Moab, on the Road

So it's been a couple of years since I've been to Moab. It's an incredibly beautiful town, surrounded by mountains, canyons, and desert. It's a mountain biking mecca and an awesome place to road ride as well. I had some time off of work (between jobs, really) so I decided to head down for a long weekend with some friends.

Sabrina and I headed out Friday morning, and of course we got about 2 hours away before I realized I had forgotten my bike helmet. D'oh. I was not surprised; that's what I do. Fortunately Sabrina has a friend who lives in Eagle, about an hour down the road from where we were, so we stopped by to borrow a helmet from her. I also realized I had forgotten my headlamp so we borrowed a flashlight as well which subsequently got taped to my head at the campsite that night.

We pulled into Utah around 4 pm after enduring some hellish road construction on I-70 which made our trip 7 hours instead of 5. Down the old highway to Moab and Sabrina made an impromptu stop at a local winery. We bought some bottles and the nice guy at the counter gave us a free corkscrew since we were camping.

Then the search started. Ugggggh. Free camping in Moab does NOT exist anymore. All the previous free camping spots were either paid now or had "no camping" signs up. We must have stopped at 10 places, it was getting dark, we were sick of driving, and there were no free spots. We were walking around contemplating our next move when a guy walked up to us and said that we could stay at his site with him and his friend. Eric and Sloane were from California, on their way to Denver, and it was fun to share the site with them for a couple of nights. Thanks guys for saving our tired asses. =)

The next day Sabrina and I set out for a road ride. We had decided to do a 70 mile out and back to Dead Horse Point, which overlooks Canyonlands National Park. 35 miles of climbing. =) I soon found out my tender bum was not conditioned for that long of a ride, even though I've been riding all summer my time was limited to rides of a couple of hours, not 7 hours. It was incredibly beautiful and felt great to be out on my bike all day long.

Sabrina

Me

About 4 miles before the top we decided we just had to stop and stretch, so we did... right in the middle of the road. A few cars holding tourists with befuddled looks on their faces went around us, and a few stopped to ask if we were all right or needed a ride.


We had cooked spaghetti the night before, and I decided it would be perfect ride food... only I forgot an eating utensil, so I ate spag-from-the-bag. It was delightfully yummy and kept my legs going throughout the ride.

The view from the top was pretty amazing. I haven't seen many canyons, not being from the desert and all, and this was pretty spectacular. We kicked around at the top for awhile before heading down, knowing we would lose daylight quickly and although the way back was predominately downhill there were still some significant climbs we would have to do.




We made it back into Moab at sunset, with about 20 minutes to spare before the desert would be plunged into darkness. We stretched a bit so we would have some hopes of being able to walk (or bike) the next day, and then it was off to the grocery as I had developed an intense craving for tuna about halfway through the ride and decided I had to have some. Meanwhile Sienna and Jeff had made it into Moab earlier in the afternoon, and we met up with them for the drive back up the canyon to our campsite.

Sabrina chasing shadows

Heading for the sun

Pulling into Moab, 70 miles and some very tired legs later, greeted by some beautiful alpenglow.

TBC...

I love you!

stagnating

I am burnt out... again. (Doesn't take long, I reckon.) I am sick of studying... sick of memorizing (I HATE memorizing), sick of regurgitating useless ultrasound parameters that I'm never going to use. Am I not smart enough? Am I studying the wrong way? The wrong material? When I'm in the clinic, I feel competent, efficient, alive. Well, my practice exams don't think so.

Am I deluding myself into thinking I'm a good physical therapist when I actually suck? Will I EVER be ready for the licensure exam, or am I doomed to fail yet another (this time very expensive) practice exam? Am I doomed to work as a PTA for the rest of my life?? Not that there's anything wrong with being a PTA, but when I've dedicated the last 3 years of my life to attaining a Doctor of Physical Therapy degree, somehow being a PTA doesn't seem like enough... I want to start my career, take my professional life off the shelf... I was supposed to be working towards my OCS by now, dammit!

All of my friends and classmate/colleagues have moved forward... passed their exams, gotten jobs, etc. I'm stuck in the world of prn PTA work. I'm losing my eval skills every frickin day. I am wasting my life not doing what I'm supposed to be doing... or maybe it's not, after all? Only time will tell... meanwhile, my $1300/mo student loan bills are knocking at the door...

Ok, obviously, I'm frustrated. My life doesn't really suck. (just this part, currently.) I'm not generally a whiny little bitch. But seriously, this is getting old.

Nearly a month...

until Thailand. I am excited. Not just for the fact that there is to be incredible climbing, and that with this trip I am admitting to myself another addiction that threatens to take over my being and find me longing for that 'other' life that I could have had, had I not gone to graduate school... not that I would take that back... but also because all of Asia is an unknown world to me, having only traveled in Europe and the South Pacific, and I am curious to observe the culture and the way of life in a place so different from my own. There are mountains here, too, although different kinds... behemoth limestone cliffs rising up from the sea as though they had sprung up from a different world far below. I have heard many wonderful things about Ton Sai, and I am excited to be able to float for awhile in a place such as this.

a fortuitous early release

Yesterday it was slow at the Bent Gate. Painfully slow. Balls slow, even.

So I got let out early. Usually when I have the opportunity to leave early, I turn it down... I need the money, you know, and at not much per hour I can't afford to miss many hours.

But for some reason, I left. I wasn't sure what I was going to do... wander home, I suppose, maybe play with Cody.

Then I remembered the winery. A small winery appeared in Golden a few months ago, and caught up in the rush-around daily life so many of us succumb to, I had neglected to stop in, even though I love wine and used to love stopping time to taste some good wines. Really, it always seems like time seems to stop in a winery. A winery is a magical place, I suppose...

On a whim I steered my bike into the left turn lane (likely causing some annoyance to the driver I accidentally cut off- of course since this is Golden where cyclists are more prevalent than drivers he couldn't really do anything about it). I cruised down the block and rode up to the winery.

As I walked in I closed my eyes briefly and my nose took in the scenery. A hint of strawberry- a strong hint, actually. Sangria, perhaps. A sharp cheese. I opened my eyes. One couple canoodling at the bar, two winemakers stirring something in the back. A fifty, maybe sixty-something woman at the bar who greeted me.

I quickly engaged the woman at the bar, who turned out to be the owner of the winery, in a conversation about the art of fermenting a crisp white and the intricacies of Riesling. Soon three glasses were produced, each with a sampling of a different shade of delicious. A sweet pear Riesling, a light wispy Verdiccio, and a Pinot Gris I could taste before I stuck my nose in the glass. Then the specialty Sangria- ah yes, I knew I smelled strawberries. Made with sparkling water instead of soda, it was not sickeningly sweet like many Sangrias I had tasted. Ok, that's a lie. I've only tasted a couple, but they were more easily forgotten than remembered. This Sangria was as complex as a line from a poetic Shakespearean tragedy mixed with a faint hint of days gone by- a flashback from a party in college where I may have spent a semi-blurry evening discussing the meaning of life with the Russian exchange student tripping on mushrooms. Or something like that. Anyhow, too complex for this simple evening off.

I chose a glass of the Verdiccio. Tasted like cirrus clouds and a hint of rain. Or maybe I was just wishing for rain. Damn, it's been hot here. As I sipped the Verdiccio I conversed with Nancy, the owner of the winery. Turns out the winery was supposed to be a joint venture with her daughter who backed out a week after the winery opened and Nancy had already signed a 5 year lease on the building. Not given many other choices she decided to make it work. She seems to be doing a damn good job of it.

Over the next hour and a half I realized that Nancy had lived quite an amazing life. Married at 22, she was with her husband for 16 years and 3 daughters before he told her he didn't love her anymore, they divorced and Nancy had to figure out a way to support herself and her family. Being a stay-at-home mom for 15 years had left her without a lot of experience in the working world. So she decided to become an airline pilot. Everyone told her she couldn't do it- she was almost forty years old and had never really worked. She did it anyways.

As her kids grew older she started piloting international flights and seeing the world, staying in places for weeks at a time. She told stories of her experiences in Peru, Indonesia, Mexico, and Korea. We talked about life, people, marriage, children, business, and taking chances. The wine and the conversation flowed freely until I realized there were people waiting for me back out in the real world, that time really hadn't slowed to a standstill in the magical winery although I always feel that it does...

In the end I left feeling my life was richer for having met Nancy. It was a certain sort of interesting to experience a moment of connection with someone forty years my senior.

I guess you never know what may happen on a night taken off early.

My Morning Jacket

Wow, I have not written here in a REALLY long time... been super busy! Anyways, I am now a Doctor of Physical Therapy. Pretty sweet, eh?

BUT I am so excited for the My Morning Jacket show at Red Rocks on August 21st!! They were awesome there when I saw them opening for Bob Dylan last summer, and now they're headlining... definitely going to be one of the highlights of the summer.

goodbyes, and a philosopher's metaphor

Wow, I am a slacker on writing! Actually I've been really busy, but that's no excuse...

Today I said goodbye. Again. It was my last day at Denver Health Outpatient PT, and once again I found myself cleaning out my things, tying up loose ends, making sure everything was in its place (or delightfully out of place), and saying goodbye.

As I walked out of the clinic, I looked around at the quiet, still room that is usually so full of life and energy. The room where I have spent the majority of my time for the past 3 months. The room where I have shared in my patients' frustrations and fears, their joys and successes, however big or small. So many special moments exist in the energy of that room, still palpable even after everyone was gone. Memories of patients long passed through, on to bigger things and new lives. How many patients have had their lives changed by one of the therapists there throughout the years- and vice versa?

Goodbyes. I digress. As I stopped in the loo on my way out of the hospital, I reminisced on all the goodbyes I have said in the last few years. College is full of goodbyes. It's funny, I've only been out of college 4 years and I don't even know anyone who lives in Fort Collins anymore. My last friend there committed suicide over a year ago now. I guess everyone leaves in one way or another. I don't go back much now, although my favorite mountain biking trail in the world is up there. Funny how I had so many friends in college and now I only keep in touch with three of them. Was I sad to leave and let go of college and all the fun I had? No, I was ready to move on.

The past three years have been full of goodbyes, some more difficult than others. Goodbyes of all types. Doing clinical internships bring on most of them. Saying goodbye to my patients at the end of my internships before they are ready to move on is hard. I feel a responsibility to them to help them and do my best for them, and leaving before they are ready to go is difficult for me, even though I know they are in the caring and capable hands of my clinical instructors. Saying goodbye to my coworkers who become my friends, while still bringing a twinge of sadness, is something I have gotten used to. Saying goodbye to my classmates, some of who have become my closest friends, will be a little harder. Those are the people I have spent most the hours of most my days with for the last 3 years... 36 months... 9 semesters. It has gone so quickly, and now the time has nearly come to say goodbyes again. I wonder how many friends I will take away from this period in my life? I am curious to find out.

The act of saying goodbye always gives that twinge of sadness and nostalgia for me, but at the same time I know it is time, every time. No person, no experience stays in one's life forever. Everyone and everything I come into significant contact with plays a part in shaping my life, in carving the inner structure of who I am, and they are always with me, even if they are no longer in my life and even if I only think of them occasionally, when there is a faint special smell that comes in on a western breeze or I come across a certain leaf blowing a curious way on the sidewalk or beer bottle cap bent just so, that will remind me of someone long buried in my past, and it will inspire a brief moment, maybe even a smile, as I remember that certain person and how they have touched me. Even now I remember a tidbit long forgotten about someone still in my life as I smile at my run-on sentence that has somehow turned into a paragraph. Little things... memories I don't even remember I have, stored somewhere in one or two of the billion cells in my body. What an amazing existence we have!

An author/philosopher who I once read likened people to a huge, blue, expansive sky; and the people, things, and experiences in one's life to the clouds that float through it. Some clouds are pretty and light, some are dark and ominous. Some stay for a long time, building on themselves and on others. Some float through quickly on a high wind. However, all clouds eventually pass through. None of them stay. All that is left is the sky, blue and clear, in the end, and that is just how life is. It's not worth fighting the natural flow of things to keep them around, because they are not meant to stay any longer than they do.

In the beginning, when I was born, it was just me coming into the world alone. When I die, it will be just me again, alone, passing through. I myself am merely a cloud in the earth's big sky. Too many people today cannot sit quietly in a room by themselves. They do not like the company they keep. Too many people count on others for their happiness and don't want to be alone with what they see when they look within. True, most of us would not be happy in a vacuum. However, throughout the years I have discovered much greater satisfaction and contentment when I have not tried to hold on to things and people who were never meant to stay. I recognize and treasure these experiences for what they are and how they have touched me, and I let them go. I have found peace with goodbye.