There is a saying that “old habits die hard”.  This is possibly an overstatement, and it might not apply to everybody.  But it is a powerful statement of inertia that applies to a large segment of the population.  A major stress factor, such as the discovery of a new food allergy or the loss of a job, can change people’s habits rapidly and decisively.  However, in the absence of some kind of major push, most people’s habits will change slowly or even not at all.  It is for this reason that bad habits like watching too much TV, engaging in frequent unprotected sex with strangers, and even smoking can persist for decades.

I would not consider the habit I am referring to as a bad one.  It is mostly just annoying to some people around me.  It all started in the 8th grade when I became somewhat obsessed with football.  A typically Sunday for me that fall I would not only watch a couple of NFL games, but I would also watch the pre-game show at 11 A.M., as well as NFL Primetime at 6 P.M.  On any given Sunday, I’d watch as much as 8 hours of football!

This also caused me to put off too much of my schoolwork.  Then one November weekend, I suddenly realized that I had a major Science project due and I was running out of time to complete it.  That Friday evening, I came home from school knowing that I would have to scramble to finish this project on-time, and calculated that I would have almost no time for anything else that weekend.  My parents were disappointed in me, and actually feared that my grades would suffer because of it.

That weekend’s weather was especially nice, with high temperatures reaching 70 on Sunday.  Sometime on Sunday my father reminded me that this would probably be the last 70-degree day until April.  As a weather tracker from a young age, this was a fact that I was already well aware of.  But, it was something I had not been thinking about through all of this.  At this time, my father was just trying to be a good parent, and inform me that procrastination had consequences.  But the sudden reminder, that it would be at least three, and up to five months before weather like this would return prompted me to go outside that minute, even though I knew all I could afford was a 10-15 minute break from my work.

The previous winter was my first in Illinois, and it was quite harsh!  Not only had I just moved from Long Island, New York, a place with milder winters, but that winter was harsh for Chicago area standards too!  Temperatures were significantly colder than their long-term averages, particularly in January and February.  I recalled seeing a snowpack persist for over five weeks, something I had never seen before, and school was closed a couple of days due to extreme temperatures (below -20).  It was quite a shock for me, and something I did not enjoy.  Feeling that fresh air, and knowing that these ten minutes would be all I get for such a long time made me regret my obsessive watching of football in a way I had never regretted anything before.  It was that day that I realized that I cared significantly more about activities that I personally participate in than watching professional sports (or anything on TV).  I did not completely give up on watching professional sports that day.  But, since that day I’ve have had a clear understanding of where my priorities lie.

The winter that followed would be modestly mild for Chicago standards.  But, it was still colder than the ones I remembered in New York, and there were still very few days warm enough to be enjoyable for outdoor activities.  It was enough to cement in me the lessons I learned that November day.  I would spend seventeen more years in the Midwest, in either Illinois, Indiana, or Wisconsin.  Only one winter season would be more oppressively cold than that first one (and I was in Wisconsin- a colder place overall).  Many of the winters would be milder, some significantly milder.  Still, I would rehearse the same pattern every fall.  Starting around Halloween weekend, any day where temperatures were projected to reach the 60s or 70s would basically sound an alarm off inside of me.  I would start planning ahead of time how to take advantage of these particular days, and bill it “the last nice day of the year.”  Sometimes, I would even have some “false starts” in this process, where I would be prompted to enjoy “the last nice day of the year” only to have another stretch (or even two or three) of warm weather occur before winter set in.

Now that I live in Denver, this practice is not necessary.  Not only do sunny and mild days occur quite frequently in the middle of the winter, but winter is one of the most exciting times to be in Colorado- due to skiing.  But, we are also not in an ordinary weather pattern.  Today’s highs will top out somewhere between 60 and 65.  But, after this, an abnormally prolonged period of cold weather is expected in Colorado.  It might even be too cold to ski, as highs between 10 and 20, and lows below 0 are anticipated for Denver.  It will be even colder in the mountains!  So, that alarm in my head triggered me to take advantage of this day as if it were the last chance I would have this year to go on a bike ride, which I did.

Of course, one of the challenge in taking advantage of the last nice day of the year is that in November and December, the days are quite short.  Today I also had an added time constraint, as I knew the winds around Denver would pick up around noon, making bicycling much more unpleasant.  So, I stuck to a much simpler ride, down the Cherry Creek Trail to  Cherry Creek State Park, a 25 mile round trip.  Most of the ride is flat, or slightly uphill on the way out and slightly downhill on the way back.  The first major terrain feature is a large hill near Kennedy Golf Course, which is followed by the climb up to the reservoir.

The Cherry Creek Trail is one of the best trails I have ever ridden!  It follows the river, through all of the underpasses, and avoids nearly all traffic lights.  This makes it a perfect way to get somewhere quickly on a bicycle.  There is some terrain climbing up to Cherry Creek State Park, but overall, the ride here only involves three “climbs”, and each one is only a couple of hundred feet in elevation.  Therefore, this would be a great ride for people who are only in moderately good shape, or not looking for a major challenge.

It will be too cold for bicycling in Denver to be enjoyable for at least another week and a half.  But, in all likelihood, this was not my “last chance of the year” to ride.  Therefore, I probably did not need to be too concerned about taking advantage of today’s weather.  However, I am also not seeing any negative consequences in taking advantage of a day like this.  I did not miss out on anything important, and everything I need to work on I can complete in the later part of this week when the weather turns awful.  So, this old habit is going to “die hard”, and probably won’t change much until it leads to a poor result.

Starting sometime between the ages of 3 and 7, we are all asked the same question;  What do you want to be when you grow up?  Sometime between the day we are first asked this question and the first time we purchase an alcoholic beverage legally, we all answer this question.  Some of us, inspired by an event, a hero, or something we are really interested in, figure this out at a young age.  Meanwhile, others answer this question later on, after a year or two in college with an “undeclared” major.

Whether we answer this question at the age of 5 or 20, we all determine “what we want to be” believing that we have some kind of final answer to this question.  One of the biggest surprises that we all encounter in the adult world is that “What do you want to be when you grow up?” is a question that we never stop answering.  Sure, some of us may spend up to a few years at a time in a sort of steady-state, remaining in one place.  But, eventually, inevitably, some form of change, or opportunity for a change, will come our way, requiring us to revisit the question.

I actually learned this fact years ago, when I was actually given two different options for where to take my career by a former boss.  So, the fact that I am currently approaching a crossroads that may take me down a different career path, to a different location, or both, does not come as a complete shocker to me.  While not surprised, there is still plenty to think about, and sometimes the best thinking is done in another setting.

A common scene in the movies (and on TV) is for one of the main characters to absorb recent events and ponder what they are to do next while overlooking their city’s skyline.  This is a scene I reenacted somewhat accidentally today when I discovered the best view of the Denver skyline I have seen to date from a place called Mount Galbraith.

Mount Galbraith is located just to the west of the town of Golden, Colorado.  With a peak at only 7,260 feet, hiking to the top is not challenging.  The vertical climb from the parking lot probably does not even reach 1,000 feet.  For someone looking to hike in Colorado with no prior hiking experience, this may be a good choice.  Unlike other trails near Golden, there is no mountain biking permitted on these trails, and the trails are significantly less crowded than any of the trails near Boulder.

I do not know why I came to this park today.  I had a lot on my mind today, and needed to get away from the distractions that often disrupt my thought process; in particular YouTube, the internet, and the Olympics.  So, I pretty much just got in the car and started to drive with no plan whatsoever.  Before I knew it, I was approaching Golden, and I had remembered seeing a sign for some kind of hiking trail on the way to Golden Gate Canyon State Park.  Knowing that in the month of February it is always safer to stay at lower elevations (this is due to both wind and snow pack), I decided at the last minute to stop.

I also made my Siberian Husky come along for the ride, but she seemed to enjoy it.  This is probably the closest I will ever come to getting a picture of my dog overlooking a city skyline, something that I think makes for a neat picture.  In fact, I think Dogs Overlooking Skylines would make for an awesome calender.  12 different cities, 12 different dog breeds.  If someone made it, I would buy one for sure!

Today I followed my instinct, and I did what countless movie and TV characters have done; find a good view of the city skyline and ponder what is going on in my life.  I’m guessing most people feel that when they come to a place like this they are taking a step back from life, and looking at what is going on from above.  It almost feels as if we are taking a big-picture omnipresent view of day-to-day life when we observe from a place like this.  While on a typical day, we are looking at one particular block, one building, or even one desk.  Coming to a place like this, the entire city, as well as many places around it, all come into view.  It is natural for this view to prompt anyone to look at the big picture.

And, it is time to apply this big picture view to that age old question.  What do you want to be when you grow up?  Or, for those of us that are already grown up, we can more simply say, what do you want to be?  Whenever anyone asks or answers this question, it seems like the discussion always revolves 100% around jobs and careers.  But, there is more to who someone is than their career.  Maybe you want to be the person your friends can depend on?  Maybe you want to travel and have some interesting experiences?  Or maybe you just want to have a balanced life?  When it comes to “what you want to be”, ambitions like these are a valid part of the discussion and should not be ignored.

The first time I heard about Lookout Mountain, the first thing I thought of was teenagers making out in their cars half an hour after sunset.  It just seemed like the kind of place a crazy new high school couple, with access to a vehicle along with the freedom that comes with it for the first time in their lives, would go.  It is that perfect middle ground for high schoolers starved for both attention and alone time.  They are far enough out of the “public eye” (i.e. social circle) to not feel too awkward, but not far enough out of the “public eye” to not get the recognition they crave.

To some, the fact that I automatically defaulted to this thought process is a demonstration of a disturbing level of immaturity.  But, I am strangely comforted by the fact that my mind occasionally defaults to such ideas and pursuits.  One of my goals as I get older is to never lose that youthful sense of wonder that makes everything seem so significant and magical early on in life.  Sure, if I were still trying to take high school girls “up to Lookout” at this age, it would be quite pathetic!  However, I take significant pride in the ability to still see places like this and imagine it’s possibilities from a perspective that is quite youthful, while still approaching it with the wisdom and maturity that I have gained over the years by being an astute observer of the world, humans, and human nature.

So, although my first thought of this mountain was one of 16 year olds making out in cars and possibly allowing themselves to go further, I came to understand it’s cultural significance to Colorado and the Rocky Mountains when it became the first major mountain I climbed on my bicycle after moving here from Illinois.  In a way, Lookout Mountain welcomes people like me to the world of cycling in the Rockies the same way I imagine it welcoming those 16 year olds to “adulthood”.

As the stormy weather that plagued Colorado the week leading up to Memorial Day came to a close, I decided to pursue this mountain in another unique manner.  I decided that on Monday, I would hike up the Mountain, using the Chimney Gulch and Lookout Mountain trails.  Then, on Tuesday, I would ride my bike up Lookout Mountain Road.

Regardless of whether one decides to pursue this mountain on foot or by bicycle, it begins at a (relatively) light to moderate level of difficulty.  The trail heads up a gentile slope that would be considered “moderate” in terms of hiking.  The bike ride is up a slope that most with little or no climbing experience would consider quite difficult, but it is a bit over a mile into the ride before the climb picks up.

While the bike ride does offer some amazing views, and I would argue better views of the Denver skyline, about a mile into the hike, some waterfalls form at this time of year, when rains are significant, giving me a whole new perspective of Lookout Mountain.

It is at this point cyclists will encounter their first major set of switchbacks (along with some steeper terrain).  The hiking part also picks up in intensity.

Just after the halfway point comes a somewhat easier part of the climb.  It is at this point the road somewhat flattens out for cyclists, and most can shift up a gear or two and pick up a few miles per hour in speed.

Roughly 2/3 of the way up the mountain, the hiking trail meets up with Lookout Mountain road for the second and final time, at a place called Windy Saddle Park (near Windy Saddle Peak).

Windy Saddle Park offers a great view of the Clear Creek Valley to the West.  The photo to the left was actually taken back in April on a previous bicycle trip up Lookout Mountain, while the one on the right was taken on Memorial Day.  Colorado is typically a very dry state, with a very brown or red look (depending where you are).  However, the week preceding Memorial Day was quite wet, with daily thunderstorms, and even four consecutive days of hail.  These photos, taken from the same place, demonstrate how different Colorado can look during different seasons and weather patterns.

After Windy Saddle Park comes the most challenging part of the trip, regardless of whether one is hiking or cycling.  Cyclists will encounter a series of switchbacks with a higher grade and frequency than the switchbacks in the earlier part of the climb.  When I continued on the hiking trail, I had anticipated the same increase in intensity.  What surprised me was the sudden change in tree density.  It felt as if we had suddenly left the wide open and entered a forest.

There are two trail junctions in this more challenging (although still not “14er” level) part of the trail.  First, the Beaver Brook Trail, which is a longer trail that winds through the rest of Jefferson County, breaks off to the right.  Luckily, these trail junctions are clearly marked so nobody spends hours wandering around wondering when they will finally get to the top.  The second junction is with the Buffalo Bill Trail, which goes to the part of the mountain where Buffalo Bill’s grave is.

Lookout Mountain is not a single peak.  It is more of a mound.  One one end of the mound is the tower most commonly associated with Lookout Mountain.  On this other end is Buffalo Bill’s Grave.  Buffalo Bill’s Grave is a great destination point for cyclists.  There is a gift shop at the top offers water for free, nice bathrooms, and great snacks.  Being pretty much at the same elevation as the other side of Lookout Mountain, one can stop and turn around without feeling like they cheated themselves out of part of the climb.

While (excluding driving) there are two ways up the mountain, there are three ways down.  One other thing I discovered about Lookout Mountain is that it is a popular place for hang-gliding/ para-sailing.

Depending on the day of the week and conditions, it is not too terribly uncommon to encounter around a dozen gliders taking off and landing at different points on the east side of the mountain.

Between the awkward adolescents in their cars just past sundown, cyclists like me achieving our first significant Rocky Mountain climbs, and hang-gliders soaring through the air over town, Lookout Mountain is truly a place where dreams come true.  It is a place where people feel a sense of achievement, a sense of advancement, and a sense of welcome into what’s ahead.  For cyclists like me, it is even more challenging bike rides, higher into the mountains.  For those adolescents, it is adulthood, and all of the challenges that will come.  Either way, it is both magnificent and scary, but best appreciated by looking upon it with the same sense of wonder that we begin our lives with.

In 1983, an incredibly drunk Ozzy Osborne made the mistake of deciding to relieve himself on the Alamo, a building of historical significance.  He was arrested (Isn’t public urination usually just a ticket?), and scorned by many, primarily due to the fact that the Alamo is an important symbol of pride amongst Texans.  However, to Ozzy, a British rock star, the building probably did not mean too terribly much.  While a sober Ozzy (if that existed in 1983) would probably have realized the building is significant due to the presence of tourists, he probably would not have felt the same affinity or pride when standing in front of the Alamo.

With the exception of a few wide eyed hippies that believe that every place is significant, and a few hard core cynics, that fail to see the significance in any place (or anything), the significance of most places is dependent on the person and the culture.  There is no better of an example of a place like this than Four Corners, U.S.A.

Four Corners is unique due to the fact that it is the only place in the United States where four states all border one another.  If one wanted to stand in five different states at one time, it would not be possible.  If one wanted to stand in four different states at once, there is only one place where it can be done; Four Corners Monument.

The primary reason people visit this particular monument is to take silly pictures like this one.  Assuming the location of the four-state border is correctly marked (some question that is in the right place), in this picture I am in four states at once.

However, in the absence of state borders, this particular spot would really actually be quite insignificant.  There is no natural demarcation point, or significant change in scenery.  Even on the Colorado side, the wide open landscape, periodic mesas, and sagebrush screams Arizona much more than Colorado.  This Arizona-like feel persists for over thirty miles into Colorado until the San Juan Mountains start to show up on the horizon somewhere east of Cortez.

The significance of this place is further muddled by the fact that this point is not the border of four different jurisdictions.  The monument is actually on an Indian Reservation.  Thus, you do not even get the standard differences in policies and sales tax that usually accompany state borders.  An equal number of souvenir stands exists on all four sides of the monument.  I am not sure whether or not marijuana is legal on this particular reservation, but the policy is the same on all sides.  I did not observe all of the pot heads clustered in the Colorado quadrant of this monument.

In the absence of state borders (and people obsessed with exact points of latitude and longitude), the most significant site in this region is a rock formation a dozen or so miles away called Shiprock, which has cultural and religious significance to the Navajo people who have inhabited the region since well before the Spanish arrived.

From a completely neutral standpoint, the rock formation definitely seems to stand out way more than any other feature in the area, which is mainly small mesas and creeks.  But that does not mean the wide open space where the monument should lack significance to all people.

For most likely a variety of neurological, sociological, and historical reasons, Western Culture associates wide open spaces like this one with freedom.  It’s the wild.  It’s the untamed.  It’s the place where you can yell as loud as you want, shoot any kind of weapon you want, and start a fight without anyone to break it up.  There is nobody to tell you where you can (and can’t) hike, climb, tie a rope to an arch or mesa to swing from it, or even try to catapult small rodents.  It’s the last refuge of people seeking to escape every single one of society’s restrictions and limitations.

But the one set of regulations that one can really never escape is the ones that exist only inside their own heads.  I often refer to these as the “invisible chain”.  And by this, I am referring to all of the anxiety, fear, and self-consciousness that often stop us from doing what we feel we should be doing.  It stops us from telling people what we really think.  It stops us from talking to that interesting and attractive stranger on the train.  It stops us from dancing when fun music comes on.  In some ways, it stops us from living.  And, millions of Americans are in the process of destroying their livers trying to reclaim it.  In these pictures of the free, wild, and untamed west, there are typically very few people, or buildings to indicate the presence of people.  There is nobody to judge you, and nobody to make you feel self-conscious about what you chose to wear, say, and do.  The fact that this is where we go to seek freedom indicates where we, as a people, believe most of our restrictions come from.

Therefore, if one could overcome this “invisible chain”, the restrictions placed upon us would be limited only to those officially legislated by some kind of governing body and effectively enforced by law enforcement personnel.  The few lucky individuals that manage this are able to find this greater level of freedom in places like London, Hong Kong, or New York City; places that provide the interaction with other human being that we all crave.

We often see the desire for community and human interaction as pulling us in one direction, while the desire for freedom and individuality pulling us in the opposite direction.  As an extrovert, I often struggle with the fear that asserting my individuality and refusing to conform, will cost me in the social realm.  Reflecting upon all of this in the wide open spaces of the desert southwest, I re-realized that being an individual and reducing that fear actually helps in the social realm.  Negative responses from those that fear non-conformity are more than outweighed by positive responses by those that appreciate authenticity and variety in nearly all circumstances.  The key is to understand that we all have freedom of choice, and not to allow any of the hate to translate into hatred towards others.  This applies even the people that have ridiculed me and caused me hurt.  They have the freedom say what they want.  The only way to truly overcome that ridicule is not to ridicule them back, or “defeat” them in an argument.  It is to not be affected by that ridicule and continue to be the way you are despite anything they say.

This is one of several lessons, I re-learned on this trip.  These re-realizations make this place significant to me, even if the official reason for the significance of any of these places is questionable.  Everyone has a different experience here, and it is completely understandable for someone to come to Four Corners, find out it is on a reservation, buy nothing at the souvenir stands, and leave seeing the place as pointless.  For me, however, this is where I got my mind off some of life’s frustrations, and got back on the path to becoming a better person.

This week, it is with great sadness that I say goodbye to a travel partner that has been with me for over a decade; my 1997 Chevrolet Malibu.  After showing signs of weakness for several years, it’s performance just recently started declining rapidly, to the point where it can no longer be driven with any degree of confidence.  At its age, it would be quite difficult to justify spending any more money on repairs.  After holding on to this vehicle, potentially longer than I should have, it is finally time to say goodbye, and time to move on.

To some people, a car is just a car.  It is just simply a tool for one to get from place to place, just like any of the other pieces of machinery they own.  Obviously, those that lease new cars every three years do not get attached to their vehicles, preferring to always have the latest in technology.  And, there is no clear reason to have any kind of emotional attachment to a mechanical object with no thoughts or emotions of its own.

However, as someone who loves to travel (and is addicted to being in motion), I cannot help but be extremely sad to know that I have taken my last drive inside this vehicle.  The feeling of being inside this car, and being behind the wheel is one that I had become so accustomed to, it almost felt like second nature.  For some time, it felt like a place I really belonged, and there was definitely a year or two in there when I felt more at home inside this car than the places where I actually lived.

When I purchased this vehicle, I was still in college, and longing for the independence associated with having a car of my own that I can drive at will, at any time I wish, and to any place I wish.  Like any guy that has not turned 21 yet (and even many who have), I thought that having my own car would make me more interesting, more popular, and more desirable.  I had somehow thought that having my own car would help fill one of the missing pieces of my life.

The year before I bought my own car, I had been using many different cars to get places.  Some belonged to family members, some belonged to friends at college.  But, all were different.  None were mine.  I did not really become particularly accustomed to the specific dimensions, specific quirks, and optimal use of any of those vehicles.  That, of course, changed when I bought my first car.  It was my first major purchase as a young adult.  For the first time in my life, I could call something major my own!

In a way, the story of my first car is the story of my own coming of age.  However, coming of age also means a fairly rapid rate of change and significant turmoil.  Most young adults experience a significant amount of turmoil in their lives as they go through college, start their careers, try to establish themselves as adults, and determine kind of person they were destined to be.

My vehicle saw me through the transition to graduate school, several career related disappointments (or setbacks), numerous relationship related fumbles, lots of really crazy travel, lots of adventures, and even some lewd behaviors I am not proud of.  It was also the setting of some of the more significant discussions I had with trusted friends, in which we would attempt to navigate some of the situations that puzzle young adults, and ponder our futures as they were unfolding in front of us.

Traveling not only provides adventures, stories, places to be, things to do, and ways in which to see the people I care about, and take part in activities I love, but it also provides an outlet.  Often when I feel frustrated, disappointed, or short-changed by life, I just need to go somewhere, get a change of scenery, and get a fresh perspective.  I did a significant amount of traveling well before I decided to start writing this blog, and took some major road trips.  In a way, I did exactly as the commercials at the time told me, I saw the U.S.A. in my Chevrolet.

I knew this day would eventually come.  In fact, it came significantly later than I had expected.  Over the years, I became increasingly interested in bicycling, and subsequently moved to the City of Chicago, where significantly less miles are driven in day-to-day life.  So, despite my car being 17 years old, it reached 150,000 miles only a few months ago (now at 151K).

Still, as I struggled to get this car started for it’s last spin, I felt a sadness that was tough to explain.  I’d look at the car, and think of all of these memories, all that I had done, all that I had gone through, and how my years of coming of age shaped me into who I am, for better or for worse.

Life should never stop being an adventure.  I shared many of my adventures in the Midwest with my Mailbu.  There was no better car for all of those nights cruising on Dundee Road, those days passing people on the right on the Chicago Skyway, racing down I-65, or looking for tornadoes in Iowa.  Now that I live in Colorado, I am having completely different kinds of adventures.  And, although I am sad to have lost a travel partner that suited me well for a long time, I have been provided with an opportunity to find a new travel partner that is quite suited for the adventures I am destined to have in this part of the world.

This morning I purchased a brand new Mazda CX-5, which may just be my travel partner for the next decade to come (or more).  With high clearance and all wheel drive, it is well suited for the State of Colorado.  With a little more pep to the engine than many of the other vehicles in it’s class, it also suits who I am.

Maybe these vehicles are just simply vehicles, inanimate objects built by humans.  Or maybe I had a loyal travel companion that selflessly determined that it had become time to step aside for another- one that suits where I now am a bit better.

Saint John Island is one of the most remote places within the United States.  A part of the United States Virgin Islands territory, it’s year-round population is a meager 4200 people.  It can only be accessed via ferry or boat.  For mainlanders, Saint John can be accessed by a 20 minute ferry ride, after a half hour cab ride from the airport on nearby Saint Thomas.  The flying time to Saint Thomas is listed as roughly three hours from the nearest major airport in the mainland; Miami, Florida.  Therefore, the minimum travel time for any mainlander is four hours.  For most, the journey is much longer.

I spent my time on Saint John primarily in two places; Cruz Bay, which is the main population center on the island, and Caneel Bay, a resort about ten minutes farther up the coast of the island.

Cruz Bay is where the ferry from Saint Thomas first arrives.  It is the first place any visitor to this island sees.  It is Saint John’s front door, it’s first impression.  And it doesn’t disappoint.  The ocean here is as stunning and picturesque as anywhere I could possibly imagine.  In fact, even at some of the best kept lakes in the United States, I have never seen water this magically blue.

Upon arrival to Cruz Bay on the ferry, one immediately sees a plethora of tourist accommodations.  To the left is the Virgin Islands National Park Visitor Center.  In front are the beaches, boats and restaurants.

A tourist that walks up the road straight in front of them (road names are not obvious here) will encounter a road lined with bars and restaurants that obviously cater to those not from the Islands.  Walking along this street in the evening, rather than traditional Caribbean music, one will hear the likes of Jimmy Buffet, modern American pop, and a surprising amount of Country-Western music.  And, a vast majority of the proprietors and patrons of any of these restaurants are obviously tourists or those who moved here from the mainland to work tourism related jobs.

Most of the residents of this island are black (or Afro-Caribbean).  Although this did not really surprise me, I still wonder how this came to be, as I had never really been taught about the history of the Caribbean Islands beyond the arrival of Christopher Columbus in 1492 and the subsequent voyages to the “New World” that the news of this voyage inspired.

However, when I look around me, and take a couple of trips to less touristy parts of the Island, where one can see a better representation of how those native to Saint John live, I can’t help but have the present rather than the past on my mind.

How do the lives of those that live here year round differ from our own?

How do they feel about being a part of the United States?  And, more specifically, how do they feel about their status as a U.S. territory (and not a state)?  We commonly hear about issues regarding Puerto Rico’s similar status, and the razor thin margin between those who support and those who oppose statehood.  But, we never really hear much about the U.S. Virgin Islands’ status and how it impacts the people here.

Most importantly, how do they feel about us, and our presence here?  Do they debate the economic impact of tourism vs. the cultural disruption that it causes?  Do they ponder the fact that within the mainland part of the U.S., we have places like Catalina, Key West and South Padre, places where many of us could theoretically get a similar experience without invading their island?

Ultimately, are they fighting for their identities, their culture, or are they enjoying the economic benefit of our presence, as well as their association with the United States of America?   When we think of the Caribbean, we often think of pop icons, including Bob Marley, but also more recent pop icons from the region, such as Daddy Yankee and Sean Kingston.  The music produced by these artists take us to the pristine tropical oceans of the Caribbean, if nowhere else but in our minds.

However, it is these pop icons that appear to represent the dichotomy of the possible responses that seem plausible given the current situation of those that live in the U.S. Virgin Islands.  Marley, from his lyrics, considered himself part of a struggle for the culture and identity of himself and his people.  But modern pop stars like Kingston appear to be simply enjoying the economic benefit of their stardom, much of which comes from the U.S. and the western world that Marley rallies against.

Although there is a lot more to any one person’s life that what we witness through the media, Kingston and Co. do appear to be thoroughly enjoying their lives.

After multiple nights of partying, I lay exhausted on Scott Beach, the finest beach on Caneel Bay resort.  I watch the boaters and snorkelers go by.  Some even tell me that it was here, in the clear waters of the Caribbean, that they had one of the best snorkeling experiences of their lives.  They did so by being willing to visit a place a little bit out of the way, a place where the people, the culture, and the way of life are different than their own.

That is when it occurred to me that the world is full of people who are different from me.  The world is full of people who look different, act different, have different customs, beliefs, values, and different ways of understanding the world.  We can either learn to live with different types of people, and try to relate to them as best as we can, or we can accept the limitations that go along with confining ourselves to people with sufficient similarities to ourselves.

In practice, we all implore somewhat of a combination of the two strategies; accepting some differences but trying to stay away from others.  However, there are some that believe that in an increasingly connected world, the future belongs to those that can bridge the gap between different cultures.  I am not sure if I inherently believe that the ability to bridge cultural gaps is a prerequisite for success in the 21st Century, as many people have built fortunes designing products that largely cater to one segment of society.  However, when I watch people enjoy Saint John Island, and watch videos by Kingston and other similar artists, I see firsthand the benefits of being able to relate to those with different backgrounds and ways than my own.

It’s a day we all experience at some point in the winter season- some of us more than others.  A thick layer of low clouds blanket the sky in a manner that states in no uncertain terms that you will not be experiencing a single ray of sunshine for the entire day.  Temperatures hover somewhere in the 30s.  There is a cold, damp feeling to everything that makes anyone outside feel as if some kind of very light precipitation is falling.  But, nobody can really tell.  In fact, not only are we unsure whether precipitation is actually falling, we are not even sure what type of precipitation (rain, snow, other) we believe might be falling.  And, to be honest, it really doesn’t matter.  Because, the mood is already set, and that is one of a persistent cold, damp, and raw.  It is as if the world around you is telling you that you that today is going to be more subdued than most.  That today will not be the day you go on some kind of life changing adventure, achieve something major, or even make significant progress towards something.

There is a half a century old folk song whose lyrics go something like “a time for war, a time for peace, a time to laugh, a time to cry”.  I am not really 100% certain what they actually say in the song, but I know the entire song kind of discusses the cycles and sub-cycles of life in that sort of manner.  And, it advocates the recognition that certain actions, activities, emotions, etc. have their time and place, regardless of which ones we prefer, which ones we enjoy, or which ones we feel are more beneficial.

I have always been one to periodically look for ways to get the maximum utility out of one of the most precious resources we all have- time.  Implied in many initiatives we take to better our lives, including the goals I made for 2015 at the start of the month, is a better use of our time, commonly in the form of trying to select in favor of behaviors we consider a good use of our time and against behaviors that we consider a poor use of our time.  However, one thing I often fail to consider is that not every minute of every day can be spent doing something that we feel is significant.  Just as the cycles of life often take us to the next exciting adventures in our lives, the cycles of life will also tell us when it is time to slow down and recharge our batteries.  And, although I consider myself to be in the top quartile for energy levels in my age group, even those of us with high energy levels can run into times when it is depleted.  A time to rage, a time to mellow.

Sometimes it is hard for an energetic person to realize that the time to “mellow” has come.  For energetic people, this portion of the cycle of life can be frustrating, and, during down-times, I often find myself restlessly looking at bike routes and new travel destinations to consider in the near future.  However, this particular weekend, the time had come in no uncertain terms.  And, the weather, so raw, cold, and lifeless, only reinforces this fact.  It amplifies the mood.

Emotion and anxiety is a much more significant energy drain than many people realize.  In fact, I have found that at times emotions and anxiety can drain energy far more efficiently than strenuous physical and/or mental work.  There are plenty of times I remember bicycling 50+ miles, staying out partying well past midnight, or working hard to meet some kind of deadline, and still having an energy level the next day fairly close to normal.  However, I do recall several recent scenarios where drama, uncertainty, or allowing that part of your brain that worries about all things that can go wrong to stress me out about something have made me quite sleepy.

Along with the dull weather pattern, multiple emotional events over the past few weeks contributed to my need to take a weekend to recharge.  One of the hardest things to do is to say goodbye to a boss that you actually enjoy working for.  Two weeks ago, I found out that my supervisor, the man who hired me, has believed in me every step of the way, and genuinely respects me and my ideas, is departing.  This is hard to find in the workplace.

Work is not typically the most exciting thing people do in their lives.  There is a reason that movies rarely show a person manipulating data in a spreadsheet.  And, there is a reason I write a travel blog and not a work blog.  I’ve even seen some people that achieve the dream job they had set out to do from a young age, and still get burned out on it.  But, with good people around you and a good environment, the time that we spend at work can periodically be enjoyable and fulfilling, which is the most we can really ask for.

This weekend, I am not just anxious about the uncertainty that comes with any change, but I am genuinely sad to see the man go.  And, while it is tough for an adventure-seeking extrovert like me to swallow a weekend of resting, and focusing on other areas of my life, there is a time for my focuses to remain within a 5 mile radius of home, and that time is now.  I am certain that 2015 will produce some amazing adventures, some of which I already have planned and look forward to.  But for now, all I can do is appreciate the opportunities I have received and do my best to make sure I continue advancing my career forwards without giving up on the most precious resource I have- who I am.

I came back to the Chicago area for a number of reasons.  In fact, I had so many reasons to be here, it would have been hard to justify not being here.  Simply put, it was where I needed to be at this particular time, despite the fact that I now live elsewhere.

The primary reason for my visit was to meet my family’s newest member; my nephew, who was born only a week before I arrived back in Chicago’s Northwest suburbs, where both my parents, and my sister/ brother-in-law live.  At the age of 8 days, I got to meet him, and was able to subsequently spend some time with him over the course of the following week.  However, as I sit back at my home in Denver, I cannot help but think of what I am missing out on being 1000 miles away from “home”.  Specifically, I am thinking of this newborn baby, who will go through different phases of development, possibly on a daily to weekly basis for some time to come, as life changes at a faster pace for children than it does for adults.  Even if I come back twice a year, there are phases in his development I am destined to miss.  That is just the way it is.

However, my mind also drifts to all the rest of my family members, as well as my friends, back here in Chicago (as well as the surrounding area).  While adults have lives that do not go through changes in as rapid of succession as children, and it is easier to “catch up”, we still do have experiences on a daily basis.  And, as much as some people post much of their daily lives on social media, or do a decent job of keeping in touch, I do wonder what I am missing.  I dwell on the fun daily events, strange occurrences and “inside jokes” that made all of the people around me so much fun to be around.  But, I also dwell on the ups and downs, and the times when someone important to you just simply needs some encouragement, or, conversely, some advice.

I was wearing a suit the day I met my nephew, as I was on my way to the first of a number of events I would also attend over the course of the week.  This one, a wedding for one of my good friends from college, in Northwest Indiana.

Here, not only did I get to witness the big day for the bride and groom, but as is common with events like this, I got the chance to hang out with several other friends from college.  In a way it was just like it was back in the day.  There are some people in all of our lives who we can not see for weeks, months, years, and still just pick right back up where we left off as if we had just seen each other the previous day.  I am blessed to have a good number of people like this in my life.

However, there was an obvious difference between now and then, and that is children.  Some of my friends also traveled a significant distance to be at this wedding, and they did so with children.  It is actually pretty inspiring to me, as they had decided somewhat spontaneously to travel to Indiana for this wedding, and were still able to do so despite having a 5 year old and a (not quite) 5 month old respectively.  And, they stayed at the wedding longer than many other people.  It makes me think of a future chapter of life, that my involve children of my own, with a lot more hope, that maybe the “your life is over” camp are significantly exaggerating when they describe the impact starting a family has on one’s life.  So, as was the case with so much of my trip, I was simultaneously living out a past “chapter” of my life, while also getting glimpses of a future “chapter”.

In fact, the rest of my week was also partially a baby/child meeting tour.  I wanted to try to see as many people, and take part in as many events with my friends, as possible, while still spending a significant amount of time with my family and my new nephew.  Luckily, many of my friends were able to work with me schedule-wise to create a successful trip!  And, I got to take part in all kinds of activities ranging from simple lunches to crazy nights out in large groups.  Over the course of the week, I was living the life I had lived as a child, as a young adult, and as I will live it in the future.  In a way, I spent the week in one place, but in another way, I was in too many different places to count.

The Chicago metropolitan area is centered around downtown, where trains from all directions converge, as do countless people every day.  It also includes countless suburbs, and even Northwest Indiana.  It is a place where, much like my experiences over the course of the past week, people are doing everything from working hard and playing hard, to relaxing, to trying to do the best the can to raise a family.

And, when I see my newborn nephew, or any newborn child, I see the great equalizer.

Every single person, from the most successful to the biggest failures, from Bill Gates to habitual criminal, from the most personable to the biggest asshole, began as a vulnerable newborn infant, just like this.  No matter who someone is, they started out in this position, as a baby, completely dependent on someone else to survive and reach adulthood.  And, in the pool of newborn babies at the hospital at any given time, are people that will one day go on to become influential individuals both good and bad, people that will make their families proud, but also people who will one day disappoint, and people who will be nothing but kind and generous to their fellow human beings, but also people who will treat others with contempt and recklessness.  But, for now, each child I met over the course of this week is just a child, a person trying to figure out the world around them in various stages.  All we can do for them is give a good example.  Over the course of the week, I found myself repeating one phrase to the children I had encountered; “A positive attitude is contagious”.  When I smiled at a child, they would often smile back.  It is basic human nature, and one of the most powerful tools we can take into our day-to-day lives to produce the best possible outcomes.

2015 is quite a strange time.  I wholeheartedly believe that one day we will look back upon this particular era of human history as one of major transition; for better or for worse.  It was around twenty years ago that households across America were suddenly all gaining access to the internet.  It was around ten years ago that social media started ramping up the roles it played in each of our lives, and a few years later, many people across the country started getting “smart phones” with data plans that provide us with nearly constant access to the internet.  Living in Colorado, it is easy for me to travel to places without an internet connection (although I am sure there are people working on that right now).  However, I imagine that many people in large metro areas, particularly on the East Coast, may go years without traveling to a place that is truly “disconnected”.

It takes a while for society to really process changes as major as this one.  For the first few years, following the proliferation of social media and smart phones across the country, it genuinely felt as if I was the only person who was concerned about the potential downsides of this sudden cultural transformation.  It wasn’t until a few years later that people started sounding the alarm about topics such as cyberbullying, echo chambers, loss of depth in our conversations, the impact it could have on our friendships, phoniness, and the constant exposure to new information leading to a culture of constant distraction.  Having moved from Chicago to Colorado in 2012, I cannot pinpoint the exact time when we as a society actually started addressing this issue.  I recognize that I moved from a major city to a place that naturally attracts people that would share my views on this subject.

I am a firm believer is a concept known as “Natural Law“.  This philosophy states that there are certain universal truths that apply regardless of setting.  By contrast, Moral Relativists believe that what is right and wrong in always relative to the time, place, and circumstance.  Over the past couple of years, much has been written, in books, on the internet, about the importance of taking time to “disconnect”.  Most of these article remind us of the need to, from time to time, turn off our televisions, computers, smart phones, etc. and spend some time with ourselves.  But, this was true even before we had smart phones and social media.  Long before social media, Bill Gates would periodically go into complete seclusion for a week at a time.  He would refer to these excursions as “think week”s, and use them to develop key ideas.

When I arrived at Turquoise Lake, a mere five miles outside of Leadville, Colorado, what I saw was a perfect place to put this advice into practice.  Simply put, it is quiet, but also very scenic.  I came to the lake not knowing what to expect.  I knew it was a Tuesday, and in the middle of October, and therefore would not likely be crowded.  But, with the exception of a storm headed into the area by later in the afternoon, the place was quite tranquil.  It is the kind of place people envision when they think about a quiet country mountain getaway.

I decided I would take five minutes, and force myself to do nothing- absolutely nothing!  I would not pick up a rock and start throwing it.  I would not walk down to the lake.  And I certainly would not even touch my iPhone, which was in my pocket at the time.  For five whole minutes, all I did was stare at the Lake, the trees, and the mountains in the backdrop.

At the end of these five minutes, I picked up a rock, and wrote the following message.  Along with this overarching theme, a series of other ideas flew into my head.  For, in life, we all do things that makes us feel alive.  Unfortunately, we also have times in our lives when we simply don’t feel alive.  Choosing to live means something different for every person.  We all have our own individual passions and priorities.  But, one thing we all must do, in order to be true to ourselves, is overcome the fear of leaving our comfort zones.

As I watched the storm roll in, I realized that, for many, the first step towards overcoming this fear, and expanding our comfort zones, is exactly what I just did.  In our current culture, with TVs in every house, iPhones with music and games, and distractions everywhere, being completely still, completely silent, and without some external stimulation to occupy our minds is well outside the comfort zone for most people.

I have a friend from High School who has A.D.D.  And, I do not mean it in that manner in which we over-diagnose A.D.D. in our modern society.  He was diagnosed long before they started diagnosing everyone, and serious has nearly no attention span without medication.  One day, we thought it would be interesting to see how long he could do nothing for- absolutely nothing.  We all just sat in chairs doing nothing.  After a minute or so, we could obviously tell that this was a painful experience for him.

However, for those of us without this issue, when was the last time we actually did spend a whole minute (or five) doing absolutely nothing?  How often do we, while waiting in line, or waiting for a train, or waiting for our friend to show up at a bar, instinctively take out our smart phones, and distract ourselves with a game, an unnecessary email check, or social media?  Have we all gotten to the point where we cannot spend a minute inside our own brains?

For what I realized is that when we “disconnect”, we are not just disconnecting from the internet, and other distractions.  We are actually reconnecting- reconnecting with ourselves.  For most of our days, in 2015, for better or worse, we are fixated on an external stimulant.  Our minds dwell upon something someone else has chosen for us to think about.  It is only when we shut those outside distractions out that our minds are free to wander.  It is then that we form our own thoughts, on our own terms.  This is something I fear we may have lost in our modern culture.  At Turquoise Lake, I found it.

Ideas are powerful!  They can outlive the people, and even the places and things originally associated with them.  Rome was all but destroyed in the 4th, 5th, and 6th centuries.  The people that created Rome, and the representative republic which governed Rome for the first five centuries were long gone.  Yet, these ideas made a resurgence in the 18th Century, when the founders of a new country called the United States of America created a representative republic in a new land far away.  The writings of ancient Roman authors, from those that formed the Republic after overthrowing a King of their own, to those that later tried to defend the Republican form of government from power hungry politicians, are said to have provided inspiration for the country’s founders.

For all intensive purposes, Rome was a place that no longer existed.  Yet, ideas that originated from this place had found their way to a land that Romans had no idea even existed, at a time over two thousand years later!  Over the next Century, these ideas would proliferate, inspiring additional revolutions all over the world, and even counter-revolutions.  Roughly a century later, that idea would actually find its way back to the very place it originated, with Rome, now part of a nation called Italy, would adapt a roughly similar form of Government.

It is for this reason people are often more threatened by ideas than they are by specific people.  Today, when those of us look at someone like Osama Bin Laden, or any specific leader of ISIS, what we are looking at, and what we are threatened by goes way beyond a specific individual.  Even Bin Laden, long the subject of ire for many, needed the aid or cooperation of many other individuals to successfully carry out the attacks he carried out.  Simply put, for many of us in the United States, he became the face of an idea, and one that we largely found repulsive.

We all have ideas.  Even those of us that do not consider ourselves creative, or inventive people, have ideas.  It doesn’t have to be world changing like the invention of the computer.  Maybe it is something as simple as the idea that it would be nice to have a train line or an additional road built to alleviate traffic.  Or maybe it is the idea that animals should not be mistreated by their owners.  Either way, as long as one understands the idea, why they feel the way they do about it, and has enthusiasm for it, the idea is worth pursuing and standing up for.

I have a ton of ideas, and many do relate to how I feel the world should work.  Lately I have been hearing all the time that some people see the world as it, while others see the world as it could be.  I would consider myself firmly in the later group.  I commonly see some aspects of our society, and how it works, and think to myself (and sometimes say it to people around me) “we can do better”.  After discussion, I will often hear from others what has come to be my least favorite sentence of all time: “It is what it is”.  This is because, in many cases, I really see no reason it has to be that way.  Some people see this as the mark of someone who refuses to mature beyond a state of artificially prolonged adolescence.  However, I see it as refusing to give up on me, and what makes me unique.

I see an entire generation of people pursuing college education, and, more and more, post-graduate degrees, in interesting intellectually stimulating subjects just to join the workforce and be asked to perform menial, repetitive job duties and have their ideas rejected due to their low standing on the corporate totem poll.  We can do better to nurture and develop these promising young minds.

I see people not being true to themselves, in their actions, their behaviors, and attitudes.  We encourage one another to conform, to act like everyone else, and to live life according to a script written by and for a culture that no longer exist because many fear change and the potential loss of status associated with it.  But each person’s individual and unique way of doing things is part of what makes this world an interesting place.  We can be better about encouraging people to be true to themselves, and not being threatened by their unique way of life.

I see countless missed opportunities in the lives of countless people based on adherence to rigid rules and policies that do not make sense.  This is where fear takes it’s greatest toll on society.  Many take comfort in rules and structure.  However, why should someone who has completed their work, and has no other obligations (meetings and such) be sitting in their cubicle at 2:30 on a warm, sunny afternoon?  And, why should one person making a mistake with something lead to a law or ordinance preventing everyone from taking part in this activity?  We can stop taking comfort in rules, and start taking advantage of all the beautiful opportunities this world provides us.

And, I see people who have failed to make deep and meaningful connections with other human beings.  Many go through their lives feeling like they do not have the support system needed to get through the rough patches of their lives.  This is because we live in a society that does not place a high value on building social capital.  Many of us spend our days in work and social settings where we do not feel comfortable expressing our emotions and showing one another who we really are.  You cannot develop a meaningful friendship with someone that does not even know who you really are.  As is the case with the other ideas listed, we can do better on this one as well.

Periodically, I am pressured to give up on these ideas.  I admit nobody has ever specifically told me something like “don’t be who you are”.  But, I definitely feel it.  “You need to act more professionally”.  “Fireball: What are you?  Still 22.”  “Grow up, be a man.”  “You can’t just….”  These types of statements, and many more, come based on the idea that there are certain expectations of me that I do not believe need to exist.

There are even some that have given me sincere advice that I need to stop worrying about these overly philosophical issues.  After all, there are actual reasons for all of the things that frustrate me, and those that defend the current way we do things in this world probably have some valid points.  But, while sometimes I do experience frustration and rejection by acting the way I do, the alternative sounds way more depressing to me in the long run.  The alternative, to me, is giving up on who I am.

I would rather encourage people to pursue their intellectual ideas, even if occasionally their bosses come down on me.

I would rather continue to show people who I really am, and continue to enjoy the activities that bring my happiness, even if I am periodically given negative feedback by judgmental people.

I would rather take advantage of all of the great things this world has to offer, all of the wonderful places to visit, interesting ideas to pursue, and experiences to enjoy, even if that periodically earns me “reprimand”.

And, I would rather occasionally get burned by someone who uses information about me for their own selfish ambitions than cease showing people who I truly am.

Essentially, I would rather get rejected as myself than be accepted by pretending to be somebody else.

We are all people of value, in our own unique way.  And, for any one of us, if we go out there in this world, and find a way to be the best version of ourselves, but still ourselves, we will naturally find people who like it, and people who see us as valuable individuals.  We all long for acceptance, but in order to be accepted in a true meaningful way, we need to overcome the fear of rejection, and stand up for our ideas.

I must be insane!  The same thoughts have kept popping up into my head about my upcoming trip ever since I planned it roughly six weeks ago.  I am so conflicted.  On one hand, what I am doing is significantly outside the realm of what “normal people do”.  On the other hand, compared to most long-distance cyclists, my plan is actually rather tame.

My upcoming trip involves cycling (or attempting to, we’ll see how it goes) 600 miles over the course of six days, starting at Niagara Falls, New York, and ending on the East Coast at Portland, Maine.  I am actually joining my friend Clay for half of his 1250 mile journey, which he started in Chicago.  So, while I am taking this cycling thing to a whole new level, I can’t help but think about the fact that there are plenty who do trips that are way more elaborate than mine.

This map represents an approximation of the route that I will be taking.  There are a few things that are still up in the air, and we may improvise a bit.  But we are certainly planning to head northeast through the Adirondack Mountains as opposed to taking the most direct route through Saratoga Springs.  It will add a few miles to the trip, but we will get to see places like Old Forge, Saranac Lake, and Lake Placid.

Last year, I joined my friend for one of his journeys, but chose a much shorter segment, from Bozeman, MT to Jackson, WY.  This 230 mile bike ride took me through Yellowstone and Grand Teton National Park, and at this point is still the longest and most exhausting bike ride I have ever done.

This year, I took on a much longer ride for reasons that are somewhat personal.  I grew up on Long Island, just outside of New York City.  However, I moved away when I was only eleven years old.  Still, at face value, it always seems odd to people when they hear that I am from New York and have never been to Niagra Falls, as well as countless other places in the region.  In fact, there are nine states I have never been to, and Vermont is one of them.  In about a week’s time, my number of remaining states to visit will be down to eight!

I can’t fault myself for having not been to these places.  After all, it takes many people until nearly the age of eleven to start developing an individual identity, and for many it takes even longer to develop an appreciation for travel to places of natural beauty.  I remember taking the ferry from Orient Point on Long Island to New London, Connecticut several times as a child.  While I remember the smell of the salt water, I do not remember appreciating the scenic coastal town in front of me.

After months of what still doesn’t feel like enough training, I am ready to take on the longest bike ride of my life, and see many of the places I “should have” seen as a “New Yorker”.

I feel anxious.  Will I make it?  Did I train enough?  Will it rain?  Will it get windy?  Will some other hazard emerge?  Or, will the lower elevation and relatively easier terrain (for the first half of the ride along the Erie Canal) make it feel easier than my normal cycling around Colorado’s Front Range?

Whenever I plan to do something major like this, there is also always this tug of war that goes on inside my head.  Maybe this is normal.  I don’t know.  On the surface, I understand what it means to go outside of one’s comfort zone, and do something unique.  There is a greater risk and a greater reward than sticking to activities that are easy and familiar.

Sometimes, particularly when doing something major, a part of me gets this nagging feeling of guilt inside my head, like I am skipping out on some kind of responsibility.  It’s strange, and I don’t know why it occurs.  In a way, it bums me out that this feeling occurs at all.  I know that life was meant to be lived, and the world was meant to be explored.  Yet,  in the back of my mind this feeling just occurs, making me feel like I should be doing something boring, like work, or house cleaning.

I wonder if others get that feeling too.  I wonder if we’ve been conditioned in some way to feel guilty about taking extended periods of time to do something for ourselves.  I’m glad I’ve learned to work through this feeling, preventing it from costing me countless opportunities over the years.  Still it would be nice to silence it altogether.

Sometimes we need to push ourselves, or be pushed, to truly figure out who we are.  Perhaps this requires the right level of insanity.  Last weekend, I attended two weddings, one in Breckenridge, CO, and one in Chicago, IL.  They were on back-to-back days.  This is, in some ways insane.  Yet, I did not do anything out of control, that could land me in jail or on a hospital bed.  Perhaps I have already found this proper level of insane!

The Weminuche Wildreness appeared to be particularly devastated by the recent Mountain Pine Beetle epidemic.  While a portion of the second day was spent above the tree line and in storms for much of the journey, we wound our way in and out of the forest, alternating between hiking through the forest itself, and hiking across an open meadow where we could gaze upon the forest to both our left and our right.

Throughout the State of Colorado, and throughout the West, I observe areas where the Pine Beetles have decimated the forest, changing the ecosystem forever.  Nowhere, though, have I seen a higher concentration of dead trees.  I would estimate that, over the course of the trip, some 70-75% of all the pine trees I saw, were, in fact, dead.

But I did notice some signs of life, particularly at the campground Sunday (Day 3) morning.  Tucked away amongst the densely pack forests of decimated trees, little signs of life seemed to appear.  It reminded me of many American cities, circa 1982, decay being the overarching theme but, signs of life and pockets of hope beginning to appear here and there for those willing to observe.  Maybe indeed, the worst has now passed for this particular forest.  As was the case for many of our cities, it is possible that in a decade or so, we will revisit areas like this, and see once again a thriving forest, albeit, as was the case with our cities, with a different character?

As is typically the case on a three day excursion like this one, the last day was primarily a descent.  As we descended, we quickly reached elevations where Aspens, rather than Pine trees made up a significant proportion of the forest.

Maybe it is different at this latitude, farther South than the Denver area, where I live and spend most of my time.  But, it feels as if in this wilderness, Aspen trees are able to grow at some pretty high elevations.

We figured out the tree line here to be somewhere close to 12,000 feet in elevation.  When looking upon sections of forest from afar like this, it is easy to picture some of these Aspen trees living at elevations close to 11,00 feet.  Over the course of my four years in the Denver area, I had grown accustomed to them disappearing between 9,000 and 10,000 feet.

Sunday’s hike was a 7.3 mile trek along the Ute Creek trail (the East Ute Creek trail we had followed the previous day merged with the main Ute Creek trail).  The trail alternated a bit, climbing up and out of the valley formed by the creek for some sections, and descending back toward the creek for others.  Due to the previous night’s onslaught of rain, which likely impacted the entire valley, the trails on this, the final day, were at times even muddier than the were the prior two days.  At the end of three days, our total distance came out around 25 miles.  I speculated as to whether the extra distance we traveled stepping around puddles, and veering left and right to avoid some of the muddiest sections of trail, over the course of three days made this a mile or so longer than it would have been had the trails been completely dry.

I personally added some distance on top of that.  I love side excursions, whether hiking/backpacking, cycling, or on a road trip.  And, in addition to the side excursion to the feature known as “the window” the previous day, I took one completely on my own the final day.  Roughly halfway through the hike, I saw a place where I could cut down to the creek, and see a mini-waterfall.

The final part of the day consisted of a small climb out of the Ute Creek valley, followed by a descent back towards the Rio Grande Reserviour.

It is inevitable that, on the last day of any trip, we all begin to ponder our return home, and a return to our “normal lives”, whatever they may be.  This return, though, is somewhat unique, as a trip into the woods is not just a journey away from our jobs, or certain responsibilities, it feels more like a complete separation from the modern world, or as some people refer to it, the “real world”.  All of us were separated, not just from work, but from TV, from the news, from Twitter, and even the manner in which society is structured in the 21st Century.

Since my return to Denver was a return to, after being completely separated from, the “real world”, I started to contemplate the “real world” as one big entity, which, even for a big-picture abstract curious minded thinker like me, turned out to be strange.  I feel like we often compartmentalize the “real world” into buckets; the working world, the relationship world, the school world, etc.  We will write blogs, have conversations, confide in others about our hardships, or celebrate our successes, with respect to one specific bucket of the “real world” at a time.  Some people will even chose to accept or rebel against the modern world on a bucket-by-bucket basis.  “I’m a freelancer, happily married with two kids and a picket fences house.”  “I work 9-to-5 for a large corporation, but I only eat organically certified food.”

I’m not saying there is anything wrong with any of the partially-rebellious lifestyles I am describing here.  We often try to oversimplify the actions and lifestyles of others as being either “conformist” or “rebellious”.  When I thought about life in the woods, and the few people that actually do it, live off the grid, and off the land, I think of those people as “rebellious”.  But, then I thought of human beings as part of the animal kingdom, and thought about what all non-domesticated animals do.  They live in the woods.  They hunt their food, many wandering around nomadically.  When thought of in that manner, it is us human beings, and our domesticated cats and dogs, that are rebelling against the way the rest of the animal kingdom works by farming our food and setting up permanent shelters.

At the conclusion of our journey, we had to actually wade across the Rio Grand River to get to the car, as the trail ended abruptly at the river.  This likely explained why we did not see any other people the entire time we were on the East Ute Creek and Ute Creek trails yesterday and today.

Shortly after leaving the trailhead, I saw what looked like baby mule deer living along the steepest part of the hill.

Like the journey to the Wilderness, the journey home took us by some of Colorado’s highest peaks and most stunning mountainous features.  I thought of the “real world” I was gradually re-entering, the life I live and the journey I just took.  It is not important whether we are “conforming” or “rebelling”, because, like life in the woods, it can be thought of as conformist or rebellious depending on perspective.

Those of us that are honest with ourselves, and with those around us, will undoubtedly find ourselves in both situations.  We’ll find ourselves in a place where our choices are the same as those around us, and be suseptable to being labelled “conformists”.  We’ll also, at some point, find ourselves in a place where our choices are not those of the majority, and be met with skepticism, hostility, and possibly even pressure to change.  What matters most, is not fitting into an image we may have of ourselves, whether it be the upstanding citizen, rebel, outcast, or whatever, it is that we have the courage to be all things, depending on our setting, in order to be true to ourselves.

I needed to take a day “off”, and my instinct told me Wednesday should be the day.  Day-to-day life over the past month or so had left me kind of burnt out, unnecessarily and inexplicably exhausted, not at my best.  I’d realized weeks ago I needed a day to disconnect.  We all need that every once in a while.  Wednesday just felt right.  I didn’t feel like hearing everybody’s recap of the election (regardless of the result), and it turned out to be an unseasonably warm day for November in Colorado.

I just got in my car and started to drive.  I had no plan, no idea as to where I would be headed when I left.  I purposely refrained from making a plan.  I didn’t look into options, or pre-meditate in any sort of way.  I wanted to try something different than what we all typically do when we travel.  I wanted to lean simply on my instinct, and just let it determine where I should go as I go.  Everywhere I went, every decision I made regarding when and where to turn, I made based on what felt right.

I went west out of Denver, following highway 6 through Golden, than 93 north, and 72 west towards Nederland.  I continuously resisted the urge to pull out my map book, or my phone, or turn to any other source of information.  I forced myself to rely solely on instinct, that subconscious portion of the brain that aggregates knowledge, experience, and observation into guidance without translating those thoughts into words.  It turned out to be a welcome break from one of the things that may be exhausting all of us in the mid-2010s, the process of gathering information, often way too much of it, to make each and every decision in day-to-day life, which we often agonize over to the point where we delay actually making the decision.

Along the way, I experienced this strange hyper-emotional calm.  I began to tear up.  I was breathing heavy.  But, it felt really good.  It felt as if for the past couple of months, emotions were one by one filling up inside my head, bouncing around like molecules until they gradually started to reach a critical mass, where there was no longer room for them to move around.  They had just become jammed .  And, now, with whatever barrier that was keeping them inside removed, I was suddenly free to just let them out, and let them all out at once.

As I continued along this windy path, this strange hyper-emotional calm became accompanied by a feeling of optimism.  I felt like I knew I was in the right place, doing the right things, and making progress toward where I wanted to be.  I’d freed myself from all the data, all the second guessing that gradually erodes away at our confidence.  I knew that, both that day, and in life, I was moving in the right direction even when I didn’t see the destination.

For a while, I had no idea as to why I was experiencing burnout.  The term typically conjures up images of someone working long hours into the night, neglecting their friends, their families, and other areas of their lives.  Burnout is people working 70+ hour  weeks, which I most certainly had not been for the duration of 2016.  So, why was I burned out?  Why did I feel drained so often?

Having searched for answers regarding this, through reading, conversation, and observing people, I came to a series of important realizations about burnout, which run contrary to the image of long nights with pots of coffee.

It’s not the amount of work that burns us out.

Workload can contribute, but more important is how we feel while we are doing our work.

The primary source of burnout is feeling as if we are being phony, or fake.

Pretending to be someone else, for whatever reason we do it, is exhausting.  It is not sustainable.  The only way to be is our true selves.  That is what our instincts tell us to do.

Negative energy in all forms leads to burnout.

One of the nastiest forms is fear, trying to prevent some sort of bad outcome such as loss of job or status.  When we act out of fear, or anger, hate, etc., everything we do is significantly more draining.

One of the most exhausting things we do is try to prove ourselves.

I’ve seen plenty of instances where someone is working long hours, but is not burned out because they are doing what they love and they feel confident while doing it.

My instinct even took me down a random dirt road, something I otherwise never would have done if it were not my previously specified destination.

I ended up at a place called Rainbow Lakes, part of the Indian Peak Wilderness.

I hiked roughly 2.5 miles, getting to the treeline, which was surprisingly nearly snow free!  This is definitely not encouraging for fans of winter sports.

As, well, as can often be the case in our lives as a whole, the change of season that winter sports fans are waiting for is simply not happening yet.  This hike, on Wednesday Nov. 9th, felt shockingly similar to the way it would have felt in the middle of the summer.

Just over the ridge, I got myself to a place that was extremely inspiring.  Unfortunately, I did not get a photo, as, well, my phone died.  It was a sign that what I needed to do was disconnect, and, once again, connect to my own thoughts.  Just for good measure, though, here’s a pic I found of the exact place where I sat.

I actually stared at that one little gap in the rock straight ahead.

Our subconscious thoughts do take into account recent information, even as our conscious minds look for more info and don’t know what to make of it.  My subconscious mind, my instinct, though, processed all of this; the election, interactions with people, my own feelings, and summed it up neatly in one sentence, a sentence that simply popped into my head…

The age of deference is over

Make what you want of that.

I also came to another revelation regarding a matter that is more specific to my life.  I had been thinking a lot about the concept of acceptance.  It is why we are always trying to prove ourselves, and often exhausting ourselves.  Afternoon exhaustion, dissatisfaction, lack of inspiration, all of these concepts are inter-related.

We want to be accepted, and can only be accepted as who we are.

But, for each person individually, myself included…

If we want to be accepted as who we genuinely are, we must do so for others as well.

We’re all looking for acceptance, but if we make it easier on each other, as well as ourselves, we might all have a bit more energy leftover for other things.

The previous night’s election, regardless of how any of us feel about it, is yet another example where sometimes more information, more data, is not better.  The best models, based on every piece of data available, made predictions that were quite flawed.  My instinct, many months back, came to a more accurate conclusion about what was to occur.

In an era where we have access to unlimited information, and are often bombarded by it, sometimes we need to realize that less is more.  I, for sure, will, going forth, make a better effort to rely less on data and more on instinct.  After all, it brought me to Rainbow Lakes, without even so much as looking at my atlas, or my Google Maps App.

Life is full of events, both events in which we have control over and events which we do not.  This is true for everybody, from the most successful and confident people to the most disillusioned.  It’s also true that all people will experience both positive and negative events.

There are a lot of cheesy sayings out there that get to the same general point.  The one that sticks out in my mind is…

Every time I’ve ever read this statement, I imagine the author primarily referring to those “negative” events- the kind of events that can cause anxiety, and, when not properly handled, have long lasting negative consequences, including a reduction in confidence and self-worth.

However, I feel as if this statement can apply both ways.  The same way the impact negative events can have on our lives can be minimized through the proper response, the positive impact of certain events can be truly realized, both with regards to life circumstance as well as confidence and self-worth, with the right response to a good event.

That is why it is important to celebrate accomplishments whether major or minor.  When celebrated properly, a person’s accomplishments can reinforce positive perceptions they have about themselves- without doing so at the expense of others, the way so many mistakenly do.

I wanted to reach the 2,000-mile mark, celebrating the biggest cycling year of my life, at a location that is iconic as well as meaningful.  I might have selected a place right in the middle of the Central Rocky Mountains, had it not been for the basic fact that it is November.  While the weather has been warm, to the point that it doesn’t feel like summer actually ended, the month of November still comes with constraints.  70 degree temperatures will not change the fact that by 5:00 it will be getting dark.  And, in the mountains, there is more risk for trouble, in the form of precipitation, wind, and chilly mornings.

Luckily, there was a reasonable place to host this event; Davidson Mesa, a moderate sized hill, that sits about 600 feet above town, roughly six miles East of Boulder.

The view of the Flatiorns to the West on a clear day is magnificent enough to warrant the Colorado Department of Transportation putting in a scenic overlook, which is particularly popular among tourists to the area driving from Denver to Boulder.

As is the case at the top of Vail Pass, the rest area is shared between motor vehicles and bicycles, as there is now a bike trail that follows highway 36 between Denver and Boulder.  As a regular visitor to Boulder, I have ridden on this trail about a dozen and a half times over the course of 2016.  So, it felt both scenic and meaningful to celebrate reaching this mile marker at the most scenic location along the trail between Denver and Boulder.

What makes events like this truly special is sharing them with others.  For me, this meant even sharing the event with someone who had a more significant accomplishment, mileage-wise, than I did.  In fact, I know that there are a lot of cycling enthusiasts who ride far more miles than I do, some even topping out at over 10,000 miles in one year!

2016 was a memorable cycling year for me, and the fact that I hit this milestone, 2,000 miles is only a small part of it.  When I look back upon the year, that is now almost over, and think of the cycling I have done, it is about way more than numbers.  It is pedaling around Niagara Falls

The Adirondacks

Over the mountain passes of New Hampshire

And reaching the ocean, after six days, to have a fresh lobster.

It is treks to places like Cheyenne and Castle Rock.

It is countless rides long the Platte River, Cherry Creek, and Route 36 bike trails.  It is even commuting for work.  This celebration for me, was about all those experiences way more than it was about reaching a milestone.  In a way, I was celebrating a year’s worth of positive and healthy experiences on my bicycle.

And I got to share the event with others, some of whom joined me for the 25-mile ride from downtown Denver, and some of whom joined me along the way.

I even shred the event with a friend who was celebrating a more significant accomplishment than mine, 3,000 miles.  The true way to celebrate our accomplishments, both big and small is to do so in a way that does not take away from the accomplishments of others.  Knowing there are people out there who accomplish more, ride 3,000, 5,000, even 10,000 miles, and have gone to more destinations, some even riding across countries or continents, does not take away from what I have done.

I know I am not a super hero, or someone saving the world because I do some interesting bike rides that add up to 2,000 miles a year.  And, I know my life will have some more significant accomplishments.  But, I also know how to properly harness an event like that.  And, it is certainly not by using it as a means in which to compare myself favorably with some people for an artificial self-esteem boost.  Nor is it by dwelling on how much more others have done.  It’s by simply being joyous, celebrating, being happy for others, but most importantly, allowing myself to be happy for myself.

Day 1: Every time I land in another country, something feels different.  I had this feeling when I first landed at the airport in Cancun, despite the fact that much of my surroundings were remarkably similar to what I experience at home.  As is the case at many U.S. airports, the airport signs are written in both English and Spanish, with the English words on top.  Even the mix of people didn’t feel too terribly different from many places around Colorado where I live. It was the little differences I observed; some different looking buildings, speed limits in kilometers per hour, and the driver of the van that took us to the resort from the airport trying to sell us Coronas (or Mexican water, as he said) that made me feel as if I had actually traveled to a place that is different than the place where I live and the places where I spend most of my time.

We arrived at the resort in the middle of the afternoon.  A resort this size takes a little bit of time to become acquainted with, as it has multiple sections, with different types of travelers having different types of experiences, a whole bunch of pools, and a ton of restaurants.  One of the great things about being at an all inclusive resort is the fact that, once guests arrive at the resort, everything, particularly food and drink, is taken care of.  This is good because I arrived hungry.  It would be the last time I would really experience hunger for the duration of the week.

Day 2: Like most Americans, a majority of my travel involves an itinerary of some sorts.  This makes the transition from what is referred to as the “real world” to the world of that particular voyage seamless.  The normal day-to-day concerns, work, schedules, responsibilities, etc. are replaced by the schedule- the itinerary of the trip.  Today I have meetings at 9,10, and 11, and a document that needs to be finalized by the end of the day transitions smoothly to tonight we are staying at this hotel, they have a continental breakfast, than we’re gonna get to this attraction by 10:30-ish.

On this vacation, there was no itinerary; at least not at first.  There was just enjoying the weather, enjoying the beach, the pool, the activities, and a week off of not just work but many other sources of stress, such as chores, social situations, etc.  This often leads to a gradual process of letting go.  Over the course of roughly 36 hours these concerns gradually slip out of the mind, to be replaced, miraculously, with nothing!  I bet there are some people that do not even know what that feels like anymore.

Day 3: I decided I wanted to go the full day without taking any pictures.  Now that the process of disconnecting from the “real world” was complete, it was a good time to live in the moment, and, not think about anything else, not even what I would write in this blog!  It was on this day that two of the things that typically happen during longer resort trips happened.

First, I actually started to settle into a quazi-routine. El Dorado Royale offers a lot of activities, activities I more or less took advantage of.  At 8 A.M., there was yoga on the pier.  9 A.M. Spanish lessons.  11:00 volleyball.  12:00 Aqua-aerobics.

Since guests do not need to cary around money, ID, and such at an all-inclusive resort, these resorts can offer amenities such as swim up bars.  We found ourselves, after the noon Aqua-aerobics, swimming up to the bar to have some drinks in the pool.  And since I was typically eating breakfast a bit later (10 A.M.), an hour or so of drinks would then be followed by lunch, and then the day’s afternoon activities, which varied a bit more day-to-day.

Day 3 was also when I began to make vacation friends; other tourists who had also managed to disconnect from their “real world” concerns, and had been drinking and enjoying themselves in the pool.

The resort has a lot of great restaurants, but their signature restaurant is one called Fuentes. This restaurant is a dinner show, with a famous chef that demonstrates how each course is cooked while serving the food.  The dinner and cooking demonstration lasted two and a half hours.  Each course featured food from a different region of Mexico.  It was not just a meal, but also lessons about both geography and cooking technique.

Every evening at El Dorado Royale, there is a show.  It typically starts at around 9:45 and lasts about an hour.  This is followed by dancing.  I found the meal/cooking demonstration exhausting!  I ended up electing to skip the dancing, calling it a night earlier than I typically do.

Day 4: A strange thing started happening on the fourth day.  Each day, I got drunker than the last.  On this day, after noon Aqua-aerobics, I took multiple shots at the swim up bar, and then took part in tequila tasting.  Yet, my hangovers were not getting any worse.  In fact, they were getting easier.  It was like I was hitting some sort of groove, which also involved the consumption of alcohol.

Also, having taken advantage of the 9:00 Spanish lessons, and through some conversation with the resort’s staff, whose company I truly enjoyed this week, I was suddenly getting back into the groove speaking Spanish.  Those that do not know Spanish could easily get by at this resort, as nearly all of the staff speaks English.  But, the lessons ended up being a great opportunity to speak Spanish with some native speakers and recover some lost knowledge.  By the end of the 4th day, I was instinctively starting to blurt out phrases such as “querimos jugar al volleyball por la playa ayer, per due demaciado ventido”.

Day 5: This day began to feel like the apex of the trip.  By the middle of the day I had made a good number of vacation friends, I was given two different nicknames by the other guests at the resort; “Denver” after where I am from (as it is hard to remember a lot of names), and “Maya Riviera”, after a rainbow colored drink that the resort offers.  It is a very sweet beverage, but I still managed to drink a ton of them.  In fact, one of my favorite things to do was to bring this drink under this fountain in the center of the pool, and drink it feeling as if I could not be doing anything more tropical at that particular moment.

I also got accustomed to some of the other specifics about taking this kind of worry free vacation.  One which tragically took too long for me to adjust to is the proper application of sun screen.  Unfortunately, I got quite burnt over the course of this trip.

The other is something I wish I could do more of in normal daily life.  In most situations, when eating at restaurants, it is most cost effective to order one item.  Without such concern, most meals involved multiple items of food.  Additionally, the portion sizes at El Dorado Royale are such that it is typically possible to eat 4 or 5 course meals.  The resort has two Italian restaurants.  Traditional Italian meals involve an antipasto (appetizer), a soup, a primo (first, which usually involves pasta or risotto), and a secondi (second, usually a pice of meat of some kind).  Here, there was absolutely no reason not to order one of each.

At the end of the evening, though, I got slowed down again, this time by heart burn.  Apparently, there is a limit, as well, it had been quite some time since I had drank five days in a row, and I do not plan on becoming a “functioning alcoholic”.

Day 6: The previous early night made it easy to wake up in time to watch the sun rise over the ocean.  As someone who lives in a land locked city, this is something I try to do, if possible (last time it wasn’t), any time I am on the East Coast.

The early start changed my routine up a little, but this turned out to be another fabulous day of activities, both in the pool and by the beach (beach volleyball).  I even amazed myself with my confidence levels.  Mexico has a warm place in my heart for this reason.  When I was younger, I had a very poor self image, and low confidence levels.  Then I got a part time job working at a restaurant, where most of the staff was (still is) Mexican.  I achieved my first real boost in confidence at the age of 16 when I was welcomed and appreciated by that community.  I thought about that experience, as once again in Mexico, I was feeling welcomed and appreciated, by the other guests as well as the resort’s staff.

But, I knew the “real world” would find a way to make a comeback.  At the start of this trip, I made a conscious decision to take a true holiday and stay away from reading about, taking about, or thinking about two things; work and current events.  Those were the two things that had been most likely to cause me angst over the past few months, and my mind needed a holiday from that way more than my body needed any kind of rest.  However, I did start to become curious when I saw a newspaper that reported that the president-elect had selected a treasury secretary.  I couldn’t help but wonder what it meant, even though I was wanting to not think at all about that stuff.

It’s also all but inevitable that something will happen over the course of a trip like this that will trigger a concern from “normal life”.  After all, these concerns do not go away, they are just temporarily out of one’s thoughts, and if something triggers it, the mind will come to the realization that there’s concerns will have to be addressed upon return.  This is more likely to happen to closer one gets to the end of their vacation.  Luckily for me, this was just a brief moment in a week that otherwise felt amazing!

Day 7: Sometimes it can be a real challenge to enjoy the last day of a trip.  Everything I am doing, I have been enjoying all week, and know it is the last time.  We all know it’s best not to think about this, but, it is inevitable. It ended up being the perfect day for a side excursion.

El Dorado Royale offers a lot of side excursions, for an extra charge. These include activities as simple as jet skiing to the more involved (and more expensive) voyage to the Mayan Ruins.  This is what is not part of the all-inclusive aspect of the resort.  It doesn’t cost any extra money to play volleyball, go to the batting cages, or take part in one of the many other activities, but it does cost for excursions like deep sea fishing, or swimming with the dolphins.

It’s possible to have a great week without doing any of these extra cash, but we finally decided to go parasailing, on the last day, which is one of the quickest excursions available.  With this excursion, we kind of got a two-for-one, as it both started and ended with a short ride on a jet ski to get to the boat.

The activity ended up being one of my favorite parts of the whole trip.  It is surprisingly easy.  Some would see how high in the air para sailors gets done be intimidated by the activity.  I honestly expected to have to use a bit more energy holding on to the rope that attaches me to the sail.  But, it is actually quite safe, and is possible to let go of the ropes and just enjoy the ride.  It was a particularly spectacular view of the coast from several hundred feet in the air.

Due to the sunburn and travel, my body is exhausted.  My mind is neither exhausted nor refreshed.  But, my spirit is refreshed in a way it has not felt in quite some time.  The question now is, how to bring that spirit with me back home and keep it as long as I can.

A personal narrative..

I cannot believe it has been five years since I moved to Denver, and I cannot believe that 2017 is already half over. I’d say “time flies”, but that is kind of a cliché. Time does not really “fly”, or even go by rapidly. It just appears as such when we think about time in larger chunks. In the past five years, I can think of plenty of Tuesday afternoons where it certainly did not feel as if time were “flying” by.

Okay, enough random psychological ramblings. However, I do want to point out that unlike most social media content these days, I do plan to be forthcoming with my own weaknesses and struggles. Hopefully that is refreshing.

My first five years in Colorado can be thought of as anywhere from a complete success to a total failure depending on how it is looked upon. By the traditional definition of “success”, I guess I am mostly successful. I make good money, live in a good place, and am healthy. By a more modern, and more millennial version of “success”, I’m kind of a failure. This is because I am haven’t gotten to the point where I am using my strengths to impact the world in a positive and meaningful way. I hope my writing encourages others to believe in themselves, find adventure and live better lives. However, life on an average day feels pretty empty. What I do to earn a living is quite insignificant, and has been for almost the entire five years I have been living here.

When I first moved to Denver, I attempted to recreate what I had in Chicago, particularly the social situation, which I really enjoyed.

This proved challenging for three reasons…

1. You cannot recreate the past. There will always be something different. Denver is a different place than Chicago, with different people, who have different priorities and expectations. It’s also a different time, and a different phase of life.
2. Call me spoiled, but this was the first time in my life I have ever had to really try to meet new people. In Chicago, I worked with a ton of fun people around the same age as me. Before that I was in Graduate School, College, High School, etc. People were always right there.
3. I was not at my best when I moved, due to a really disappointing work situation. Making friends is a bit harder when you’re not in a great place spiritually.

My first year or so here I probably spiraled out of control more than I realized at the time.

I quit my job out of frustration, and became disenchanted with the working world, a feeling that mostly persists today. Maybe it was my own experiences, the move to Colorado, or even that December 21, 2012 stuff (not scientific, but who knows). I just started getting this feeling that the 9-to-5 lifestyle, the one I had lived for five years in Chicago happily, was outdated, and that there was more to life than corporate structures, office politics, and spending eight hours a day in front of a computer.

I adapted. In place of the late night parties came outdoor activities for all seasons, travel and adventure. The past five years have been more adventurous than I had ever imagined. I ski better than I ever thought I would. I took part in the long distance bike rides I had always dreamed about, and traveled to some remote places!

Day-to-day life, though, remained a challenge. Finding a new job ended up being challenging. Being “rejected” time and time again took its toll on my sense of self-worth, and confidence. I spent a lot of time inside my own head, oscillating back and forth between blaming society’s outdated structure, and blaming myself for my own misfortunes in this department.

These misfortunes continued. The job I eventually found went relatively well at first, but took a turn for the worse when I asked to report to quite possibly the most selfish and judgmental person I had ever met. I’d be hard pressed to find a stronger de-motivator, at work, than having a boss that makes everything about himself. I got out of that situation, but still haven’t found something that gets me excited to get out of bed in the morning.

I put myself out there, and, through various means, met a lot of people, some of them really good people that I have come to really enjoy hanging out with.

However, due to some combination of different social styles in Colorado, being a little bit older, and how the digital age has impacted society as a whole, I never reached the status, socially, that I had in my life’s previous “chapters”. People observing my life would probably think I have done extremely well in this category. However, I do have a yearning, at times, for more social activities and more meaningful connections.

This is related to quite possibly my biggest struggle of all … “adulthood”. Where does my life go from here? This is the fear that keeps me up at night, as the average life of a full-fledged adult (as opposed to an “emerging adult” which generally refers to the late teens and 20-something lifestyle), as I observe it, to be honest, doesn’t interest me. I just feel like life, just being alive and human on planet Earth, is a blessing in many ways. With so many amazing places, and so many amazing people, I don’t want to spend my life keeping up with TV show characters, and working extra to accumulate money so I can remodel my kitchen (you know, because those cabinets look so 1980s) and spend weekends at shopping malls accumulating more material possessions.

This is probably the best reason to be in Colorado. This state feels like it was designed for people who feel exactly the way I feel about life.

Which is the main reason that, despite the previously mentioned struggles and knowing that there are other places with better career prospects, I really hope to make my life work here in Colorado. While I cannot describe my first five years in Colorado as a complete “success”, I am happy with a lot of what I have done, and feel good about recent personal growth. Life is a journey, with many chapters, plots and sub-plots, destinations, and, unfortunately, also some detours. Finding your true purpose, the role you were meant to play in 21st Century society, is not a trivial endeavor. It can be quite challenging, and can take many years. It feels worthwhile though, and almost necessary for a life that is truly fulfilling.

I usually don’t like posting photos taken from an airplane. Especially ones where the wing of the airplane is clearly showing, like this one …

The situation was just too good! The flight path, which varies from flight to flight based on upper level winds, happened to track right over Iceland. At a time of year when days are only around five hours long across much of Iceland, and less than 1-in-5 days feature clear skies, it is impossible to overestimate how fortunate of a circumstance this was: To fly over the volcanically influenced terrain at the onset of winter, seeing it in all its glory from above in broad daylight like this.

I couldn’t help but reflect on my experience there, less than two years ago, hiking on the glaciers, standing next to all the waterfalls, and seeing the northern lights.

As I had noted then, Iceland seems to be becoming a more popular destination for American tourists. However, according to a recent study, it does not crack the top 20 countries visited by Americans (based on data from 2015). Number 7 on that list is Germany, where my flight originated, where I had spent the prior evening, in Munich.

This was the second time Munich happened to be my final destination on a longer trip to Europe. This is an interesting coincidence as Munich somehow seems to feel closer to home than most other European cities I visit.

For example, nearly every other European city I visit has a significant number of really narrow streets, like these streets in Stockholm…

Munich, by comparison, feels wide open.

Part of the reason Munich feels familiar to me is because, for several years, I lived in the State of Wisconsin. With an estimated 42.6% of the population having German heritage, Wisconsin has its fair share of bars and restaurants that are decorated almost exactly like this one.

Places like the Essen Haus, have a similar layout. The serving staff dress in similar Bavarian style attire, and serve similar food and beer.

By the way, the food at Augustiner, walking distance from Munich’s Central Station, was fantastic!

After visiting several countries, and flying over one that I had visited quite recently, I was headed home, to an America that is, based on the perspective of being abroad for a while, in a confusing place.

According to a recent article, while Americans are the 2nd most well-traveled country in the world, only 36% of Americans hold a valid passport. This is possibly the source of one stereotype about Americans, that we generally don’t travel outside of our country.

The numbers here tell a different story, one that matches what I have observed, interacting with other Americans.

There are people here who are interested in traveling to different countries. They often plan a lot of trips to may different foreign lands. There are also a lot of people that aren’t. As, we are a vast Country. Most people can experience almost anything they would want to experience without having to leave the U.S.

We are a well traveled country, partially by virtue of being wealthy. A significant amount of that travel manifests as travel within our Nation. Travel abroad is mostly done by roughly 10% of the population with genuine personal or business interests in other places.

I in no way intend to shame anyone for not wanting to travel to other countries. That is their choice (or limitation, as some people do not have the time or money to fly to another continent). Truly secure people validate their choices in life, not by diminishing those who chose differently. They validate their choices with confidence in the benefits of those choice.

That validation, for me, can be best demonstrated in a recent article in Entrepreneur Magazine, titled “Don’t Let You Butt Dominate Your Brain“. Traveling to other places is one of several ways we remind ourselves one of the most important things we need to remember, as we take on whatever endeavors we take on in life.

Our way of doing things is not the only way things can be done.

Other cultures have other ways of doing things. We may conclude that our current culture is the best fit for us. However, just because something we observe is different does not necessarily mean it is “wrong”. In fact….

Assuming someone is wrong because they do something differently invariantly comes across as condescending.

I generally try to keep anything political off of this blog. This is not a politics blog. I don’t see the world as currently in need of another person chiming in with their opinions about the news, at least not in America. However, going out and seeing other cultures made me reflect one something that feels like a real shortcoming in our current political situation.

The way our political system is currently set up seems to encourage us Americans to see a false dichotomy, a false choice between two ways of thinking, both of which have serious flaws.

On one side, there is a group of people who believe America can do no wrong. On this extreme, any criticism of our country is done out of hate, and there is absolutely nothing that can ever be learned from other cultures.

On the other side, a group of people that sees our country as deeply flawed. This group appears not to acknowledge what is good about America. They long for us to be like some other country, and when our culture and history is discussed, the response is usually something like “meh”, or worse.

I can’t get down with either extreme, and it is my sincere belief that most Americans also find themselves somewhere in between these two maddening extremes. I sometimes think of countries in a similar way I would think of any other entity; a group, a person, a sports team, etc. I think of anyone that has a healthy sense of self. They believe that they are great, and do great things for the world. That does not mean they are not always looking for ways to improve, ways to be better. It also does not mean there is no room for some friendly criticism when it is warranted.

Traveling in general, particularly to other cultures, can be a powerful reminder that there is no one correct way to go about our lives. It also exposes people to new ideas. I believe everyone needs experiences like this, in order to stay open and avoid becoming too set in their ways. However, that does not necessarily have to be world travel- for everyone.

We dream of adventures in far away places. The majesty of watching the sun set over an endless ocean from a tucked away campground.

Of endless forests, whose trees stretch endlessly up towards the heavens…

Of the quiet lake tucked away in the mountains…

The wide open rugged terrain of Earth’s most pristine mountain ranges…

Adventures on both land and water…

And, in my case, the continuous smell of fresh air from the comfort of a bicycle seat!

Sometimes, however, life, as in some combination of events both major and minor, forces our attention elsewhere. By elsewhere, I mean to other aspects of our lives.

Springtime can actually be that time of year for a lot of people. The most common activities people take part in tend to either be winter activities, such as skiing, or summer activities that require consistent relatively pleasant weather. Springtime can be pleasant, but can also produce weather that is quite volatile.

Our most precious resources can be crudely generalized as time and money. It has often been said that a person’s values and priorities can be revealed not through their words, but their actions, in the form of how they chose to spend their time and money. Travel, at lest the kind of travel featured in blogs, magazines, and on TV shows, tends to be quite exhaustive of both time and money.

While there are people who value travel and people who don’t, even amongst people who value travel, there are times when these resources simply have to go elsewhere. I am in the midst of one of those time periods, where the large sums of money, and the large blocks of time just need to be used in other capacities.

Fortunately, not all experiences require large sums of money and large amounts of time. While not everybody is lucky enough to live within a 45 minute bike ride of a place that can feel majestic on a warm spring day.

There is something picturesque about everyone’s home town.

Wherever you live, there is something to be admired, there is an experience to savor and a scene to soak in, at the right time, from the right vantage point, so long as we all stay mindful.

My “offseason” consisted of activities that are less exhaustive of both time and money.

Some were bike rides to nearby places that had become so familiar, their beauty had become almost lost. Two years ago I had said that no matter how many times I ride the route 36 bike trail between Denver and Boulder, I would always stop at the Davidson Mesa overlook, even if I am not in need of rest. I broke that policy last week, which would later serve to me as a reminder that the familiar does not cease to be wonderful!

Others were trips to state parks within 60 miles, an hour’s drive or a three hour bike ride, of Denver.

On a day with unpleasant weather, I checked out the Dead Sea Scroll exhibit at the Museum of Nature and Science, technically walking distance from my home.

Nicer days brought me to places like the Cheyenne Botanical Gardens…

Or even just to my own back yard to plant a garden.

All, this, along with the other random activities I took part in around town

was certainly not enough to fend off the wanderlust, the ever present desire to get out and, see more places, witness more events, and travel somewhere new. However, an off-season, a change of pace of sorts, from time to time, might not necessarily be a bad thing.

According to Tony Robbins, there are six basic human needs.

Travel is a great way to meet some of these needs, particularly variety, growth, and connection to nature. However, with the exception of the few people who travel for a living happily, some of us need to stick closer to home to meet the rest.

In particular, I can see how consistently being in a different place can actually be a hindrance, or an additional challenge, when it comes to making an nourishing friendships.

As well as growing professionally.

And, well, when it comes to developing a career (if travel itself is not the career that is), accomplishing something.

I can’t say I welcomed this season of my life, needing to direct my energies towards pursuits that feel less exciting and unique, and more like everyday life. However, after a couple of months, I now see why it is periodically necessary. The wanderlust isn’t gone. On the contrary, it probably gets worse every day. However, life is about balance, and when we get out of balance, bad things can occur. Just because I feel like far too many people have settled for the mundane, and less than I feel they are worth, does not mean it isn’t possible to fall out of balance in the other direction.

I boarded a train downtown.

I was on it for about half an hour.

I stepped off the train in a place called Olde Town Arvada.

As soon as I got off the train I felt this pleasant feeling of comfortable familiarity. Colorado does not have too many places like this: Suburbs with centralized downtown areas full of shops, restaraunts and bars centered around a train station. Yet, this is all over Long Island. In fact it is all over the entire New York metropolitan area.

So, why did I feel so content to have entered an environment that felt so familiar, even if it was nearly 2,000 miles away from where I grew up?

Questions that burn in my head often don’t go away until I have found a sufficient answer. A couple days later, I looked into why this feeling of familiarity was such a positive emotion. Apparently, there is something called the mere exposure effect, where people tend to rate more positively what they have already been exposed to, or become familiar with.

I wondered then….

Is this the same mechanism behind nostalgia?

Does finding joy in familiarity prevent us from being as open as we could be? And, is it holding us back from moving forward with our lives and culture?

Also, what is the nature of nostalgia? Do we tend to get nostalgic for a specific time in our lives? Or do we tend to get nostalgic for whatever time in our lives felt we felt a certain way?

Nostalgia has intrigued me quite a bit lately. I feel like I just reached the age where people around me are expecting me to take part in it. The problem is, I am not really that interested. I’m more interested in thinking about the future.

Anecdotal evidence seems to point towards a cycle of nostalgia that revives time periods roughly 25 years before the present day; shows, movies and even music samples that appeal to middle aged adults with spending power reminiscing about their formative years.

In the late 80s/ early 90s, there was The Wonder Years, set in the 1960s. At the turn of the century, it was That 70s Show. 1980s nostalgia has been everywhere for some time.

Now, the nostalgia cycle is turning to the 1990s, an era I rememberer but don’t feel too terribly attached to. I liked Seinfeld. Nirvana and Soudgarden were good bands. However, I also remember the mediocre (shows, bands and cultural developments I won’t specify as I don’t intend to throw shade right now).

Those who have studied nostalgia indicate that it is both a way to cope with things like loss, fear and disappointment, as well as a yearning for some kind of an ideal state. But…

Is this a good thing? Or are these idealized versions of periods in the past preventing us from recognizing the current period for what it is and making the most of it?

Are coping mechanisms a good thing? Or do they prevent us from actually processing what is leading to the negative emotions we are experiencing?

Likewise, I have heard a lot recently about embracing the unfamiliar. In my little corner of Millennial Denver culture, being open to new ideas and jumping into the unknown is consistently glorified as an almost God-like way of life.

Is there a limit? Is there an evolutionary reason for us to seek that which is familiar?

Open mindedness, taken to an extreme, can lead to analysis paralysis. This is prevalent everywhere, as the amount of information input by our brains exceeds our natural decision-making capacity.

What do we do now? Also, how did an impromptu trip to an inner-ring suburb lead me to so many questions? Then questions on top of questions?

It feels like I just lived out a quintessential example of over-thinking and analysis paralysis. It is easy for inquisitive minds to get into a rabbit hole where questions lead to more questions nearly indefinitely.

When I shut my mind off and take the experience, what I realize is that I am not as different from everybody else as I had believed. When broken down to its root cause, the psychological mechanism that causes so many people to idealize the past is the same one that gave me that positive vibe upon entering Olde Town Arvada.

Just because I don’t have any interest in binge-watching Friends episodes doesn’t mean I am not trying to cope with life’s disappointments and find that elusive feeling that all is good and will continue to be good for the foreseeable future.

This year, many of us suddenly found ourselves living our lives at a far slower pace. This period of partial shut down, with more time to just think and observe what is around us has now extended for long enough for us to notice the changing of the seasons.

What began as winter was breathing its dying breaths, still capable of icing over the streets for multiple days at a time, has now continued into the period where spring gives way to summer. Days grew long and warm as evenings became pleasant.

The slow change of the seasons, the day to day differences and the gradual changes in the colors and energy around us is something we were once deeply connected with. As children, and often also and young adults, we would feel that energy and anticipate the holidays and activities associated with each season with excitement. Somehow, many of us lost that connection in a sea of schedules, deadlines, expectation and chores. Maybe we are doing it to ourselves. After all, over the past century we have managed to make busyness a new symbol of status. Some even argue it is a religion.

Over the past decade, I did not show much appreciation for this time of year. Last year, I made two out of town trips in Late April/ Early May.

This year, travel has not been advised. I have limited myself to short trips, mostly by bicycle.

There has been more time to simply gaze at the slow progression of Springtime. I found myself, once again, as if reliving a much purer simpler time, anticipating things like the slow growth of the seeds that I planted.

Everything around me is looking livelier and livelier by the day.

The trees,

Our rivers and streams.

Our cities and towns.

Even the turkeys.

The first half of May is when many of us experience our first truly warm days. It is a period of beginning. It is a period of anticipation. It is a period of planning what’s next. It’s the start of a new job, a new relationship, a new project, forming a new community or even a new life.

It is that time period where the future of any endeavor just lies ahead of us, wide open, still manifesting primarily within our wildest imaginations. There has not been the opportunity for disappointment yet. No mysteries have been revealed. No unexpected limitations have presented themselves. No unforeseen conflicts have emerged. Everything is, if only for a short period of time, the perfection that it can only be within our imaginations.

Whenever anyone starts anything anew, it is always tempting to warn them of what could potentially go wrong. This is especially true for people we care about, and want to see prepared for life’s challenges.

Who knows what this year will bring. It has already brought us some serious surprises. Last year, many of the plants I had placed outside would be destroyed by a hailstorm towards the end of May.

It would also destroy the optimism exemplified by the colors of the trees, grass and bushes.

However, observing the first half of May at a slower paces has shown me how beautiful that moment in time, before there is the opportunity to even consider what can go wrong, at the beginning of any experience, truly is. In order to live our best lives, we should savor these moments when they do arise. We should allow ourselves, and those we care about, to live these experiences as the ideal fantasy they are at their onset for as long as possible. There is nothing like looking in front of us and seeing nothing but open highway- metaphorically speaking.