5am Friday morning, and I decide it's about time that I start running/walking/hiking. My blistered feet from a failed attempt to hike Deer Mountain the night before sllide relatively easily into my running shoes as if say, "Ah, I remember you." Dressed and ready to go, I am faced with the harsh reality that I am not in Fort Myers anymore; my starting elevation is 8,010 feet, the terrain is rocky and loose in some areas if not muddy, and there are a lot of hills (go figure). I make a deal with my body that if it allows me to run the flatter spans that I will power walk the reaminder and it seems content.
As I run around the open field in front of the administration building (the area you can see from the Y's web cam on their website) I am greeted by the massive yet docile elk feasting upon the new growth of spring. I have only seen males, with their fuzzy and impressive racks of antlers (they will rub the fuzz off on the trees in the months to come) as the females are off in secluded areas giving birth to their young. There are over 3,000 elk in the area which means they are a constant presence everywhere you turn.
I veer off the path headed toward the secret exit from the Y and into the park and my senses begin to hit overload. As a teacher, we learn that there are many different types of learning styles reliant upon the senses; I am definitely an olafactory learner, or one whose memories are tied to smells as well as the active participation of all the other senses. The scent of pines and the Rocky Mountain wilderness pervades the air and enters my lungs, cool and crisp. Everything around me smells and feels refreshed and new, as if it has awaited greeting its inhabitants all winter and now is its chance. The river is rushing through the woods and down the mountain side; freshly melted snow which leaves the air with a fresh sting to it.
The view from my room as I walk to meals...
Ah Memories... fickle little devils... Why is it we can only remember the good things when we may want to remember the bad and then the good when we can only remember the bad? With the scent of RMNP in the air, memories of hikes with the family encompmass my thoughts, and not of the little fights, or the strenuous nature of the hike that led to everyone complaining as my dad gets frustrated with the lack of enthusiasm we have to match his own love, adoration, and devotion to this place. Instead I recall the comraderie and the simple comfort of family life. The rushing water is a reminder of the fishing excursions last year. My silly memory holds such fondness to this experience that it could fool my body into attempting it again despite the freezing cold water that I was up to my waist in at some points, the numbness of my feet and hands that did not leave for days, and being cold wet and seemingly miserable. Instead I recall laughter, comfort, and excitement of sharing my Colorado experience with someone that had never been here before and in turn sharing their favorite recreation in my favorite environment. Maybe this year will hold new memories as Jacquee is contemplating joining me out here for my comp nights and bringing her new boyfriend for me to meet!
Memories... tricky little things. Maybe they are God's way to guide our free will that he probably curses giving us every once in awhile.