De-Feeted, but Not Defeated. (Yeah, that just happened.)

March 2, 2017 by 1 Comment

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I was flying high on Christmas Day.

I’d just graduated a client to open a ton of free time heading into prime hiking season. My 3-1-3 plan (three days work, one day service, three days play) was within reach.

On Christmas, I flew up Camelback mountain, joked with Camelback Santa and his elves, and helped him haul his stuff down the mountain after his shift. Winter was all set to rock.

And then… Crunch.

On a light hike with two guys and a 7-year-old the next day, I mis-stepped and badly sprained my ankle. The next morning, I woke up with a cold I wouldn’t shake for two weeks.

The ankle sprain – which is still with me – threw me for a loop. I was ready to live big. Big hikes. Big trips. Big everything.

Suddenly, a Winter of playing in the desert transformed into weeks watching TV on my arse. I’d never watched so much college football in my life. Boohoo…

We met our service requirement by collecting $1500 and 2000 clothing items for Tempe teens at the Neighborhood Olympics.

Then football season ended.

Then a two-week minimalism project ended.

Then I got my taxes done. In January.

Then, de-feeted, I became defeated. (See what I did there?)

Finally, I realized that I was like way too attached to my ankle – not just physically, obvi, but emotionally too. My well-being was tied to walking and I needed options for when walking wasn’t one.

A Wasted Winter.

The injury came right around New Year’s Eve – a time for reflection, and anticipation, and making bullshit promises to ourselves. I’ve never been one for big hairy audacious resolutions.

I prefer to set intentions for incremental progress.

My injury forced me to do just that. I needed to fill three days of play with activities that didn’t require good weather, interesting landscapes, and a healthy body – none of which are guaranteed to us. Here’s what I came up with:

1. Work that core, ladies!

My calves are always lookin’ good thanks to Camelback, but my body is a little too soft for shirtless hiking selfies. Now, I’m working out nearly daily with weights or in yoga. Even if it’s just a half-hour, I stay active to stay happy and to defend against early onset dadbod.

2. Books, Jerry. Books.

I used to run at Tempe Town Lake or work at Cartel just to get out of the house. With a bad ankle and a light workload, I’ve discovered books as an excuse to be among humans. It turns out you can read in coffee shops and parks!

I’ve still got silly Game of Thrones for bedtime and a stack of spiritual books for the morning. Now, I’ve committed to a meatier read for times I need to get my body into public or into my hammock.

3. Do this more.

I was once asked in a job interview how many words I’d written. My answer: Most of them? In 15 years as a professional, I’ve never written so little for my job. I’m picking up the slack with more journaling, more blogging here, and more professional posting to The DRIVE and to Medium.

Side note: The blogging isn’t always easy. I’ve been working on this post for three months and I’m still not happy with it. Thanks for sticking with it!

Waste Not, Want Not.

These are not resolutions. They’re not measurable goals. I’m not setting out to lose 10 pounds, read a book a month, or sign a publishing deal. (Unless you know a publisher…?)

They’re just intentions.

I salvaged a wasted Winter by laying the groundwork for good things to happen. I dusted off my free weights and found a yoga studio. I picked up a few meatier reads at Bookmans – starting with 1984 in honor of you know who.

When I sprained my ankle, I didn’t know what to do to stay sane. Now, I know when, where, and how to do the good stuff when the need for good stuff arises.

Winter ended last week with PHX Startup Week and the Oscar ceremony.

Sitting on my patio, I think how excited I am for Spring.

The garden is producing. The sunsets are rockin’. My calendar is filled with staycations downtown plus weekend trips to hike Chiricahua National Monument, kayak the Colorado River, and backpack across Catalina Island.

That last one should be especially epic. I just hope my ankle is ready to haul around a forty-pound pack for four days.

If not, thanks to an un-wasted Winter, I’ve got fallback options now.

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On his only hike of the season, the male of the species spots two females approaching on the horizon, sucks in his gut, and prepares his opening line. Thus, the mating ritual of Hominidae Meanderus begins.

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Sitting in the fear in the summer heat

June 21, 2015 by 2 Comments

I was up until 2 a.m. this morning prepping for a third meander that seemed unlikely just six hours earlier. Forget the flight to Seattle I had booked for next week. I threw together last summer’s meander in days. I could prep for this one in hours and be on the California coast by sundown.

Why? Because I got dumped last night.

I suppose the breakup wasn’t entirely unexpected. It’s been a trying few weeks. I’ve caught myself breathing deeply to calm my nerves throughout recent workdays and I was pretty sure it wasn’t due to work stress.

I responded by returning to my yoga mat, doubling down on my journaling, and even resuming my spiritual reading. (I tore through Man’s Search for Meaning by Viktor Frankl in two sittings!)

In the end, I was proud of how I showed up in the relationship.

On the road again

phoenix south mountain sunset

Phoenix summers aren’t so bad once the sun goes down.

Now, my car is sitting in the driveway halfway packed. My camping gear is organized and ready to roll. But, at around 2 a.m., with the adrenaline of an unexpected opportunity to meander exhausted, I ran out of steam.

I tried to psych myself up this morning. After all, I could be on the coast by nightfall and (after a few days of work) among the Redwoods by end of week.

I resumed packing. I laid clothes out on the bed. I emptied my kitchen cabinets.

My second wind lasted about 10 minutes. My heart just wasn’t in it. I didn’t want to spend the next two days driving through the California desert. I didn’t want to spend the next two weeks alone on the road. (Although there’s no better place to face the fear of being alone than on a long solo trip.)

I chose instead to indulge the conclusions that I reached at the end of my spring break solo trip to Arches.

I wanted to tie up loose ends at work, including a fun temp gig with a hospitality tech startup. I wanted to see through some awesome planned social events like my going away party – which just wouldn’t be the same without the guy who’s going away.

And I wanted to process this loss properly rather than running into a Redwood forest and away from the fear of being alone.

A Sign from Above

I heard someone say once that if God wanted to send him a message he hoped it was delivered with a two-by-four. As if my lack of energy for a third meander wasn’t a clear enough sign, my car failed to start this morning when I attempted to drive to Cartel to write this blog post.

I biked instead. It was hot.

Some people think I hate Phoenix summers. I’ll admit that they’re not ideal. However, I do love weekend mornings in air-conditioned yoga studios and coffee shops, amazing sunsets on bike rides around Tempe Town Lake, and the smell of the desert during monsoon season.

I haven’t been in Arizona during a monsoon since 2012. It’ll be nice to finally experience that magical time of year again.

Of course, monsoon season won’t be in full swing until August. Fortunately, I can wait for its arrival in Seattle. I’ll just get there like most people would this year – by airplane.

seattle skyline from kerry park

A decent place to wait for monsoon season …

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NM. LOL. I’m not meandering this summer.

April 10, 2014 by 1 Comment

I walk outside. It’s hot. Damn hot. I remember the one (count ‘em, one!) triple-digit day of last summer’s Meander in Nevada City.

I wonder if I’ve made a mistake.

Last Thursday, I received the answer to the lingering question that forced me to kill time hiking at South Mountain. I learned that I didn’t get the temporary digital marketing gig that I thought was the only thing that could keep me in Arizona through the summer.

For a few days after the news, I proceeded as though Meander 2.0 was a go. I invited a friend to rent my house. I contacted road trip buddies. I researched campgrounds.

And then I changed my mind.

NM. LOL. Contrary to photos of my bearded face posted to Facebook, there will be no Meander this summer. Sorry for being a tease, y’all. I just don’t feel like it.

No Meander? WTF? Why not?

The Meander was founded on three principles: No girl. No gig. Just the road. That’s fine for one summer. Great, actually. But not two in a row.

The truth is, I want a girl. No, wait, I want the girl. Alas, the road offers up more flannelled forest cougars with one front tooth than, ya know, potential soul mates.

I like my gig. I’m a digital marketing consultant with some amazing clients. I’m socializing a luxury tile manufacturer, email marketing a therapeutic eyewear seller, and just plain gettin’ things done for one amazing entrepreneur who lets me be me (and meander whenever I like).

And, finally, there’s the road.

I’m not afraid to admit that it’s hard out there. And I’m a bit of a chicken about plunging back into the isolation of traveling the way I traveled last summer. For every shirtless hiking selfie I posted to Facebook, there was a tough night in my tent wishing I was home with friends and family.

Again, sorry for being a tease. This summer, I’m chillin’ … figuratively. Not literally.

OK. What you doin’ instead?

Instead, this summer I’ll keep it local. Kinda. My summer travels will commence with a Las Vegas-Havasu Falls trip in late May. I’ll commit some sins in Sin City, then pay for them by carrying a 30-pound pack 10 miles into and out of a canyon. The summer will end with Camp Tontozona and a trip to Arches and Canyonlands in August.

In between, I’ll enjoy our scintillating summer sunsets at Tempe Town Lake. I’ll work on my handstand. I’ll watch Game of Thrones (spoiler free!). I’ll camp and cabin up north, visit the beach in SoCal, and maybe even tuck in a week or two in Seattle.

The quiet of summertime in Tempe has fostered some of the most spiritual times of my life. This summer, I’ll embrace it.

Of course, there’ll be times when I’ll second-guess this decision. I’ll get cabin fever during long weekends at home. I’ll burn my bare feet getting the mail. I’ll grumble as I dash through the oppressive heat from my AC’d house to my AC’d car.

I’ll be left to ponder …

What’s the temperature in Washington right now?

And who do I know with a pool?

summer in az

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