Lola’s Last Road Trip: A trek across the Southwest US

Full disclosure: I do use modes of transportation other than running while traveling. Also this post board lines “I’m in love with my car guy” story. But my cute little hatchback Lexus, affectionately named Lola, has easily been runner up to my own two feet as ways of getting around. As my first big girl purchase after paying off my student loans, working nearly illegal overtime hours at my first big girl job in a hospital laboratory - Lola represented something so much more than just a vehicle for getting from point A to point B.  She was proof of hard work and perseverance. A “hey look at me now” after driving around my beat up hand me down falling apart cocoa brown GMC Jimmy for much of my adolescent years. Something to make the Minnesota winter morning work commutes a little more enjoyable, and safer.

But did i ever really want a ~Lexus~ ? All its fancy bells in whistles. “Luxury” status? Not to mention all the responsibility all that comes with driving a car that is basically a giant computer on wheels? Through and through, this car was not me - and I think that’s why I loved her even more. The amount of sand encrusted in her leather seats, the constant need for a car wash and the amount of times Lola was towed for either illegal parking or loss of vehicle keys is embarrassing. I did not deserve this car. But times were tough for car dealers, or anyone trying to sell anything during the peak of covid, and I copped this beauty for well under market value during a time when I could fill her 8 gallon hybrid tank for less than fifteen dollars. After bouts of buyer’s remorse that kept me up at night for weeks, I finally began to settle into life with Lola and form a bond.

This car lived a freaking life. From her early life Minnesota snowstorms and cruises up the Lake Superior North shore - packed to the brim with camping gear that never got used and instead served as shelter herself - Lola was primed to be an adventure vehicle. Not too long after, I made a road trip all the way out to Connecticut with Lola. We passed through enough toll booths and spent as many nights in a New York City parking ramp that a first class plane ticket would have been a comparable financial option. A few months later, Lola became bicoastal with a road trip out to Oregon. Passing through the Badlands, Grand Tetons, and Crater Lake National Parks. Shortly after, we passed through two more National Parks, Arches and Zion, after we made the semi-permanent move west to San Diego, California where she got a change of plates. From here, Lola made multiple trips up Highway 1 to San Francisco, through Big Sur, Carmel by the Sea and countless Southern California Beach towns. She even made it to the Grand Canyon and had a night out on the lot in Vegas. When I saw mine and Lola’s time in San Diego coming to a pause, I thought it would be best to drive her home to be with family, parked safely in my parents driveway instead of burdening my California friends, none of whom in the sad reality of the cost of San Diego-living, have drive-ways of their own, with checking on my car every few days to ensure she hadn’t be towed (again).

So in another two-pot coffee caffeine fueled craze - I got out the google calendar, in tow with google maps and started scheming Lola’s return home. After hours of head-spinning logistical work, I devised a plan. Since Lola had already been the Colorado route, I wanted to try something new and check a few states off the list. So the plan went, California, Arizona, New Mexico, Texas, Louisianna, Mississippi, Tennessee, Arkansas, Missouri, Illinois, Wisconsin, Minnesota. Whew! Twelve States; four of them new. One week. One girl. One car. A bazillion audiobooks queued up to keep me from going insane.

The goal was to try to run a mile in every state along the way. Things did not go according to plan. In fact, the ultimate goal was to eventually have Lola to return to for more adventures after wherever the next car-less adventure might take me. This I would soon learn, would also not be part of the plan. But here’s the snip its that did work out quite pleasantly if you ever care to embark on such a journey and need some creative ways to stretch your legs.

Las Cruses, New Mexico

I can’t speak much for the town of Las Cruces itself, except the adorable Hostel I stayed at, but I can absolutely rave about the National Park here that makes this desert hub worth the trip. The White Sands National Park had been on my bucket list for a while. I’m not entirely sure what the appeal was - maybe just to check another NP and state off the map? The fact that I have never been disappointed by a National Park? Some type of different scenery that I haven’t seen before? All were partially true but White Sands was definitely more than just an “Okay, saw it” road trip stop. Driving into the park down a straight-shot, middle-of-the-desert road, I saw what looked like mounds of freshly fallen snow come into view in the distance. Pulling into the visitors center parking lot, up close the dunes look no different, especially with tourists renting snow sleds and toboggans to slide down them, just as one would if it were 70 degrees Fahrenheit cooler.  In early July, the temps soared to a sweltering 90 degrees already by 11 am, making the snow illusions even more eerie. I grabbed a map at the welcome center and pinpointed my running trail - “Nice! There’s something that’s a flat 5 mile loop. That perfect” I thought to myself as drove towards the opposite end of the park, Lola’s air conditioning struggling to keep up.

There is essentially only one road through the park. If you follow it for fifteen minutes, you’ll pass by a handful of trail heads that lead to hikes less than a mile long, then eventually reach Alkaline Flats. Outside of the back-country hiking, this is the longest trail at the park. “Trail” might even be too loose of a term for it. You can embark on your journey almost directly from the parking lot. At the trailhead, you’ll see a sign warning of heat exhaustion, dehydration and then, oh contrary to popular belief, this trail is NOT flat. “Flat” here is referring to the geographical feature that is a salt flat. My bad. Despite the warnings, I took off determined to finish the whole loop anyway - skin slathered white with sunscreen and my running vest filled to the brim with water and emergency snacks. Less than a mile in, I realized not many others were willing to take the risk as I wandered around out there a lone soul.

Lola (still alive)

I’m so glad I did though. Running from the orange pylon to orange pylon trail markers, I felt like I was on the moon! Cruising up and down rolling white dunes, I was surprised by how packed the sand was. I was expecting it to feel more like an impossible beach run in loose sand, but it was surprisingly supportive and how some cool to the touch. I did, however, give up the running around mile two, starting to panic a bit about the possibility of heat stroke after coming to the realization that there was absolutely no shade, cell service and very sparse human activity. The run became more of a, hike up a dune, run down, hike up, run down… until finally reaching Lola waiting for my in the parking lot. Man, was I glad to see her and whatever little bit of AC she could provide.

Austin, Texas

Howdy Austin! Wow, did I ever forget what humidity feels like. Texas had no trouble reminding me. I made it on one and a half runs before I decided that water sports were a better option in this southern heat. Maybe you’ll visit at a cooler time of year though and have a more pleasant experience on these routes that I embarked on.

I really did not set myself up for success with this route. 4pm, peak heat, sun beating down…. I could have made better choices. But I did want to go before meeting some of my Outsite coworking mates at the Cosmic Pickle (Btw, if you haven’t heard of Outsite for solo traveling as a digital nomad, you have to check them out). So there was a bit of social pressure with this run as well. Starting from the Travis Heights Outsite - I wandered my way over to the river where I was very happy to find a shaded running path along the shores. Here I spotted tons of kayakers, paddle boarders and swimmers alike! I made it all the way to Barron Springs before calling it quits as I neared heat stroke. Here I called an Uber to bring to me my Tommy want Wingy pick-me-up, but not before taking note of my paddling route for tomorrow’s post-work activity instead.

Another Outsite member mentioned this running group to me that they had found on at app called SweatPals. The app posts tons of local events that host group meet ups for all kinds of athletic activities. This run group, Morning Jo’s, meets at 6am Tuesday mornings, close by where I was staying in Travis Heights, so I figured I’d give it a go. An added perk of the still-dark start, it was slightly less humid (emphasis on slightly). The group of nearly 100 joiners (everything really is bigger in Texas) meets at Jo’s Coffee on Congress Street, and takes off for a social run, breaking into various pace and distance groups. I met lots of friendly people to share seven miles with, while exploring a new city, chatting about previous and upcoming races we had in common. As big as this group might have been, the running community is still so connecting, making it easy to find common ground with runners all over.

Not a run, but long enough distance to be strava worthy. When I left the EpicSUP rental dock at 4pm, I asked the front desk employee how long it would take to get to Barron Springs - the surprisingly aqua blue river waters that I had envied on my torturous run the day prior. Barely looking up the guitar he was lazily strumming behind the checkout counter, he peered at me through his dreadlocks and mumbled exhaustedly “You’re not gonna make it there before we close at 8pm. It’ll take three hours just to get there.” Oh I was making it there, I thought to myself. Maybe if I had just smoked as much marijauna as this young man, it would take me that long, but certainly not me! I am fast. And fast I was - on the way there. Passing the Austin city skyscrapers, riverbank beaches, and the biggest freshwater turtles I had ever seen, I laughed to myself in Dreadlock’s face as I looked at my watch when reaching Barron Springs - 1 hour and 45 minutes. Not bad at all. I even had time to relax and second hand party off the vibes of others enjoying the spring with music speakers and booze. I dangled my feet in the refreshingly crisp and clear water, proud of my obviously superb paddle boarding skills.

Then it was time to head back. As I exited the creek and turned back onto the river - I realized that the way home to the rental center was up stream. Okay fine - there’s hardly a current, but the wind! Where did that come from! Long struggle short, I was about two seconds from allowing a riverboat cruise of rowdy tourists pick me up as they passed by, offering to throw me cans of beer. Tempting, as I was absolutely parched, my lips even wind chapped at this point, but I had a point to prove to Dreadlocks. Boy, was he stoked when I paddled into the rental dock with 5 minutes to spare, beaming from ear-to-ear that, I did, in fact, make it to my intended destination and back in time. Take that.

New Orleans, Louisiana

Even though the Texas heat nearly killed me, I was determined to get at least one run in in a city known for its intensely humid summers. So much so that my friend who was supposed to join be ended up bailing with the very valid excuse of “I don’t want to be sticky.” But apparently I wanted just that. Starting from Canal Street, I meandered my way to Lafitte Greenway. This lead me down through a park and down a nicely shaded pedestrian path, complete with the cutest little coffee shop, French Truck Coffee, that I was tempted to stop at and call it quits at. I managed to press on however, and was greeted with a street of beautiful historic colorful houses after exiting the greenway. This street eventually led me to New Orleans City Park, filled with enough weeping willow trees and a charming stone bridge covered ponds to remind of the paddleboat scene in from the Notebook. Best of all the, infamous Cafe du Monde has a location here - and a lot less crowded than the busy bourbon district location. The classic beignets and chicory coffee were the perfect post-run treat, well, that and the Uber ride back to my hotel.

After freshening up for a Fourth of July out on the town - I wandered Bourbon Street and was immediately overstimulated. For an alternative to the bars blasting music so loud at 2pm that your ears might explode - Head towards Frenchmen Street for a more laid back vibe with incredible jazz bars. My friend recommended the Spotted Cat Music Club where I fell in love with the Chris Chrissy band, and was exactly the change of pace I needed. I passed the remainder of the evening with a haunted pub crawl, a great option for solo travelers to spend a night out but with the safety of a group. We were also able to catch Fourth of July fireworks along the river - watching sparks fly over the red, white, and blue decked-out riverboats; a very class Southern American charm to top off the holiday. Before heading out the next morning, I met my new pub crawler friends for breakfast at Molly's Rise and Shine in the Garden District before continuing my trek up the Mississippi.

Tennessee to Arkansas

Memphis honestly only caught my attention for a stop when I learned that there was a pedestrian bridge, part of the Big River Crossing project, that allows you to run from Tennessee to Arkansas. Anything that allows me to check off running in two place at once, count me in. Starting from the free parking on the Memphis side of the bridge, I made an easy, not-even three miles out-and-back run along the lovely covered bridge that spans the Tennessee-Arkansas state line. From the bridge, you’ll have views of the Memphis skyline in one direction, and the view of lush green Arkansas fields in the other. A short run, was the perfect way to break up another 8 hour stretch of driving. I stopped in downtown Memphis itself to walk around Tom Lee Park along the river with an iced coffee I grabbed at TalkShop before hitting the road to Missouri.

St. Louis, Missouri

I'd been told St. Louis gets a bad rep for being unsafe, so I was a bit nervous about making a stop here but what this city showed me was so far from the expectations! I had less that 24 hours in here, but that allowed me time for 8 hours of sleep after 8 plus hours of driving, bland AirBnb coffee and a run through one of the nicest US city parks I had ever seen. Forest Park is filled with running paths, tennis courts, freshly groomed, grassy fields, quaint creeks with river bridge crossings and even various museums. It was so nice to see so many people out and moving on a fresh Saturday morning. I wandered through the park for a casual two mile stroll, then took Lola to the infamous Gateway arch.

The Gateway Arch is actually National Park, did you know that? I certainly did not until I showed up at the front entrance sign and was pleasantly surprised to find that I can check another off the list. Even better, the entrance is free, though you will likely have to pay for parking in downtown St. Louis to access the park. I didn't have time to take the elevator to the top of the the arch itself, but I'm sure the views were fantastic. The park surrounding the Arch itself is beautifully landscaped, well kept and a peacefully quiet. On the beautiful summer day, it was perfect for a short stroll with an iced coffee to go from one of the many street vendor carts surrounding Luther Ely Smith Square before heading in. What started as an obligatory road trip stop ended up being one of the most underrated stops of the trip.

Milwaukee, Wisconsin

No runs here, but Kayak counts for something in Strava. This stop in Milwaukee was a bit of a detour to see my best friend from college who happens to live in this Midwest city. Renting kayaks was the perfect Sunday afternoon activity for a long overdue catch up. We launched from The Twisted Fisherman after enjoying a quick drink, and paddled towards downtown Milwaukee, passing tons of other riverfront bars, restaurants and booze cruises alike. Milwaukee is another underrated city, IMO. It has so much character and so much to do whether its brewery tours, bar hopping on waterstreet, spending a day at Bradford beach, checking out the Milwaukee Art Museum, exploring the Historic Third Ward or biking along the 135 miles of Oak Leaf Trail system, there’s something for every pace of a weekend. Little did I know leaving Milwaukee, that my pace was about to be slowed way down on the last leg of my trip back to my Minnesota hometown.

After saying goodbye to my dear friend, I set off good old I-90. A road I had traveled long distances many times driving back and forth between my college town of la crosse and home, or towards other Wisconsin college towns to visit friends for long weekends. I was so happy to be finishing up my road trip and very much looking forward to sleeping in my childhood bed at my parents house by 10pm. Manageable. I even made sure to make a stop at Kwik Trip, my loyal Wisconsin gas station, to grab a few snacks on the go. All was going well. I spent a lot of time reflecting on my journey so far. The people I met, the places I discovered. The solitude of a lot of it and the things I learned about myself. Thirty hours driving solo gives you a lot of effing time to think about your life. I’m not exactly sure what thought I was deep within, however, when I saw a pair of beady, yellow eyes lurking from the side of the pitch-dark highway, ready to lun.

DEER!! Oh god please no, don’t jump out in front of me!! I started honking my horn, flashing my brights, slammed on my breaks, but that stupid effing deer decided it really needed to cross the road at that very moment and - BAM. Right into Lola’s hood. I’m sure I screamed upon impact - but pulling over to the side of the road I remember being speechless in terror, trying to process what had just happened. My barely functioning hazard lights were the only sign of civilization in the middle of nowhere Wisconsin. Unable to open my driver’s side door, I crawled out from the passengers side to assess the damage. Oh my poor baby Lola’s front was crunched up like an according. I shed a few tears for her before calling my dad, before 911 as always, in a sheer panic.

Lola (Dead).

After a series of phone calls with the police, Lexus roadside assistance and the one and only old college acquaintance I knew in the area as a shot in the dark for help, I found myself on a two-hour tow truck ride with a complete stranger back to Minneapolis, where my parents would be waiting to pick my up from the tow yard that my precious Lola would be left for dead at. That two hour tow felt longer than my entire week-long journey. I had been So close to home! Of course! Thousands of miles and this would happen with less than one hundred to go. I was furious and shaken and annoyed and exhausted.

But then the feelings of anger began to give way to gratitude. How fortunate to have this happen so close to home instead of middle of nowhere Mississippi where I’d have absolutely no one to call for help. How lucky am I to have parents I can depend on to pick me up in the middle of the night. What a relief that the tow truck driver was a decent human instead of having to endure the terrifying and uncomfortable situation I was anticipating being a young female picked up on the side of the road by a strange man in the middle-of-nowhere in the middle-of-the-night. Above all, how lucky am I to be alive! There were a thousand other horrible outcomes to this story. While I was deeply sadden when my insurance company gave me the final verdict that Lola was a total loss, I don’t think she could have gone out with a better bang - literally.

The accident was really symbolic in a way. Making this massive move across the country with the intention of moving to another country, was like closing a chapter for me. But not the chapter of my life in San Diego - I know San Diego will always be there for me. Leaving wasn’t a goodbye. Leaving was more the end of this era of constant movement and wanting complete independence to do whatever I want, whenever I wanted to. I’ve always been a big lover of solo travel and having freedom to explore on my own. But a one week journey with a car as my only consistent companion got lonely, even despite meeting wonderful people along the way. It was all fleeting. And I thought this was what I wanted for sometime again. To travel around the US, just me and Lola.  But I realized in my solitude that while alone time is essential, adventures are best shared with those we care about. Even the smallest of adventures, such as going to the grocery store, with the right person can be that much more fulfilling. Three-thousand miles of solo driving later, I realized that I’m at a point in my life where I crave a human constant. A community where I can have roots and people that share my values. Without Lola to come back to, the accident in this way pushed me further in this direction of a place I would love to grow roots - at least for a while. Because as I also learned, all the planning in the world can’t prevented the expected. Lola’s three-thousand mile journey is just a blip in the road yet to be traveled - but a pretty impactful one at that.