The main reason I keep these items rattling around, however, runs deeper than the Yellowstone Super Volcano. Out West, I was the most adventurous version of myself. There was an escapade around every corner, and people everywhere that wanted to join in. If you got called to do something and you didn’t have to work – sometimes even if you did – you had to participate. There was no excuse, literally. Sick, tired, or both (hungover), feeling lazy, can’t find the equipment, not dressed for it, bad weather, “but we could get caught,” didn’t fly and you knew it.
It was fast-paced, exciting…and tiring, like one long non-stop adult recess with way more peer pressure. Unsustainable for the mere mortal, although there are those succeed in making it last – can you live the dream for a lifetime? I’ll ask Stephen Hawking.
The irony is, as active as the town was and continues to be, it also made me lazy in a way.
“What? We have to drive 20 minutes for the best singletrack in the area? Not worth it, dude.”
Spoiled, bordering on pretentious is probably a better description, although I try not to let it show…too much. Sure, to get the goods I have to work a little harder, but that’s all part of the fun, right?
Moving back to the East was the right decision. I have a wife, house and a good job (look at me!); all the respectable things that were seemingly out of reach in my former life. Gone are the days of filing nine W-2s a year and moving every six months, which is nice, but I do find myself loosing the edge when it comes to limit pushing. A little pudgier, a little slower, a LOT more conservative on the trail; these things are to be expected in the natural progression of life, but it does not mean we can’t hold onto that version of ourselves we hold in our hearts as the height of our physical and psychological achievement. We can still keep the pilot light in our guts lit for those moments when our stoke is ignited like it once was.
So keep that split board you haven’t used in five years, keep that three-season tent and that 8-weight fly rod. Hold onto that version of yourself from a previous life – or at least lifestyle – you have not visited in quite a while.
Hold onto the hope and I’ll hold onto this jacket. Just don’t tell Jackson Hole Mountain Resort.
