Travel

Colorado road trip: Day 10

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Be courageous.

When I woke up this morning, the shirt I changed into was the one I earned last summer when I ran across the country with the Ulman Foundation. It’s a bright yellow shirt, with the words “Be Courageous” emblazoned on the front in dark blue letters. It’s one of my favorite shirts, one that always reminds me of the feat I accomplished last year and that serves as a helpful reminder for my life. 

Already feeling encouraged, I excitedly began my day, even though the difficulties of this trip were starting to get to both Joseph and me. Our biggest complaint today was how badly we needed to shower. The way we smelled was starting to offend even us, so I can only imagine what other people thought. My feet, the one part of me I had not been able to get clean even in our makeshift outdoor showers, were caked in dirt. 

Luckily, we reserved an Airbnb for tonight in Denver. For much of our day, instead of being excited about the adventures we were experiencing, we were most looking forward to showering. Every hour, Joseph gave me the countdown of how long it would be until we would be clean again. 

We started our day with an easy two-and-a-half-mile hike with a view of the mountains in the background. We then stopped at a local library so I could teach a yoga class via Zoom, and then we headed to Chautauqua Park for a more strenuous afternoon hike. 

Per a local’s suggestion, we did the Flatiron trail. It was another two-and-a-half-mile hike, but this one had an elevation of over 1,400 feet. The trail took us straight up the side of the mountain with no place to rest. Breathing heavily, we managed to keep conversation going as we scaled the rocky landscape. 

“Is it worth it,” Joseph jokingly asked some hikers on their way down the trail.

“Oh, yes,” one woman said. “The view is always worth it.”

She was not wrong. Joseph and I sat at the top, feeling accomplished and satisfied. The flatirons resembled rockslides caught at a single, picturesque moment and left that way for eternity. The rocks formations slanted against the mountainside, creating three, nearly identical plates. In the distance, we could see the mountain we hiked yesterday against the backdrop of taller, snowier peaks. 

The trip down was long and tiring. My legs were shaking from the amount of exertion I have placed on them over the last few days. I was definitely ready for a good night’s rest. 

We ate a quick picnic lunch in the park, and then we began the drive to Denver. On the way, we stopped at a Starbucks to purchase lattes and the souvenir I have been most excited about. Last year during 4K for Cancer, one of my teammates, Illona, told me about the mugs she buys at Starbucks everywhere she visits. Each mug is designed for the particular city, state or country the Starbucks is located at, with the name of the place and images reminiscent of different landmarks located there. As a world traveler, she had mugs from many different countries. She told me how, when she had guests, she coyly would ask them from where they would like to drink their coffee: Paris? California? And then she would serve them coffee in the corresponding mug.

I thought it was such a cute idea at the time. Then, as Joseph and I grew more serious in our relationship, I thought it was the perfect souvenir for us to get on all of our travels together. We are avid coffee drinkers, and Starbucks stores are everywhere. We were bound to dip into one on all of our future travels at some point, so why not get a corresponding mug from each place to make a collection? 

The Colorado mug is the first of our collection. I can’t wait to see how many other mugs we will add to the shelf in our future home.

Our Airbnb was tall, blue house in a nice neighborhood just twenty minutes outside of Denver. The first and most important thing on both of our agendas was taking a shower. Joseph went first, and he came back looking refreshed, his shin a couple shades lighter now that the dirt was scrubbed from it. 

“I feel like a new man,” he told me. “I feel like we are a different species now.” 

I jumped up eagerly, grabbed my toiletries, and went into the bathroom. I turned the water the temperature up as hot as I could stand, and then I let it cascade down me, watching dirt run off my skin and into the drain. I massaged my head with shampoo until my fingers were numb, and then I scrubbed my skin until it felt raw. Even after all that, I’m not sure I was entirely clean, but I finally felt human again. I can’t even express how revitalizing that shower was. After ten days without one, it felt like a luxury.

Joseph and I relaxed in the room in our sweats until it was time to get ready for dinner. I had searched for the best places to eat in Denver and then carefully scanned the menus of each place for something I could eat on my new, restrictive diet. I found two places, and yesterday, Joseph and I made reservations at Roxy on Broadway. 

We dressed up in fancy clothes, he in khakis and a button-down red and black plaid shirt, and I in my classic little black dress. Feeling as if we were first-class citizens, not two young adults who had just spent the last week camping and sleeping in their car, we exited the house and approached our car. It seemed odd that we no longer matched our ride; while we had transformed our appearance in the matter of two hours, this car was a stark reminder of where we had actually come from, with its cracked windshield, duct-taped rooftop carrier, and dirt streaks. But this car had carried us all the way from Maryland to the last stop of this adventure; no other mode of transportation would be fitting to carry us to our celebratory dinner.

Roxy on Broadway was hidden away from the bustle of downtown Denver. With its garage-style door and simple, brick appearance, it could easily be overlooked. But inside, it was a 1920s era dream. Candle-lit chandeliers hung from the ceiling in front of the bar stacked with local liquors. Tables and chairs had been set up for customers to sit theatre-style in front of a small stage, where two musicians played. The menu featured classic prohibition-era cocktails, while the food was modern and diverse. 

The staff was pleasant and accommodating. When we had made a reservation, Joseph had written in the notes that I was on a low-FODMAP diet, something most people don’t and probably will never have to know about. While the menu featured multiple gluten-free and vegan options, it was difficult to be absolutely sure which selections would not aggravate my stomach. The chef, however, had already taken this into consideration. I was assured by our hostess upon arrival that he was fully aware of my needs. I ordered a kale salad, and the chef whipped up a homemade oil and vinegar dressing so that I could enjoy it without any adverse side effects. Meanwhile, Joseph enjoyed a pulled pork sandwich with a side of the best french fries I have ever tasted. They were substantial, crunchy on the outside, soft on the inside, and seasoned to perfection.

Joseph and I toasted all that we have accomplished and experienced together over these last few months in quarantine – his graduation, his birthday, and our engagement. It was our first drink together in a restaurant, and I am so glad we waited. It felt good to toast to life in a city a mile high in the sky. 

The musical entertainment for the night featured Erik Fellenstein, a Colorado local. He started his show with a guitar accompaniment, but the second half he performed by himself. Joseph and I stayed longer than expected to catch his full performance. We thoroughly enjoyed his jazzy, folksy style, and many times we caught ourselves laughing at his jokes. His songs were entertaining, both lyrically and instrumentally, and I was struck constantly by the breadth of his talent. He sang with soul, and he played the violin with a richness that is often lacking by musicians.

At the end of his performance, Joseph and I clapped with the rest of the crowd, sipped the last of our drinks, and then left to visit Larimer Square. To our disappointment, the lights strung across the street were still lit, but the shops were closed. Vowing to return tomorrow, we returned to our AirBnb for a much-needed night’s rest in a luxuriously warm and soft bed. 

Be courageous. It was the message on the shirt given to me after I had completed the most courageous adventure I have ever been on, and it is the message I still try to remind myself of every day. While 4K is still probably the most amazing feat I have ever accomplished, I have the opportunity every day to do something courageous. It took courage to go on this road trip, especially when I had just started such a strict and limiting diet for my health, which has been declining steadily for the past year. It took courage to have the tough conversations I have had with Joseph during our long car rides, and to explore deeper into my own psyche during those trying moments. It took courage to place my trust in another person, to be vulnerable with him, and to promise to spend the rest of my life with him, for better or for worse, in sickness and in health. 

These moments that take courage can be daunting at their best and absolutely petrifying at their worst, but as Joseph and I were reminded by that Boulder local during our hike today, the mountain is always worth the climb. The courage it takes is always worth the adventure it takes me on. 

Follow your dreams. Explore life outside of your comfort zone. Be courageous. You never know what amazing adventures life will have waiting for you when you do. 

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Travel

Colorado road trip: Day nine

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Once again, Joseph decided to terrify me as soon as we woke up. 

“I didn’t want to wake you last night,” he said, causing me to feel a strange sense of déjà vu from the beginning of our trip. “I heard bears all around our tent last night.”

“What?” I exclaimed. 

“Yeah, I actually heard one as soon as we got here last night, but I didn’t want to scare you so you could fall asleep,” Joseph said. I had heard footsteps last night, too, but Joseph had assured me it was just the people camping beside us. 

Luckily, our campsite was untouched. I was still exhausted, not because I had been up all night afraid of the bears searching for our food, but because I had been awake for much of the night trying to get warm. Up in the mountains just outside of Boulder, the air was frigid and the wind cut straight through the tent to where we had been sleeping. I normally sleep only with a pair of pajama pants and a T-shirt, but last night I had worn a pair of long johns, an Under Armour shirt, a long-sleeve running shirt, pajama pants, a hoodie, and a hat, and I was still huddled in a ball shivering in my sleeping beneath two extra blankets.

I had a morning Zoom meeting, so we headed to a Dunkin’, where Joseph bought me some espresso so I could focus. After the meeting, we headed into Boulder to hike Green Mountain. It was a baby mountain – half the height of the mountain we trekked just a few days ago – so Joseph and I felt relatively relaxed while trekking up. 

Breakfast before our morning hike up Green Mountain

Despite the lower elevation, the view was still stunning. Butterflies encircled us as we climbed the last final feet up a steep rock. Below us, the city of Boulder sat, and far above, taller mountains striped with snow dared us to hike higher. 

After spending minutes just soaking in the view, we started our trek back down. Near the end, we were passed by a woman wearing short shorts and tennis shoes. What I mean by that is she was only wearing only short shorts and tennis shoes. Joseph and I said “hello” as she passed. We both walked a few more paces before Joseph finally looked back at me, his eyes posing the question we were both waiting to ask: “Did you just see what I saw?” As I recalled her appearance, my inner eye automatically tried to put a shirt on this young woman because her lack of clothing seemed so strange to me.

But why did it seem strange? Men walk past me all the time without a shirt on, and I don’t even blink in their direction. And in movies and other media, I see scantily clad women all the time, even more often than I see their male counterparts. I also know how it feels to be a woman, to be out in the heat, perspiring through my shirt as the men I am with peel away their sweaty clothes with relief. It seems unfair. 

It is interesting how the fundamental values and world views that we are raised with are something we take for granted. We expect what is common knowledge to us to be common to everyone, when that just simply isn’t true. One thing I learned while at Stevenson University is that common knowledge is anything but common, as are my limiting world views created by my own upbringing.

In some ways, I almost envy this woman. She had a confidence about her that I have never known. By covering my body all my life, I have been taught to be ashamed of my curves and womanly features that are supposed to make me beautiful. 

Would I ever go hiking topless? Probably not, for many reasons, one being that I was raised to value modesty, and that means wearing a shirt, and also because I sunburn rather easily and that sounds terribly uncomfortable. But do I judge this woman? No. We may have differing opinions, but we are both human and just simply trying to enjoy a hike in the way that makes us feel most comfortable.

After our hike, Joseph and I ate a quick picnic lunch and then headed to downtown Boulder. We walked the brick-laden main street, perusing shops and stepping into those that piqued our interest. Joseph bought a hat, and I bought a sticker to commemorate our experience. We visited a chocolate shop, where he ordered a peanut butter truffle and I got a piece of dark chocolate coconut candy. Our favorite spot was a bookstore that has been a staple in Boulder since 1973. The Boulder Book Store spans three floors with books covering nearly every inch of it. Joseph and I eagerly explored, lingering over the most interesting titles and taking in the beauty of the classic ballroom filled with twisting plots instead of people.

After we had walked the extent of main street, Joseph and I settled ourselves on a park bench to relax and plan our last two days in Colorado. I cannot believe this trip is almost over. Just two weeks ago, road tripping to Colorado was merely an idea in our heads, and now, here we are, just an hour outside Denver, the city we have both been dreaming of returning to. 

As we took in the sights from that park bench, a man wearing what looked like faded, classic Arabian clothing and with bells tied around his neck sat on the patch of grass in front of us. After taking a long draw from the thickly rolled cigarette in his hand, he shook himself and began to move his hands and body in a way I can only associate with tai chi. 

My shirt is from End Hunger in Calvert, a cause that is dear to my heart. Their mission is to provide food and self-sufficiency to food insecure individuals in my hometown. Check out their website at https://endhungercalvert.org/.

Admonishing myself for staring, something my mother always chided me for, I couldn’t help but watch this man, wondering what his story was, where he came from, and what exactly he was currently doing. Luckily, I don’t think anyone considered what I was doing as rude – just about everyone around could not help but glance over every once in a while, and the man himself seemed to take little notice to any of us. 

It was getting late, so Joseph and I returned to our car and began the drive to our first campsite choice. It was a long, rocky dirt lane, filled with bumps and craters that threatened Joseph’s Mazda at every turn. As we drove farther into the site, it became clear that there were no open spaces left, but we were much too far in to consider turning around. Cringing, we continued driving down the road that looped around the campground, scraping up the bottom of the Mazda and often checking fearfully in the rear view mirrors to make sure we did not leave any car parts behind.

Luckily, we left the campsite with just a few scrapes but no serious damage. Discouraged, we drove another twenty minutes to where we camped last night. The loneliness of the site and the threat of bears had made us want to find a new place to sleep, but by now, the sun had set behind the mountains and we were running out of options.

We parked at the lowest site to be closer to the road and farther from the forest. I suggested that we sleep in the car because it would be warmer and safer, and to my surprise and relief, Joseph agreed. 

When we exited the car, we found a harsh wind had blown in since we left Boulder. It sliced through our clothes, leaving us both shivering and scrambling to get out of the elements as fast as possible. While I cleaned out the back of the car, Joseph made us dinner (tuna and chicken melt sandwiches). We turned on the heat in the car and ate in the back. Then we laid out our sleeping bags and settled in for another cool night in bear country.

Thinking back over my day, I couldn’t help but remember the two most interesting characters. Unfortunately, I don’t have names for either of them, and I don’t want to refer to them by their most obvious characteristics, so I will just call them “hiking woman” and “Boulder man.” I couldn’t help but wonder, once again, what their stories were. One of my favorite parts of traveling is all the incredible, interesting people I meet who are so different, and yet so similar, to myself. We are all human. I wish I had taken the chance to have a conversation with the hiking woman or the Boulder man. I honestly wish I had taken the chance to talk more to many of the people I have come into contact with on this trip. 

We are all people. As I’m writing this, I can’t help but think, with everything going on in the world right now, how often I have heard this message, and how little it seems to be sinking in. We are all human. We all have rights. We all deserve respect, love and understanding. We all desire to be heard, seen and valued, and one way we can gain self-respect and love is to extend that patience and kindness to others.

I will expand this message with one more. We are just human. This has two meanings: One, we are not perfect. We will make mistakes; sometimes we will be the toxic person that someone cuts out of their life. The important thing is to recognize where we have failed to love others well and then seek to better ourselves. 

And two, because we are just human, it is not our job to judge others. It is not our job to tell others if the way they are doing life seems wrong to us. It is our job to love others, just as they are. 

Travel reminds me of my humanness. It reminds me of what my basic needs are and what I truly desire in life. It reminds me of my limitations and my strengths.

Most importantly, travel reminds me that there is so much more to life that I know, and it is all there for me to experience if I am willing to do so with an open mind and heart.

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