One year ago, I spent my Fourth of July running into Salida, Colorado with my teammates. We were part of 4K for Cancer, a fundraiser created by the Ulman Foundation. Last year, two running and two biking teams spent their summer traveling across the country to raise money for young adults impacted by cancer.
That was one of the most impactful summers of my life. For seven weeks, I challenged myself, physically, mentally and spiritually, more than I ever had before. I met twenty of the most incredible people I have ever known, who have continued to dedicate their lives to helping others. An entire summer was dedicated to a cause much bigger than myself, and I will never regret that experience or the memories I made on that trip.
But that was the summer my chronic health illnesses, which I had spent years trying to improve, became so much worse. My self-confidence was crushed. I felt labeled by my disease. I hated the idea that my health was burdensome on anyone. The last year has been a battle against those still worsening health conditions, which ultimately lead me to being on the new supplements and diet that have made this trip a bit more complicated.
This morning, I woke up in Salida, Colorado, ready to once again spend the Fourth of July in one of the most beautiful states in America. Last year, I would never have dreamed that I would be returning to Colorado so soon, nor that I would be watching the fireworks from the same place that I did then. And I could have never imagined that the man I was dating then, the man I had probably bored my teammates by talking about so much, would be here with me, and that we would be engaged.
We began our day with a morning hike at Waterdog Lakes. Joseph had chosen the trail because he realized we had not yet done a lake trail in Colorado. When we arrived at the trail head, we met Troy, a Colorado local from Denver who told us to keep hiking to the second lake because it’s better than the first. Armed with that knowledge, we began trekking up the steep incline of the mountain. We passed cascading waterfalls, climbed rocky paths, and wound through lush pine trees before finally arriving at the first, clear, blue lake.
The second lake was more difficult to find. While searching, we met up with two other Colorado locals, Hannah and Olivia, speech pathologists from Colorado Springs. They had met in graduate school in Iowa, and they just happened to both accept jobs and move to the same apartment building in the same week, just before the novel coronavirus shut down the country. Enjoying the extra company, the four of us continued our search for the trail. What we ended up doing instead was climbing up a pile of boulders that led us to where the lake was nestled between the trees and mountain peaks. We said farewell to our new friends at the top and sat for a few minutes to enjoy the view before beginning the long walk down. It had taken us two hours to get to the top of the mountain, and there were thunder clouds once again threatening us in the distance.
Luckily, we made it to the bottom safely, just as Troy and his family were finishing their hike. We talked with him about the hike, and he recommended another trail just a few miles up the road at Monarch Crest. Joseph excitedly proposed that we wake up early for a sunrise hike tomorrow morning before beginning the drive to Maryland, and I agreed.
We headed to Salida next to spend our last day in Colorado relaxing and enjoying our time together. Just as we parked, the clouds began to sprinkle rain on us, so we hurriedly packed a lunch and headed to the park. We huddled under a tree to eat. In the middle of the park, a crowd was gathered to watch traveling circus performers from Chicago. We watched the dancing performers and trapeze artists from a distance, gasping when we were fooled into thinking a trick went wrong and applauding enthusiastically at the end of each act.
Main street was our next destination. We walked the shops, pausing to eat a scoop of ice cream and dairy-free gelato from a local parlor and to buy lattes from a small coffee shop.
The afternoon flew by, and before we knew it, the fireworks were only a few hours away. We made dinner at our car and then walked around the park and neighborhoods for an evening stroll. As the sky grew dark, we returned to our car, where we set up pillows to sit outside and watch the fireworks. We had parked just below the memorable “S” mountain in Salida, where the letter is painted in white near the top peak. For Independence Day, the “S” was lit up with white lights and a string of red lights formed a heart around the letter. We finally opened the personal-sized wine bottles we had been saving for just this occasion and toasted our final evening in Colorado.
The festivities began just after the world finally grew dark. Mountain bikes strung with lights appeared from the top of the mountain and wound their way down in an ant line formation. The crowd cheered enthusiastically, prompting one young spectator nearby to ask his parents if the bikers were famous.
The expectation in the crowd mounted as the bikers finished their descent. We all waited excitedly for the first boom and crack that lit up the night sky.
As bright colors filled the sky and gold dust rained down toward the mountain, I couldn’t help but think about the journey that brought me there (and I’m not just referring to the last two weeks). The last year of my life has been a journey that brought me to this moment. It has not been an easy year – between personal health struggles, starting my own business, the coronavirus pandemic, and so much more, this has been a tough year for me and many people. But there is no doubt in my mind that it has been the best year of my life, and a lot of that is owed to the man that was sitting beside me, watching the fireworks. I have grown a lot in the last year, and with his support, I have learned more about myself and who I am with my health problems, not who I am because of them.
So, there I was, back in Salida, Colorado, sitting beneath the fireworks, exactly where I was a year ago. In that moment, it was as if nothing had changed. But I came back to this place changed. I am now older, stronger, and more confident than the last time I was here.
There was something poetic about ending a chapter of my life with fireworks crackling above my head. Sitting there, my head rested on Joseph’s shoulder in one of the most beautiful places in the world, I could not think of a better place to begin the next part of my story.
