It’s been awhile since I last wrote. At that point I was full of motivation, ready to lay out written word feverishly and in prodigious quantities. It was not but a couple days after that first post that I stumbled into what was, to date, the closest thing I’ve ever had to a full time job. So that whole writing thing didn’t happen.
But now public school is out, the sun is shining, and my lawn is dying. It’s surely summer here in Laramie, and after spending the last three days thoroughly wallowing in the awesomeness of summer at 7200+ feet I find myself once again compelled to write.
Summertime here is, to me, like a sort of renaissance. After the dark ages of winter when the days are short, it’s always cold, and just being outside (let alone running or climbing) becomes a production; summer arrives in time to remind me why I love this place so much. The days are long, the town is empty, and when you can go outside to play during the week you’d think that nobody else even realizes that the mountains are there. There’s not much that I can actually write about this because I think that trying to describe the feeling and experience will most likely result in cumbersome figurative language rife with adjectives that serve only to cheapen and marginalize the experience. Instead, I’ll just throw down a few ideas that came to mind over the last few days:
Running in the mountains without knowing where you’re going is a great thing to do.
Trying hard hurts and makes you bleed, but is indescribably fun.
One more route or is always a good call, even when you’re tired.
When the trail is good, going a little farther is the right choice. Always.
Now go out and play.