People still ask me, “Why in the world did you quit your job at The Wall Street Journal?”
It’s been more than three years, and my answer has been the same: because in Boulder I have muscles. Yesterday was the epitome of life in Boulder. My new roommate and I took an afternoon drive up to Rocky Mountain National Park for a trail run. Despite the ominous clouds looming in the western sky, we blasted Good Girl and stomped on the gas pedal. We arrived at the Lumpy Ridge Trailhead around 3 p.m. pulled on our shoes, and started panting up the immediate uphill. An hour and a half later, caked in salty skin and knees aching ,we were deep in the forest . We’d were several miles closer to the alpine lake, Lawn Lake. It felt amazing: Lungs burning at high altitude, hot, dry clear mountain sun sunk into our tank-topped backs.
“How you feeling?” I asked my dear friend, who just moved to Colorado from DC about a month ago. “High altitude” didn’t mean anything to her until this run.
“I hurt,” she said. “My legs hurt, my lungs hurt, my heart hurts, my back hurts. Everything hurts.”
We kept going. After 7.5 miles for her, and maybe 9 miles for me we fumbled back to the trailhead parking lot, literally worked. We sat on the hot cement parking lot and groaned as we stretch our aching limbs. It was tough. Even being a 10-year yogi, I could barely reach my toes as I stretched forward because my hammys were so tight….
…But you can’t take the motivation out of the girl. We did a few push ups, a few planks, a few more push ups — and THEN called it a day.
Later I came home and worked more on this site. It takes a lot of time, but I love putting the after-dark hours in. 9-5 is such the perfect time to go play outside. And in Boulder, we are lucky to sometimes get those hours to play. We still work. We just work after its dark and everyone is asleep.
So almost four years after leaving the concrete jungle of DC, I can still say, I left because I have muscles in Colorado. Where the mountains beckon, and I heed, and together we are better.
