though...what an absolute belter of a song. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8kl6q_9qZOs

Today was supposed to be the 100th day of full running and the first day of the second month of this leg. The 13th. High times indeed. I felt funny about something though. A sense of foreboding. I felt good, personally, so it wasn't that. It was Jenny. No fault of hers, the overnight rains had, as a riposte to my pretty good job of avoiding hypothermia, turned the parking spot into a bog. Pre-emptive measures of hastily gathered straw under wheels, and reversing, which appeared the best direction to go, were fruitless. We were well and truly stuck, even with 4WD. Adding insult to injury it was freezing cold and the second we were mired, it began to hammer down again. I ran to try and get help, eventually finding a nice local farmer who offered to get a tractor down, but gave no guarantees it wouldn't pull something off the front of Jenny and Nads was on the case of calling Coachnet (Our RV AA/AAA/RAC analogue) who were ace and sent someone down. As this was sorted I told Nads I had to go and hoped she was down with that. She was. Phew. It took me tens minutes to get my numb, swollen hands into my gloves and off I went, missing one of my headphone earbuds which had somehow gotten lost in the farce and mud. Meanwhile, one guy arrived to tow, quoted Nads an extortionate price and said in as many words “Do you want towing or not. I could leave you here”… You can guess how that went. Coachnet had already sent another company out and they did the job with a smile and efficiency. GOOD. I'd got myself 9 and a bit miles down the road, bumping into a couple of people who stopped to ask if I was ok, after seeing the RV at the side of the road (Thanks, guys!) and was rewarded for my efforts by sinking ankle deep into some mud as I crossed a road. I was drenched, feet wise anyway, so I just washed them in a puddle and splashed my way into the Apache Homelands Restaurant where I met the lovely Tammie and Connie who fed me roast beef and mash, listened to my gripes and we were soon joined by a local couple (Larry and Marie) who joined the chat and by the time Nads arrived, hungry as a bear, everything felt better. Mileage wasn't really the main thing now, so I didn't mind getting warmer while Nads ate. Come on Rob. Get on with it now. Big one. I got up and put down 18 miles in one go with minimal breaks, though the last few miles were a little fraught as this was full blown interstate running, finishing outside a Border Patrol station. We were pretty sure we could run on this stretch, but these roads aren't ever...relaxing, shall we say. On the way here, I saw my first cows actually lying down since I've been here (that thing about rain and cows must be true, mustn't it - despite my veterinary knowledge telling me it's coincidence that it was bucketing down?), wild deer and jackrabbits, racing into the distance away from this new, weird looking potential predator, but the best thing was...drum roll… IT'S A LONG WAY TO THE TOP (IF YOU WANNA ROCK AND ROLL) coming on shuffle for the first time on the whole run. About 500 hours of music, so about 6,000 songs and this had hidden for so long. The thing is, like an end-of-level boss, it's unlocked a bonus – I will now allow myself to just have ACDC shuffle days, now the dam has been breached. This means everything will be alright, I'm sure. Let's draw a line under his chapter and be glad we got over a marathon out of it.

Start: Butterfield Dairy, Deming. Finish: US Border Patrol Checkpoint, nr. I-10. 27.5 miles

Day 105 Tune of the Day: Many of Horror – Biffy Clyro. Strange choice, given the obvious opportunities for other songs given the topics of the day and the late appearance of you know what, but in the absence of music for my first run, it was a constant ear worm from a great band, that started the improvement in my mood. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Lh3LocS_Bh8