The Aftermath

I have trouble slowing down.

I’m typically not one for naps, and I almost constantly have a list of 10-15 things that I need to get done each day.

Not this past week.

The Rocky Mountains have a reputation for melting my heart. If I told you that while doing my 14 mile run last weekend in the heart of the mountains, that tears of joy welled up in my eyes…would you believe me?

Because that’s the truth. I’m pretty sure I had a half grin on my face most of the run, and I’m not ashamed to admit that. My lungs burning from the altitude, but my body slowly recalling why it is that I love this sport in the first place. Back in the place where my running love initially bloomed.

There’s just something about the mountains. Waking up not to an alarm, but to silence. Starting your day as slowly as you see fit, on the porch, coffee in hand, staring face to face with God’s beautiful creation.

I believe that nothing rivals that.

Not having an agenda, taking naps at will and getting more fresh mountain air than you could ever bargain for.  

Paddling down miles of Class 3 Rapids and not feeling fear, but a combination of exhaustion and elation. Finishing the day with sunburnt cheeks, and a cold beer in hand. Spending three plus hours hiking up to an elevation of over 12,000 feet and sucking air like it’s your job, yet standing in awe of the miles of mountains laid out before you at the top.

the three brothers, youngest to oldest by coincidence. And of course Lori :)

When I originally wrote this post, wrapped in a blanket on the front porch of the cabin, letting the coolness of the morning envelope me (something I had not felt in months) humming birds were zipping to and from the nearby flowers to grab some nectar. And I couldn’t hear anything but the faint sound of cars, and the chirping birds and chipmunks.

I would say that the week in general made me want to chirp along. Because it’s days like I just described, sacred places like that which remind me how necessary it is to slow down. To listen, to smile. To think, reflect and be so darn thankful.

me and my main man. 12,200 feet.

Yet as of now, it's a week later and I’m back on the East Coast. And I can say that I'm glad to be back. 9 days is a long time to travel, and although we made some awesome memories, I was more than ready to get back into a routine.

More thoughts later.  For now, Cheers!