If Turkeys Could Fly

Wait, that's chickens that can't fly. Turkeys can fly, can't they? I can't fly. And I'm a turkey. At least that's what people tell me.

"So, Trevor, what are your plans for Thanksgiving? Going to see your family?"

"No, actually, I'm headin down to the Grand Canyon for Thanksgiving weekend."

"Oh, really? Wow... Why the Grand Canyon?"

"Well, it's kinda become a Thanksgiving tradition of mine. I've gone down there the past two years on Thanksgiving weekend to run across it and back and it's just become tradition."

"You turkey."

So you see, if this turkey could fly, then maybe I wouldn't have to run the 24 miles across on trail and instead fly the direct 10 miles across to the North Rim and back. Flight would be a tremendous benefit to this bird. But then again... I'd miss out on everything to experience whilst on ground. The flora, the fauna, the smells of the mule train an hour after they passed down the trail. Nah, give me my two feet and I'll gladly run, hop, skip, and skitter my way along the trail for 13 hours.

And although I'll have different company this year, the tradition lives on.

Thanks, Meghan, for suggesting two years ago what I thought at the time was a ridiculously impossible idea.

"WHAT?! Are you nuts!? Run across the Grand Canyon?! AND BACK?! In one day?! Hah! Yeah right. There's no way I could do that. And besides... Why?"

Well, I guess those days are gone...