There will come a time gigantic
Waves will crush the junk that I have saved
When the moon explodes or floats away
I’ll lose the souvenirs I made
La la la…

— Frederick Mark Linkous

—

Summer in Phoenix is like living in a pizza oven, except you don’t get pizza afterwards. When the low rarely drops below 90 and the high reaches a level that can’t be measured with conventional meteorological devices, running outside can be tricky.

We have a lot of dummies who go out on the trails undertrained and underhydrated in the dog days, leading to constant rescues that put first responders in peril. As a result, several of our most popular trails are closed when things get too toasty.

That’s an annoyance for those of us who have spent years acclimating and know how to take care of ourselves. Stan Fletcher said it best in his Instagram post in late June.

The bottom line: People who don’t know better ruin it for those of us who do.

So what’s left when Camelback and Piestewa are closed? The trusty trails of South Mountain, of course. Rugged, exposed, desolate. But not a problem for those of us who know our limits.

That’s where Stan went Saturday. The beloved National Trail. Ridiculously hot day, but he posted last month that when he hikes “I take 5-6 liters of water, depending on my rig. I’ve never felt the slightest bit faint or sick in any way.”

I’m with him. I’ve been out on the trails in the summer a bazillion times. Just a matter of listening to your body and pacing yourself. I think of running in the heat like altitude training in the desert. If you can get out there in 110 degrees, then October’s races are a breeze.

A hiker for 30 years, he set out at 5 a.m. His family lost contact with him that afternoon, and reported him missing.

A cyclist found Stan’s body Saturday evening alongside the trail. No official cause yet, but investigators said the circumstances appeared consistent with a heat-related or medical emergency. Richard “Stan” Fletcher was 61.

Today wasn’t quite as hot, thanks to an overnight thunderstorm. I walked fearlessly into the 100 degree heat, now with humidity in the mix, for my morning run.

Which was inside the cool climes of the SCC gym.

I guess Stan died doing what he loved, and there’s much to be said for that. But I’d rather put it off for 10 more years, or at least until the 12 hour run in Buckeye at the end of August. Surely the weather will be pleasant by then.

Mostly, I am reminded that things happen. You do your best, you roll the dice, you cross your fingers. I hope they have great trails wherever Stan is now.

And I hope that when you die, you get pizza afterwards.