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Colorado road trip: Day 16

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After nearly two-and-a-half weeks, our road trip adventure has come to an end.

Our morning began at a popular rest stop parking lot in Ohio. We did a quick bodyweight workout to get our muscles stretched and moving before the long car ride we had planned. While I was getting ready, Joseph found a coffee vending machine that gave us the delicious elixir for a fraction of the price we normally pay. Armed with caffeine and a sugary breakfast, we began our trip home.

Our main objective today, besides driving home, was to pick up my engagement ring. After nearly a month, it was finally ready for pick-up. The only problem was this: The ring store closed at six o’clock, which gave us very little time to rest during our drive. We knew we could make it, but we had to skip lunch to do it. This, however, seemed like a small price to pay for finally having the symbol of our engagement back where it belonged.

The unfortunate roadblock to our success came at three o’clock. Joseph received a phone call from Stevenson University, which seemed odd to both of us because he graduated from that school in May. When Joseph answered, we discovered it was a call from the security office. 

“I just received a call from a gentleman in Pennsylvania who has found your wallet,” the security officer said. Joseph and I both looked at each other in shock, and then, as if it were even possible to find it, we began looking around the car for the misplaced item. 

“I’m not sure if you even knew it was missing,” the security officer continued. 

“No, I didn’t,” Joseph said as reality set in for both of us. We had stopped for gas in Pennsylvania…three hours ago. 

The security officer gave us the phone number of the man who found the wallet. Joseph called the number, but the man, identified as Cliff by his voicemail, did not answer. We began the drive back, hoping to receive a return call soon.

As actuality of what was happening finally set in, I began to cry. I was disappointed about the ring, of course, but I was more upset because I believed that it was my fault. Joseph had given me his wallet to fill up the car with gas while he visited the restroom. I realized that I must have left it at the pump, which meant that the added six hours of driving, the lost opportunity to pick up my ring, and the little rest and recovery we were actually going to get tonight were my fault. 

Joseph tried in vain to console me as I sobbed in the seat beside him. I could see he was close to laughing about the situation, but I could not seem to join him in his amusement. 

We received a call about 30 minutes into our drive from Cliff. He was a kind, older gentleman who lived in Pennsylvania. He said he had found the wallet on an on-ramp to the highway. Confused by this, Joseph and I both looked at each other. 

“We must have left it on top of the car,” Joseph said, which begged a new question: Which of us left it there? Did I put the wallet there while trying to purchase gas? Or did I return the wallet to Joseph, when he had been unable to find a restroom, and then he put it on the car while he finished pumping the gas? 

After we told Cliff how far away we were, he told us it did not make much sense for us to drive all that way. 

“I will just mail it to you tomorrow,” he said. A spark of hope ignited in both of our hearts. We thanked him profusely, and as Joseph gave Cliff his address, he drove the car onto an exit to turn it back in the direction of Zales.

We lost an hour of driving, but we were both now in happier spirits. Not knowing who left the wallet was the best situation because both of us have a tendency to be angry at ourselves but almost never at the other person. We could not help but laugh and shake our heads at the irony of losing his wallet on the last day of our trip.

We arrived at Zales with thirty minutes to spare. At last, my ring was returned to where it belonged. I did not realize how much I had missed it until I had it back. It seems so simple, so insignificant, but it honestly feels like the last part that was missing inside of me has fallen back into place. This ring is a reminder and a symbol of the promise I have made. It brings me joy every time I look at it. 

Our beautiful engagement pictures were taken by the very talented Jon Mauler. To see more of his incredible work, visit his website: https://www.jonmauler.com/

The rest of the ride home was uneventful. We sipped on lattes even though it was far too late to drink espresso; at our level of exhaustion, nothing was going to keep us awake tonight. We listened to music and savored our last few moments together before life became normal once again.

“What should be our final song,” Joseph asked me minutes before arriving home. Music was one of the first things we ever connected on, and it has remained a core part of our relationship. We have a theme song for nearly every moment spent together. 

“You choose,” I told him. I trust his taste in music as much I trust him with my future.

A moment later, he had turned on the song Colorado by CHAPPY. As I knew it would be, this song was the perfect choice. We listened together, thinking back over all of our memories: The mountain hikes; strolling main streets with coffee in hand; our fights and our moments of bliss; the long drives; camping under the stars; exploring the wilderness outside and within ourselves, and finding it was much less intimidating than we thought; and our perfect moment beneath the fireworks, a celebration and a resolution to an unforgettable journey.

Our travels were filled with twists and turns. It had metaphorical and physical mountains we had to climb and conquer, which lead to views and resolutions too incredible to describe. When we began this trip, I thought it was just going to be a celebration of our engagement. I did not realize that we were both looking for something when we embarked on this adventure. 

The song ended with the sentiment, “I am unfinished. Yes, I am not done. Still, it’s up here in the mountains, I defined my home.” As the final chord struck, Joseph turned to me. 

“And it’s you,” he said. “You are my home.” I smiled as we pulled onto the road leading to my house. 

“You are my home and my adventure all at once,” I told him. 

This chapter of my story has ended. I cannot wait to write the next one with him.

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Colorado road trip: Day 15

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I did not realize how clean and refreshing the air in Colorado was until I woke up this morning in a hot, sweaty car, condensation dripping down the windows in the muggy Kansas morning air. I was covered in bug bites thanks to the mosquito that decided to sleep with me last night. I longed so much to return to the mountains of Colorado, but this was the morning of our  second day driving back to Maryland.

Joseph and I started the day with a 5K run around the lake we slept next to. The humidity we had forgotten was heavy in our lungs. We were dripping in sweat only a mile into the run. Nevertheless, we pushed through, and at the end we rewarded ourselves with an unconventional bath in the lake. Joseph had the smart idea of placing our soap and loofah in one of our plastic food containers; it served as a makeshift bath caddy that floated in the water next to us.

The water actually felt refreshing after our run. I was reluctant to get out, but we had a long day of driving ahead of us. Our hope was to make it to Columbus, Ohio, which was eleven hours away. To do this, we would also be crossing over a time zone line, which meant we were going to lose an hour of daylight. But, we were determined to get as close to Maryland as possible so we had less driving tomorrow. Our main motivation for this was to pick up my engagement ring. Our route home is supposed to take us through the town the store is in, but if we don’t get there by six o’clock tomorrow evening, we won’t have a chance to pick it up for at least another week. 

We began the drive, both tired from the previous long day of traveling. For much of the morning and afternoon, we were quiet. We listened to podcasts and music, and we tried to relax as much as we could while our backs ached from sitting for so long.

Near the end of the afternoon, we decided to listen to a podcast about my enneagram. The enneagram is a personality test that Joseph and I were interested in at the beginning of this trip. We both figured out which enneagram we are (I am a two and Joseph is a three), but after that, Joseph did much more soul-searching and discovering than I did. A week ago, he mentioned a podcast he wanted to listen to with me about my own personality, but I had put it off until today. 

It was illuminating. I feel like I have not understood myself until this moment in my life. Everything about my actions, my motivations, and my thoughts actually makes sense now. The thing that characterizes twos is their desire to give and receive love, which is so strong that it can be achieved in unhealthy ways, such as neglecting self-care and manipulating others. The way to solve this is to make time for taking care of one’s own needs, which then gives the two enough energy to give more love to others without expecting anything in return.

As I have mentioned a few times, I have been struggling with my health for the past year. One of the main reasons for this is because I let it get so much worse than it needed to before finally dealing with it. I thought it was selfish to spend the time and money to take care of myself, as well as to express any needs I had to others. However, because of this, I felt so unfulfilled in the last year because I did not have any energy to engage in the normal service and giving that I am used to doing. I always felt like I was not doing enough for others, which only fueled my disappointment in myself. This, in turn, demotivated me even more to take care of myself.

It has been a vicious cycle, but I am learning now that it is important to love myself in order to love others well. It is the message I have been trying to grasp onto in the last year, but I think now I finally understand it. 

The most important thing that I have to remember is this: While loving relationships are important, God is my source of love and care. He gives me everything I need. He loves me unconditionally. I do not need love from others to fill my cup; He is what sustains me. He delights in me and who I am because He created me. And He wants me to rest when I need to and to take care of myself so that I am able to do the work He has created me for.

I was honestly disappointed about the idea of going home after such an amazing trip, but having this knowledge fills me with such excitement about my future. I think something finally clicked into place, and now I feel like myself again. 

After learning more about my enneagram, Joseph and I talked more deeply about  each of our personalities. I find it interesting how we approach so much of life similarly, yet for such different motivations. It is important to me to serve others, both because I am filled by loving others and because I have an intrinsic belief that this is how I will receive love (which is not necessarily true). Joseph wants to serve others because he believes that is the ultimate way to live, and he is motivated by his desire for personal achievement and to not disappoint others or himself. On the outside, it looks as if we are doing the same thing, but on the inside, we have two very different internal battles taking place.

One of the most important things for any relationship is communication. The fact that we know about each others’ personalities, motivations, and thought processes helps us to have better empathy and compassion for each other. I feel that this trip has helped us both understand one another on such a deeper level, and I am excited to see what impact that will have on our future together.

Joseph and I stopped for dinner at a rest stop. We watched the sunset, feeling content and satisfied. This trip has been an amazing journey for so many reasons. We have learned more about ourselves, each other, and who we are together. 

Based on what I have discovered, I could not be more enthusiastic and hopeful about our future together.

P.S. There will be more to come on the enneagram soon, and a little challenge for you! Check out the blog next week for my journey deeper into self-discovery and, hopefully, actualization.

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Colorado road trip: Day 14

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When I woke up, the world around me was still dark. The car had grown cold in the last few hours. I snuggled deeper into my sleeping bag, wondering how much longer I had to rest.

Just then, the alarm on my phone began to blare. A small, internal grown escaped me. I shut off my alarm and allowed my head to fall back into my pillow, exhausted. Four o’clock had arrived far too early.

I pulled myself out of my sleeping bag as Joseph rolled out of his hammock. We cleaned up our campsite in silence and drove to a nearby gas station to get ready. 

Our first and only stop today was Monarch Crest Trail at the Continental Divide, the site where mountains separate the rivers that flow into the Pacific Ocean from those that flow into the Atlantic Ocean. The sun was just starting to rise as we began hiking up the steep incline of the trail. We watched the light touch the tops of trees and the mountain peaks. The moon, which we have watched grow throughout our trip, sat just above the mountains in the distance, finally full and bright. 

“Tyler, I have a feeling this just might be one of the best views we have ever seen,” Joseph said. 

We were looking for a particular point Troy, a fellow hiker, had told us about yesterday. However, after three miles of walking, we still had not found it. We knew we must have taken a wrong turn, but today was the day we were supposed to begin our long drive back to Maryland, so we did not have time to search for it. I suggested we return to the car, but Joseph, who had a vision of the view he wanted to see, insisted we continue a little farther. After another half mile, it became apparent that we were not going to reach the top of the summit anytime soon, at least not by any conventional means. 

The thing is, Joseph has never lead me on a conventional hike. When it became apparent there was not enough time to get to the point we wanted, Joseph turned instead off of the trail and straight up the mountainside. I followed him up towards the summit, scrambling over rocks and grass, my legs and lungs burning from the exertion. The mountainside was steep and the elevation was increasing rapidly. It felt as if there was not even enough air to sip on.

Just before I thought I would not be able to go any farther, the land began to level. Before I knew it, we were at the top. 

The view was breathtaking, both literally and metaphorically. It was by far the best view we had seen during our entire trip in Colorado. Mist gathered beneath the peaks that stretched up towards the blushing morning sky. The pine trees basked in the bright sun’s glow while quarts crystals glistened beneath our feat. We were surrounded by land left nearly untouched by human hands, free to fully express its beauty without any constraints, and it was stunningly magnificent. 

I could have spent hours at the top of that mountain, drinking in the arresting view. However, Joseph and I both knew our time in Colorado had finally come to an end. We had already extended our original trip, but this view was more than worth the time spent getting here. This was the epic Colorado finale that we never could have planned. 

We stumbled back down the side of the mountain to the marked trail. I checked my watch, and I was dismayed to see that it was already the time we wanted to get back to our car, which we were currently 3.5-miles away from. Not wanting to waste any more time, Joseph and I both broke into a run.

Luckily, the trek up the mountain was far more difficult than the trip down. We sidestepped rocks and skidded down the dirt, letting the clean Colorado air fill our lungs and souls.

Just before reaching the bottom of the mountain, we met up with a group of bikers just beginning their journey. They asked us about our hike and how far we went. The entire trail is 13 miles, which we, unfortunately, did not have enough time to traverse today. We told them about the incredible view we did see, and our failed plan to start driving back to Maryland this morning at 7:30.

“Oh, I don’t think you’re going to make it,” one biker joked, glancing at his watch. The time was 8:15.

“Oh, really, I think we can do it,” I replied back with a laugh.

“Hey, we’re all Christians,” one biker said to the group. “Do you all mind if I pray before we get started?”

“Oh, wow, we’re Christians, too,” Joseph said. “Do you mind if we join you?” 

So, we gathered with the bikers in a circle, our heads bowed and eyes closed. The biker who had invited us all to prayer spoke, thanking God for this opportunity for people from all over the world to gather in this place to appreciate His beautiful creation. I felt tears brimming in my eyes as I felt the love of God surge through that group of people, all from different places with different backgrounds, gathered in a place indicative of the magnificence of His handiwork. 

The moment was over almost as quickly as it began. The bikers said goodbye and began their journey up the mountain as Joseph and I finished running down. We ate a quick breakfast at the car, bought a postcard and sticker to remember our experience, and then began our long drive. 

Joseph drove the first four hours. We stopped at a gas station to fuel our car and our bodies, and then I drove the next few hours to another rest stop, where we bought coffee. We decided then to make another stop for dinner, and then to drive late so we could make as much progress toward our final destination as possible. While we drove, we sang along to our favorite songs, listened to podcasts, called family members, and began talking more about future nuptial plans. All the while, a sense of bittersweet contentment filled us. We are on our way home.

The last two weeks have been amazing, but every good thing must come to an end. We are tired and ready for real showers, comfortable beds, and good coffee we don’t have to pay an hour’s wages for. But we also know that returning home means the end to an incredible adventure and returning to lives where we live hours apart and have other responsibilities competing for our time and attention.

However, it’s the finitude of moments in life like this that makes them sweet. There is beauty in endings. I have learned so much about myself and my relationship with Joseph during this trip, and I am ready to use that knowledge in my everyday life. This is the end of one chapter, but it also the beginning of a new adventure that I am just as excited for.

Until then, I have two days left in the car to soak up every last moment of this journey. 

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Colorado road trip: Day 13

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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.

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Colorado road trip: Day 12

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Today was supposed to be our first day driving back home. We were going to stop by Omaha, Nebraska to spend a day there, and then we planned to slowly make our way back to Maryland. Instead, we are spending two more days in Colorado, and I could not be more thrilled.

Our first stop today was Cheyenne Mountain State Park. We didn’t have enough time to hike the mountain itself, so we chose a 6.3-mile trail that still promised great views and a decent elevation. 

The trail wound around itself, leading us through unnecessary loops in the hot sun. Our exasperation mounted when we discovered that we had made a wrong turn and we had to backtrack a quarter-mile. 

We were both relieved when the trail led us out of the grassy field and into the cool shade of the trees. A distant thundercloud grew closer, giving us a cool breeze and protecting us from the sun’s rays. 

Unfortunately, the views from below the mountain were not spectacular, so we focused more on our conversation than our surroundings. We talked about future plans, both growing more excited by the minute. When we had the chance to turn back, we decided to hike a little longer to finish out the loop. By the end of the hike, we were both exhausted but felt accomplished. Our hike had extended over an extra two miles and had taken up over three hours of our day.

We ate lunch at a picnic table in the park, and then we headed to downtown Colorado Springs. We bought lattes and strolled as we sipped. The sidewalks were crowded with people, many of whom seemed to have forgotten that there is a pandemic. Joseph and I were two of the few people wearing masks. We dipped into a few shops, but there were not many that sparked our interest, so we left soon after and headed to Pikes Peak, one of Colorado’s 14ers (mountains in Colorado with an elevation of at least 14,000 feet) and the spot that inspired the song “America the Beautiful” by Katherine Lee Bates.

As we drove up the windy mountain road, I saw something that awoke the child at heart in me. We found Santa’s workshop.  

The North Pole near Colorado Springs is really just a small amusement park (which was, unfortunately, shut down when we visited) and a gift shop. Despite this and Joseph’s exasperated reminders that it was July, I still felt so joyful surrounded by Christmas trees and sweaters. 

After perusing the shop, Joseph and I continued the drive up the mountain as the first few drops of rain fell. The distant thunder cloud from this morning had finally reached us.

We reached the gate for Pikes Peak, where the attendant told us it would cost $15 per person. The price seemed a bit steep, even for such a tall, majestic mountain. Besides this, the rain was beginning to fall more earnestly, and the attendant told us if it got any worse, the mountain would most likely be closed. Not wanting to pay the money if we wouldn’t even get the reward of the view, we decided to turn back and drive down the mountain.

It was a good choice. Just as we reached the parking lot of Santa’s workshop, the light rain turned to a downpour, and then a hailstorm. Joseph and I stared as marble sized pieces of ice pelted our windshield. 

We decided to start the drive to Salida earlier than expected. That, too, was a smart choice  because traffic slowed our progress. When we did arrive, it was still raining, so we tied our tarp to nearby trees to create a makeshift shelter. Underneath this, we made dinner and set up camp.  

Nothing today went according to plan. It was filled with impromptu choices and adventures. But that’s okay, because this entire day was an impromptu choice, an unexpected part of our  impromptu road trip adventure. Planning is great, and I am glad we planned as much as we did for this trip because it made it possible for us to visit so many amazing places and see so many beautiful views. Sometimes, though, the best days are days like today, when nothing goes according to plan, but the journey itself and the good company make it more than worth it. 

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Colorado road trip: Day 11

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I had forgotten how amazing it felt to sleep in a bed. I woke up huddled in blankets, my head gently rested on a pillow, my body cuddled by the mattress. For the first time in over a week, I felt well-rested, and I started my day without any aches and pains. 

Joseph and I both showered to take advantage of the luxury of indoor plumbing while we still had it. Then we packed up our belongings and returned to our road trip lifestyle as if the last 18 hours of lavish comfort had never happened. 

Our plan for today was to spend the entire day in the city we had been most excited to visit – Denver. Before we left, I searched for the best coffee shops in the area. We chose to go to Huckleberry Roasters (Huck), even though the reviews said it was pricey, because, with its two U.S. Roaster Championship awards, it is supposed to be one of the best places to get coffee in the country. The cafe, like last night’s restaurant, was somewhere we never would have found had we not been looking for it. It was outside of downtown Denver, just on the outskirts of a neighborhood. The storefront had a brightly painted mural that attracted the eye, but never would I have known by the appearance that it was supposedly the best coffee in the city. Joseph and I each ordered an iced latte and sat at a picnic table in front of the store. 

All our expectations were met. The coffee was a tad over-priced – six dollars for a latte is a bit much – but it was the best we had ever tasted. The milk was steamed to a silky perfection that blended smoothly with the richness of the espresso. Satisfied, we headed to City Park for a late morning walk while we sipped on our coffee. 

It was hotter than we expected. As we walked around the park, sweat poured down my forehead and pooled in the crease of my elbow that was bent to hold my drink. All we managed was a short stroll before deciding to head downtown, hoping the shops would at least provide some air conditioned relief. 

Our first mission in the city was to find a restroom, which was a lot more difficult than I thought it would be. Denver began to lose its magic after thirty minutes of searching without any luck. We finally stumbled along some public restrooms in the downtown mall, but we needed a code to unlock the doors. To obtain this code, we had to purchase an item from a local shop; then the cashier would reveal the secret numbers to us. 

At this point, we were both losing patience. Luckily, someone exiting the men’s bathroom held the door open for Joseph, and just as I was about to give up, a friendly custodian, who must have seen the desperation in my eyes, unlocked the women’s bathroom door for me. 

By now, Joseph and I were hungry for lunch, so we sat on a bench in the mall and ate the picnic we had packed. Once our stomachs were full, we began to peruse the shops. 

Last night, driving through Denver, I had felt that magnetic energy I had experienced last summer. Gazing up at the lights, I was enamored once again by the dynamism of the city set against the beautiful backdrop of distant mountains. But today, amid the current climate of the pandemic and recent riots, Denver revealed itself to be a city like any other. We were approached by people desperate for money, and people far too high to remember why they approached us. Many of the shops were closed, some temporarily and others permanently, including the bookstore I had fallen in love with last summer, where two locals had written personalized poem just for me. Glass windows of shops had been boarded up and graffitied. The hashtag GEORGEFLOYD appeared everywhere, from spray-painted murals to electronic billboards flashing down at us. 

Despite how separated we have felt during this trip from the tragedies and challenges of the last few months, we have not escaped the troubling lives we left behind. In less than a week, we will be back in Maryland, and I am sure our lives will go back to the way they were before. Nothing will have changed. 

My only hope is that we will come back changed. I hope we return to our lives more compassionate, more worldly, more empathetic than when we left. I hope we will have more perspective about the current state of affairs in this country, and perhaps that will help us to know better how we can serve those around us. The reality is that the world around us has not changed, but that does not mean we cannot bring change to our personal realities. 

When we reached the end of the 16th street mall, we sat on the steps of a closed store to rest and figure out where we wanted to go next. To our immense disappointment, we discovered the fireworks scheduled for tonight were cancelled. Just in the last week, Denver decided not to encourage any more crowds than were already congregating. Our original plan was to see the fireworks tonight as a finale to our trip in Colorado, and then we would take our time driving back to Maryland. However, we decided it was more important for us to see the fireworks in this state than to spread out the driving time during our trip back. 

So, sitting on those steps in the heart of Denver, we decided to extend our time in Colorado by two more days, and we began to plan which attractions we wanted to add to the trip. We found a fireworks show in Salida (which is, ironically, where I saw the fireworks a year ago), so we based our itinerary on that. 

We headed back to the car, nervous but excited about our new plan. The first thing that needed to happen to make this extended trip work was we needed to buy more food. There was enough to fuel us for a few days of driving, but not for days of hiking and other, more strenuous activities. We stopped by a Walmart on our way to Colorado Springs to pick up food and finally reach a resolution to another important journey we have been on: the hunt for low-FODMAP ice cream.

I have been craving ice cream since this trip began, and I reached my breaking point last night after dinner. We had stopped at gas stations, supermarkets, and ice cream shops last night and earlier today, but we had not had any luck. However, in the frozen section of Walmart, we found one, small ice cream bar that I could eat. Bolstered by this, we drove to the same Bass Pro parking lot we had stayed at a few days ago, where we hurriedly made dinner. As another treat for ourselves, we had bought a small bag of shrimp to eat with the rice we had packed for the trip. It was a nice change from the canned tuna and chicken we have been eating for days. 

By the time we ate the ice cream, it had melted to the consistency of a milkshake, but it was still just as tasty as it would have been frozen. 

Joseph set up his hammock while I prepared the back of the car for me to sleep. The night spent in a bed seemed like a distant memory. But, as I laid down to rest, I couldn’t help but think of how privileged I am. I, too, have struggled during this pandemic because of my compromised immune system and a lack of work, but I have been blessed with an incredible support system that has helped make sure I have been taken care of. I am not wanting for anything. And while some people are worrying about food, illness, and riots, I am on a road trip in one of the most beautiful states in America with my fiancé. While some people are facing challenges simply because of the color of their skin, I am on the adventure of a lifetime with a beautiful ring and a future full of opportunity waiting for me when I return home. 

The world has not changed. I realize that this road trip is a blessing, that all of the inconveniences, difficulties, and challenges we have faced during it are nothing in comparison to what many people face in their daily lives. I know that the challenges I have always faced in my life, from being a woman, from struggling with chronic illness since the age of 10, from simply being human, cannot compare to what other people have experienced.

But I have changed on this trip. Even in these short 11 days, I have grown and matured, and I have gained new perspectives of this world around me. I have learned more about myself and others, and I have grown stronger. I am ready to return home and find where I belong to do good in this world. There is so much in me that I am ready to share; this blog is just a start. 

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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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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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Colorado road trip: Day eight

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I woke up to the car door opening, which, under normal circumstances, would be alarming, but I knew instinctively who was entering. Joseph laid down in the backseat beside me and held me close to him.

“Tyler,” Joseph called quietly. I opened my eyes and looked up at him, waiting. 

“I had the conversation with myself,” he said, “and I’ve had it many, many times before. I can’t imagine doing life without you. I can’t imagine losing you.”

Yesterday’s conversation was rough, but I wouldn’t trade it for how I feel in our relationship now. Everyone gets “cold feet” after a big life decision, and getting engaged is one of the biggest decisions either of us have ever made. Yesterday’s conversation was the culmination of a long trip with little sleep and the doubts creeping in that everyone has but no one ever talks about. Now on the other side of that conversation, I feel that our relationship is even stronger than before. Our relationship is so much better because we were willing to be transparent with how we felt and to share our doubts and fears with one another. From this point on, we can grow together. 

Relationships are hard. I believe the key to making them just a bit easier is open communication. Yesterday’s conversation is actually one of the reasons why I am so confident in my relationship with Joseph and in our future together. We talk about everything. We are always honest with one another, and our communication is always focused on solving the problem and communicating with transparency and kindness, not in winning the argument. I know yesterday was not the last time we are going to have a tough conversation, but I am confident that, when future struggles arise, we are going to work through them together and our relationship will only become stronger. 

Super big thank you again to Jon Mauler for taking our engagement pictures! Look at more of his incredible work on his website, https://www.jonmauler.com/

We packed up the car and drove to a nearby Walmart to get ready. Just after exiting the car, we were greeted by a small mastiff puppy. Her owner ran up behind her, apologizing, but Joseph and I were much too involved in puppy cuddles to be bothered.

“What’s her name,” Joseph asked.

“Athena,” her owner said. “She’s six weeks old. She’s normally really shy around people, but they say dogs can tell who good people are, and she seems to like you two a lot.”

“Oh, well, we like her, too,” Joseph said, smiling. 

This, to me, felt like nothing but further confirmation in the resolution of our earlier relationship troubles. Two weeks ago, when we had been on a day trip, Joseph wanted to come up with adventure nicknames for us. He chose Raven, because he likes the poem “The Raven” by Edgar Allen Poe, and because he is RAVENous for adventure. Based on this, I chose Athena, because in the poem “The Raven” (which I also love), the raven lands on the bust of Pallas, a reference to Pallas Athena, the Greek goddess of wisdom. At first, I thought it sounded a bit conceited of me, but Athena was always my favorite of the Greek gods, and while Joseph is the one who is pushing us to try new things and go on new adventures, I feel like I am more often the voice of wisdom and calm that brings practicality to the journey. 

Athena, the puppy, ran to us, which confirmed to me that the energy between us was once again healed. Her name was just too perfect of a coincidence. While getting in some much needed puppy cuddle time, I exhaled my last little bit of unease from the previous days of this trip. Dogs really are the best source therapy. 

While I got ready in the Walmart bathroom, Joseph cleaned the car. We bought a few essentials, including bananas for breakfast, and then we were on our way. 

Our first stop was Garden of the Gods. The view did not disappoint. Instead of plunging into the ground, the canyons stood tall above us, towering with such majesty it was as if they belonged on Mount Olympus. My only complaints were that the heat was unbearable – it felt as if we were trying to breathe in an oven – and the trails were crowded with people. Joseph and I hurried through the main loop and then used a side trail to walk back to our car. I didn’t mind that so many people wanted to see the canyons, just as we did. It’s just that the magic of nature is somewhat diluted when they are surrounded by concrete paths and people taking photographs. 

As we walked back to our car, Joseph, who was in just as high of spirits as me, put his arm around my waist.

“I love you so much,” he said. “You are so inexpensive to me.” A pause followed this statement.

“Thanks,” I said sarcastically. He caught my tone and quickly realized his mistake. 

“Priceless,” he exclaimed. “I meant priceless!” 

It feels good for us to be back to normal. 

We tried to go to the visitors’ center, but the line was much too long and we were in a bit of a time crunch, so we headed straight to Bishop’s Castle instead. I had a fitness class scheduled over Zoom in just under two hours. As we drove along the mountain road, our phones lost signal, but we were hoping that we would be able to connect to wifi at the castle. To our dismay, when we arrived, we found the service was no better than before and the castle did not offer wifi. At this point, it had been about 45 minutes since we had service, and there was just about that much time until my class. We sped back down the mountain road, frustratedly backtracking on our road trip, until we found service just a few minutes before my class was about to start. Joseph drove the car onto a dirt side road, and I set up my laptop on the back of his car. It was an unconventional setting for a fitness class, but I am sure my students enjoyed the mountains in the background.

After the class, we ate a very late lunch and then drove back to Bishop Castle. As much as we hated having to drive the same route twice, the attraction was worth it.

Bishop Castle was constructed by one man, Jim Bishop, who has been building and adding to it for nearly 60 years. It’s the ultimate testament to perseverance. Joseph and I stood at the bottom, looking up at the monumental structure before us. The large stones adorned with ornate iron work gave the impression of elegance and sophistication. Upon entering the castle, we realized this was somewhat of a facade. The structure was amazing for two reasons, the first being that it was built by one man, and the second, that it did not completely collapse beneath us. We walked up the narrow stone steps to the towers built entirely by iron that shook  and swayed in the breeze. Our legs visibly shaking, we climbed to the tallest point and looked out at the mountains surrounding us. The view was incredible, but it was impossible to relax and enjoy it when we feared at any second we would be falling to our deaths. 

The castle was filled with different corridors leading to nausea-inducing spiral staircases, so it took us nearly an hour to explore. All the while, we were filled with nervous laughter and excitement. 

“The only thing to fear is fear itself,” Joseph called as we carefully stepped down iron steps that led to a stone platform without any railings. 

“I’m going to call B.S. on that one,” another visitor yelled out. “I think climbing tall, unstable towers like this are on the list of things to be afraid of.”

After Bishop castle, we began the three hour drive to Boulder, our last stop before our trip finale in Denver. When we arrived at our planned campsite, we were dismayed to see a sign that prohibited parking from dusk to dawn. To bolster our spirits, we each ate a Rice Krispies treat and took a quick stroll in the park to stretch our legs. Then, we got back on the road and drove another thirty minutes to a steep, mountain lane that led us to a lonely campsite in the forest. I set up the tent as Joseph made us grilled cheese sandwiches. We ate in the dark, sitting on the tarp in front of our tent, satisfied and relaxed.

I would be willing to experience a thousand days like yesterday to have just one day like today. It’s always so discouraging to have struggles in a relationship, but the growth we experience from those difficulties make all the other times spent together so much better. Every story has a setback; that’s what makes the comeback so sweet. As for Joseph’s and my journey…well, it’s still one of my favorite stories to tell.  

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Colorado road trip: Day seven

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Today, I finally woke up to the quintessential Colorado morning I have been waiting for. Shivering, I sat up in my sleeping bag, surrounded by pine trees and mountains adorned with snow. The air was clean and crisp in my lungs, leaving my body feeling refreshed and renewed. 

Joseph made us some coffee and we started driving. Our first stop today was Frisco. Originally, we had just planned on walking the main street, but last night, I found a short hike for us to do. Or, at least, I thought it would be a short hike. It was only four miles round trip. What I did not consider was that it was a hike up a mountain, and the reason the mileage was so short was because the trail went straight up with no place to rest or catch our breath. 

Mount Royal was one of the toughest but most rewarding hikes Joseph and I have done. Breathing heavily, we climbed the two miles upward, the equivalent of 140 floors on my FitBit watch. To put that into perspective, the empire state building is 102 floors. 

The view was more than worth it. On top of the summit, looking down on the world, we both felt accomplished and in awe of the beauty around us. From that height, the town of Frisco looked like a model village with little toy boats floating in the harbor. 

The trip down the mountain took us just as long as the hike up. It was not difficult, but the steep grade and loose rocks and dirt made it difficult to find our footing. Taking baby steps, we slipped and slid down the side of the mountain. About halfway down, Joseph was able to find some sticks that he fashioned into walking sticks, so the second half of the trek was much easier than the first.

On the way down, we met up with another couple from Maryland. Joseph excitedly announced to them that we are engaged, and they congratulated us. After we parted ways, Joseph turned to me.

“It’s so much fun to tell people,” he said. “It’s like I totally forgot that we were engaged, but then, telling other people gets me so excited again.” 

By the time we reached the bottom of the mountain, we were both starving. We grabbed our portable grill from the car and sat at a nearby picnic table, where we made chicken melt sandwiches. It was a satisfying meal after such a strenuous hike.

We then headed into town, where we bought lattes and walked main street. Joseph bought me a snow globe to commemorate our experience, and I bought a sticker for our scrapbook. We listened to a live band playing and strolled along the sidewalks painted with the word “love” in rainbow letters in multiple languages. 

By the time we had finished exploring, it was already three in the afternoon. We decided to head to Red Rock Canyon and save Boulder, our original next stop, until we headed back north. We drove, listening to music, both exhausted after the long day we had already experienced. 

I don’t remember what Joseph said. I know my feelings were a bit hurt when he said it, but that the comment was so inconsequential, I brushed it aside nearly instantly. I let it go, but he didn’t.

The next thing I knew, Joseph was broken down beside me, upset because he felt he kept hurting me on this trip. 

“Is it going to be like this for the rest of our lives,” he asked me. “Am I just going to keep hurting you? And what if I become someone that you don’t like – what are we going to do then? Is this really what you want?”

I was stunned. I didn’t know how to prove to this man any more than I already had how much I love him. He expressed that he was still feeling rejected; he still felt like there was something off between us, even though I had done everything I could think of in the last few days, and for all of our relationship, to make him feel loved. 

We parked at Red Rock Canyon, both a wreck, our tired eyes staring out of the windshield, not even seeing the landscape before us.

“I just don’t understand,” I said. “I don’t know what changed. We just got engaged, and we are on this trip that we have both dreamed of, and you just seem so unhappy.” I looked to him, my eyes posing the question that neither of us wanted to actually speak into existence: Do you even want to be engaged to me?

Joseph’s proposal – Photo creds go to Jon Mauler. If you want to see more of his amazing photography, visit https://www.jonmauler.com/

“Alright, let’s do what we did the other day,” Joseph said after what felt like minutes of silence. “Let’s get out of the car and try to step out of this situation, and then maybe we will be able to see more clearly what’s going on.” We exited the car. Joseph grabbed cereal for a snack while I walked across the parking lot to the restrooms. 

I am so glad I walked away. I needed a few moments alone to think. I sat for a moment, took a few deep breaths, and tried to clear my mind. Why wasn’t Joseph happy? Was it me? Was it something I did? Did he not want to be engaged? He didn’t seem to be excited to be engaged, which just baffled me because from almost the very beginning of our relationship, we have both been dreaming of this moment. 

And then it hit me. Just a week ago, sitting alone at home, just days after Joseph and I had gotten engaged, I remember not feeling so well either. I didn’t understand it at the time. My mother would ask me why I seemed upset, why I wasn’t more thrilled to share all the details of the proposal, why I didn’t seem like myself at all. And the answer I didn’t want to admit was because I was upset, because the proposal was something I didn’t want to talk about, and because I no longer felt like myself. 

I was thrilled to be engaged, but once the excitement of the proposal had gone away, it hit me just how big of a decision I had made. Before the proposal, Joseph and I had talked extensively about our future, engagement, marriage, kids…just about everything. We even read through a book, “101 Questions to Ask Before You Get Engaged,” and not even one red flag had appeared as we worked through it. I knew the proposal was coming, and up until the day of, I had always said that I was absolutely positive that it was what I wanted. And it is still exactly what I want.

Photo creds: Jon Mauler (Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/jonmauler/)

But when Joseph bent down on one knee, I had the length of two seconds to answer him. Of course, it was like a reflex – how could I not marry this man who had changed my entire life for the better? But after a few days, when the excitement wore off, I started to realize everything I was giving up. I knew it wasn’t a mistake, but I had to grieve for the life that I thought I was going to have for the first 21 years of my life, before I met Joseph. I would never become a travel writer, adventuring solo around the world and sharing my journey through my craft. I would never live the single life in an apartment in New York City, working as a waitress and trying to “make it big” like everyone else there. I was now looking at a very different future, one that I very much wanted, but that was entirely different from what I had imagined for most of my life.

When I exited the bathroom, I sat on the back of the car with Joseph by my side, eating my bowl of cereal, still contemplating my latest realization.

“I think I know what’s wrong,” I said.

“You do,” he asked.

“Yes, because what you’re going through right now, I went through last week,” I said, “And I just didn’t tell you about it.” Joseph stared at me. “If I’m wrong,” I continued, “it might be really bad. But if I’m right, it could really help us.”

“What is it,” Joseph asked. I gestured to his bowl my spoon. 

“Eat your cereal first,” I said. Joseph laughed. 

“That sounds good,” he said. We finished our snack, and then we started our hike up the barren red path winding through the cacti and underbrush. 

I told him everything I had thought about in the bathroom. I told him I had realized that the reason we couldn’t figure out why anything was wrong may just be what was wrong: We couldn’t understand why we were unhappy right after we got engaged, but maybe it was because we got engaged. That’s not to say that we both aren’t so incredibly happy to be engaged, that we would ever change our minds and not choose to spend the rest of our lives with one another. However, we just went through a huge life change and we need time to adjust and grieve for what we gave up. We are no longer our own person; we just agreed to soon become one flesh in holy matrimony.

“Tyler, I think that might be it,” Joseph said. “And I think it’s also that I just don’t feel like we’re engaged. We made this huge decision, and then nothing really changed. I mean, you’re not even wearing your ring!” My ring is currently being resized at Zales in Maryland. No longer wanting to have a bare finger, I am wearing a cheap Aeropostale ring that’s turning my finger green. 

“So, it’s normal to feel this way,” Joseph asked.

“I think so,” I said. “It’s a huge decision. I had these feelings before, but I don’t anymore, because I know whatever other future I could have had, it doesn’t even compare to the future I am going to have with you. I want to marry you. So, there were three things that helped me. One, I admitted what I was feeling. Then, I had a sit down conversation with myself, where I actually thought through what would have happened if I had said, ‘no.’ And I didn’t get far into that conversation before I started crying because it was terrible. And then, I think the last thing that you have to do to deal with a big life change is to start moving with it. I think big life changes are always intimidating until you start living it out, and then you realize it’s not so bad. I think right now we are intimidated by being engaged, but if we start actually planning the wedding, doing pre-marriage counseling, looking for places to live, I think we will realize that it’s actually something we can handle.”

Joseph took this in, and it was clear that his spirits were much more lifted than before. There was the old spring in his step that I had been missing this entire trip. 

“I am so glad we’re talking about this,” he said. “This is what actually makes me feel confident in our relationship. I feel so validated and seen by you. I remember seeing guys get cold feet right before their weddings, and I didn’t understand why, and I didn’t think that I would be that. But I think that’s what’s happening. And I don’t want that to happen anymore.” He paused. “So, I guess I am going to have that sit-down conversation with myself.” I took a nervous, deep breath and nodded. 

“I think you have to,” I said. 

“I love you,” Joseph told me.

“I love you, too.”

The sun began to set, bathing the canyons in red light. We hurried back to our car in the dark and made dinner on a nearby rock. It was late by the time we got on the road, headed to a Walmart parking lot to sleep. To our dismay, when we arrived, we saw a sign that said “No overnight parking.” Physically and emotionally exhausted, we drove another half hour to a Bass Pro Shop parking lot, where we emptied the back seat for me to sleep and set up Joseph’s hammock outside.

Alone in the car, I am both an emotional wreck and the most calm I have been in days. I am confident in our relationship, but there is, of course, that sliver of doubt that wonders if Joseph’s conversation with himself won’t go as I mine went with me. There’s that little bit of me that worries we won’t be climbing any more mountains together in the future. I am worried about losing both my fiancé and my best friend. 

But the thing is, I know this has been hanging over us the whole trip, and now it’s finally being laid to rest. From here on, we are once again on the same page of our story.

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