I’ve spent a bit of time in the mountains the past several days. During the week, I stayed with a friend up in Coal Creek Canyon who had just had surgery. She and her husband are both ex pro cyclists and they live in my dream house perched up at 9,000 ft. The only way I can really describe it is that their house is what it looks like when two people have spent years together being in love with the same things about life and each other. I found myself hoping that one day I’d live in a house like that too.
For the long weekend Steve and I had plans to get away to Crested Butte, but it looked like rain so about 3 hours into drive we decided to just stay put where we were – in the funky, artistic little town of Salida, well off the path beaten by our fellow Labor Day warriors. We pitched our tent in an aspen grove and rode straight from camp to the trail. We slept in and enjoyed slow cups of coffee in the morning. We talked for hours by the fire, and though we live under the same roof it felt like we were old friends catching up after months apart.
When you’re in the mountains, it is easier to remember how big the world is. It’s good for perspective. Good for the soul.