Amongst the many things I enjoy about living in Denver, I think I appreciate the proximity to the mountains the most.
Anyone who knows me in real life will tell you that during the week you will find me lost in my paper littered office, two or three cups deep into morning coffee black, (I’m taking another stab at paleo. damn you robb wolf and all of your hipster nutritional theories) thinking about acquisition strategy, how that operating agreement I pushed to the side needs to be reviewed and potentially negotiated at some point, what items should be put on the docket at the next regulatory hearing, and intermittently wondering if I could get away with rocking that navy and black leather Theory blazer to my next technical review with upper management because its super fierce.
But the thing is, as much as I want to pretend that playing career girl Monday through Friday (okay, and on the occasional weekend too) can be somewhat rewarding, the truth of the matter is that I don’t really feel all that whole from making deals for the big company I work at.
But I do when we’re drifting along the fingers of the lake, sans cellphone service with copious amounts of sunshine.
And I do when I am rain soaked and sweat-ladden looking out over the valley I have been so fortunate to call home for the last twenty-eight plus years…
More often than not I crash on my mountain bike.
I get dirty.
And banged up.
But I usually learn something. And get up stronger.
I think about things from a different perspective, because getting outside of the grind (both physically and mentally) not only allows my “work” and “play” lives to cohabitate, but it serves as a much needed and constant re-evaluation button. There’s just something about being out there that works as a catalyst for me to be a better person. To be more thankful. To count my (many) blessings. To push myself. Physically and mentally. To be kinder, to really live, disconnect from the treadmill. To shut off my phone, and my work emails.
These little betrayals of my weekend life peek through into the office by way of massive leg bruises or scrapes across my knees. But they function as helpful reminders of what is most important and who I want to be.